What do you do for fun when you got nothing better to do? Do you hang out with Wilford?
His indifferent aesthetic had been built like a wall of titanium, with no cracks or holes for anyone to even peak into the depths of his thoughts. His eyes were bricks, shunning red to the viewer in cold endless color, ensuring that no change could be seen from within him. In the endless black he writhed and he howled within his thoughts. In the catacombs of his domain, he raged and he wrecked, smashing himself to brittle cinders as he teared through the abyss he had created, beneath it, across and through like a raven trapped in an attic. But no one would know of it, no one would receive a glimpse of that constant ache. For he had built a fortress of a face, and stood proud while falling apart.
“The nature of fun is insignificant when it comes to the importance of work.”
His voice was sharp, and growled with nastiness in his tone. But despite the spitting fire in his words, his eyes were glassy with concern, a paternal worry evident in the way he fixated his stare into the eternal void.
“I have not heard from the likes of Wilford in many months. Our whereabouts are unknown to each other, and I hardly have the patience to endure his pink, vibrant, explosive personality for too long. I have no true knowledge of where he is or how he is. And..” He grit his teeth together, rebuilding his titanium and dulling the coloration of his eyes.
“And I needn’t care.”
