@marshalatdusk
Continued from -> here!
It's getting a little too cold to be wandering around barefoot at night, but Till is used to going without creature comforts like shoes, properly fitting clothes, or even blankets or a bed. If anything, the cold is a welcome distraction to the usual monotony of Till's sleepless nights.
His best nights are marked by aching scars and migraines. His worst: nightmares. This wasn't even the first person he's met wandering in the dark, nor the strangest.
"People can do what they want here." It sounds at first more like a fact than an invitation, but it's said in a lighthearted way. It's something Till is still getting used to. He sits in the grass by the side of the road, opening the sketchbook he had tucked under his arm, and begins outlining the shadowy trees by the dim light of the street lamp.
"Eh. I've seen way worse." He says, bluntly but truthfully. "If anything, the glowing is… kinda pretty, actually." The flowers in the Garden were fake, but he'd always felt sympathy for them anyway. Till often thought that if he were a flower, he'd have wilted long ago, or been crushed carelessly underfoot.
"You shouldn't apologize for things you can't help like that. Besides…" Till stops drawing to look at the other apraisingly for a moment, "It was around this time last year when the trees started to lose their leaves and go to sleep… Must be tough…"
