[It smells of many things. Silk and darkness. More, if they desired to look. They could make anything precious with words and that was what the people needed sometimes.]
I--
[The thing within them strains harder against the fabric. Something tries pushing off their mask and fails. Strange, for a thing that looks so delicate and like a stiff breeze could knock it off...
The wind whispers fierce, "Yes. One cut. Just one. My desire. One cut...just one..."]
no subject
I--
[The thing within them strains harder against the fabric. Something tries pushing off their mask and fails. Strange, for a thing that looks so delicate and like a stiff breeze could knock it off...
The wind whispers fierce, "Yes. One cut. Just one. My desire. One cut...just one..."]