Depressing for 𝘺𝘰𝘶.
Half my clientele followed me here. More notoriety. More business. More money in my pocket. The best part? I accomplish all of it without ever getting my hands dirty.
Though I suppose seeing opportunity where others see decay requires a certain
There’s something to be said for how your inner machinations appear more ‘cacophonous’ – discordant, disjointed, and deafening.
And I may conduct a symphony, sure, but the melody can unravel…the descant suddenly too loud, the harmonies tense and combative.
A chaos of its own.
Close, as usual, but not quite there.
I do not solely exist as one melody, one line, one sharp string holding vibrato.
How I wish that were true.
Surely, it would be far less demanding. Perhaps, enjoyable, even.
We are all too alike, tortured and encouraged by the orchestra.–
Mine? Mine is the orchestra. Strings, horns, drums, all crashing at once—every note demanding to be heard, every possibility burning itself into existence. There is no silence. There is no pause.
So, hello!
Not dead.
Forward your inquiries to @warhaunts — unless the case is PARTICULARLY captivating, then you have a maximum of 280 characters to convince me personally.
-SH
A gift and a curse. One the detective knows all too well.
Can you imagine how quiet it must be? …How empty and weightless? We pity the lacking, and yet remain ( on occasion ) microscopically jealous of their ignorance. So boring; so soothing.
His mind is a hurricane—spinning, gnawing, never still. Every thought clawing at the next, no silence, no peace. Genius is a prison when you can’t turn it off. The world sleeps, but his brain burns, restless and ruthless.
I expended all of my energy on 𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑡𝑎𝑠𝑘𝑠 in a feeble attempt to rid myself of the shackles of restlessness… I don’t suppose a robe would suffice?
I’ve been 𝑜𝑢𝑡 in less.
No, 𝑦𝑒𝑎ℎ, I knew that one was you. … Bit glad that you didn’t touch the bedroom, though.
Go get properly dressed, yeah? We’ll decide where to go after you do.