@mortvivat His bones frigid, his presence sways with the wind. It was to his luck that you have no way of seeing him as he is.
He pulls back, slipping away from your hold, fondness etched in his words. "Just a kindness someone lent to me."
@mortvivat He dreams of you, a good friend whose affection no one could take away, and all of this might as well be a dream. "I am not." He said, woeful, dreary. "Not truly."
@mortvivat Every touch singes him like fire on paper, every contact make him more real than before. "I am..," his words hang on the clusters of doubt, "same as ever."
@mortvivat His laughter overlaps, echoing back and forth. If there is something to be felt here, surely it would be so very tender and gentle. "Have you been well?"
@mortvivat Skin met skin, gazes lost, and the rest of him is a blur. "Rakta." The call echoes like it was distant, like a voice reverberated in a hollow vassal, and his arms came around you, reunion long-due.
@mortvivat The figure goes along with your touch, inching closer until it was their chin resting on your shoulder. Silent as still water, but the nostalgia was warm on the skin.
His fingers draw thread of empty lines in thin paper, written braille spoke — how he miss the commanders, his friends.
Names, and requests of weaponries. Pad of fingers stop on one name. Edmud breathes. "Samael."
His heart withers. Wailed.