death is a familiar friend of mine. i have learned to love it's grip on my throat as my vision blurs ; only to wake once again, waiting for it's next embrace.
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massive door of dark wood──┈carved, with metal fittings that glint dimly in the twilight.
‘ that book is about constellations. i wonder why mother keeps that little thing in her house at all. ’
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she looks back at him──┈and in her eyes, in those amber depths, not only the light from the lonely candles on the walls is reflected, but something more. some childish pride.
🗝⠀⠀ֵ⠀ ⠀𝄒
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speaking up once more , voice echoing throughout the large hallway .
“ it’s been quite a while since I’ve been near the library .
but it always fascinated me .”
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alive. somewhere in the distance, water drips.
‘ i found a book last week. it was hidden behind others──┈so deep that i almost didn't notice it. ’
she turns the corner, and before them appears a
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death is a familiar friend of mine. i have learned to love it's grip on my throat as my vision blurs ; only to wake once again, waiting for it's next embrace.
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cassandra runs her fingertips along orin's cheek, laughing──┈quietly, breathily, as if something inside her has irreparably broken, but has only become sweeter because of it.
🗝⠀⠀ֵ⠀ ⠀𝄒
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ᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠ
right now. 𝐲𝐞𝐬. you are so close
and yet so far. i want more. just
a taste. a lick. anything. i want
a piece of your flesh. so lonely.
you could be a part of me. ❞
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cassandra nods──┈quickly, almost nervously, but there is something alive, something real, in that movement. her smile widens, and something both tender and mad slips into it.
‘ i remember. he—he. ’
🗝⠀⠀ֵ⠀ ⠀𝄒
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he teased , a laugh pushed past his lips , glancing down to look at her nail as she ran it along the back of his hand , though it seemed as if he were immune to the ticklish motion .
“ yours . now and forever . you should know this by now .”
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