@nerfruin.
you had hope when markus was alive. you had hope in survival & leadership. now, the weight has fallen upon your shoulders haply, & any connotation to him has swell a stygian incense throughout your body. perched on the edge of a wooden seat, your tongue grazes your bottom lip, head remaining dipped downwards. “ why are you helping her? ” your question is aimed at the woman standing at the door frame, her patience beginning to wear thin. she has to leave soon, you know this — you can hear her digits tapping restlessly against the metal, awaiting your answer regarding passports. it’s an eldritch yet genuine question you asked. how could she help a human who grow up no differently than everyone else? you, so full of choler & ire towards anyone who is different; it’s questionable how different androids & humans are after all. looking up from the cement flooring, you can feel the vines blooming & growing upwards against your throat, orbs shining from the warm penumbra of the growing fire in front of you. “ how do you do it without ... you know. ”
