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( how did she get here , that's a good question . whistle slowly coming to an halt . head turining for black-crimson hues to peek from underneath ebony locks , right over his shoulder . a lost visitor ? )
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( how those crimson-black hues just linger intensively on the other .
a familiar smile that reveals a further glimpse of the snaggletooth — but completely devoid of the quiet, melancholic restraint the ivan in his universe used to possess. )
what's wrong , little
+
( He feels tense all of the sudden and rubs the back of his head as if someone or something touched him.
The sound of another breathing caught his attention — peeking over his shoulders. Brows furrowed.
Who is that . . ? Or no— he looks familiar. )