02-20-2021, 10:15 AM

Maybe it’s because he has been alive for so long – the reason he will try anything once, just to see, or climb that proverbial mountain (or literal mountain) just to look at the world from it’s top. When time is nothing there is no harm is wasting it once and again.
Sometimes silences are not awkward, like now. Sometimes they come on naturally and the conversation seems beyond lips and ears and tone of voice. He doesn’t mind the way the air feels around her, the way she smells – which is such a foreign smell compared to that of flesh and fur, or hair and feathers, or scales even. He’s seen many odd things, peculiar bodies, odd markings and eyes, textures that range leathery skin to glass. But never metal, not until now; the living monument of herself.
He’s about to say something like “it’s always different when you return”, but that is when the world begins to warp and darken around them. He doesn’t get to say much of anything after that, not until he hears her in the darkness. It’s something he did not expect, even if delivered with the same hardened level tone she’s possessed the whole time. Her voice is distant even though it’s pouring from her very own lips. “I won’t.” comes forward in the softest tone that’s ever left his mouth. He reaches out like she’s someone familiar, finding the cold feel of her smooth surface. He’s not sure what part his lip grazes, a hip, ribcage, shoulder – he can’t tell. Or maybe it is only hallucination? A symptom of his mind and body failing him – could it be death, or a dream? Or both? “Hey,” he whispers, having calmed his nerves a bit now. If she speaks again then maybe it is all real…
CHEMDOG
to the window, to the wall
to the window, to the wall
@[bible]
sorry for the wait
i dig these two weirdos together
