[ He’s still processing that sentence as he lets words fall out of his mouth. And he knows that they’re insufficient. That they’re nowhere near enough. But no words could be.
He wouldn’t want someone to be sorry for him. So he doesn’t say he’s sorry. Just insults whoever did it. Insults whoever did all the things he doesn’t plan to ask about. Hierophant finishes his perfect crane and it takes wing, because she can’t see the strings holding it up. It flies from the table, landing softly in her gloved hand. ]
I’m dead. Not trying to upstage you. Your thing is still way more fucked up.
no subject
[ He’s still processing that sentence as he lets words fall out of his mouth. And he knows that they’re insufficient. That they’re nowhere near enough. But no words could be.
He wouldn’t want someone to be sorry for him. So he doesn’t say he’s sorry. Just insults whoever did it. Insults whoever did all the things he doesn’t plan to ask about. Hierophant finishes his perfect crane and it takes wing, because she can’t see the strings holding it up. It flies from the table, landing softly in her gloved hand. ]
I’m dead. Not trying to upstage you. Your thing is still way more fucked up.