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against ivans back . around his neck sat the same collar that ivan would often unclasp in the dark of those awful nights . he hums softly ˎ ichor stains long gone .
“ you're afraid . ”
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and just like that ˎ hallucination of the day till died disappears ˎ only to reappear in a different form . adorned in the same ragged white outfit they wore in the garden ˎ the ghost of what used to be rests his head
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in reality, ivan's simply sitting on his bed, staring into nothing. no blood is on his skin. no pretty man trying to choke air from him. . . . he's all alone with his thoughts.
a nod, agreeing with tills words ➷
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lips to opposites ear and then down to his neck ˎ leaving a trail of blood after each gesture.
“ you're no good to them alive. you're no good to anyone. ”
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crimson ichor stains lips as deceased leans in closer. chilled fingertips dig into the surface of ivans neck as the air only grew darker the more parasite slipped into his grief. hallucination of former private paradise presses
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" . . . . . "
it's true, every word this till says comes from deep within himself. every bad thought. every bad feeling. they all wound up in this beautiful creature.
he lets that hand choke him.
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“ leave them. before you cause them to burn just as you did me. ”
hallucination of what once was squeezes the throat of surviving contestant — though not enough to be fatal as the harsh touch doesn't exist outside of ivans mind.
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attempt to touch is futile as ivans hands seem to go through him. a grin curves into visage of the deceased. ghostly fingers travel along opposite body before circling around throat.
“ you are serving the rebellion no purpose. ”
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