————> The Chaiden reboot on Christian is where I will be writing until my muse returns for this version of Christian. Give it a follow

"Still alive, kids. Don't throw a party."

Throws a rock. x.com/sardonicdecay/…

"Thanks" Throws more rocks. x.com/sardonicdecay/…

@SardonicDecay "They hurt"

Account Closed Indefinitely.

"It's good to see this place hasn't changed much" Christ appears whilst taking a large bite out of an apple.

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He heard the sound of rain against the roof, it was a sound he never thought he’d imagine again much less actually hear with working ears. To him, this was a story he had told over and over again but the relief always remained the same. His fingers started to move, the joints —

seeming to scream in protest. It was always the damn rain, it always made a special part in this story, as if the rain belonged in every single blink of his eye. Christian lifted his body out of the long grass, briefly he wondered how he was still a relatively put together —

— piece of meat, aside from the dirt underneath his nails and his skin covered in goosebumps he decided that he looked normal. He walked in the dark, rather slowly considering the state of his legs. The hill he stumbled down was steep, lit only by flickering street lights. —

— His dark hair fell wet against his face and he crumbled his nose in response to the awkwardly cold feeling. He approached the quiet house, and maybe it was the dust on the windows but the breath that came out of his lungs was shaky with the memory. —

— Christian turned the knob with a quivering hand, he briefly thought about where this one action would take him. But that was a story for another time.

Christian found himself running, his legs completely in charge without his brain actively making any of the decisions. He ran until his lungs felt aflame, but he soon made it to the abandoned penthouse. (Aiden Rookwood.) —

— The lift didn’t move, regardless of how many times he slammed his fist on the buttons. “Fuck” he muttered and in frustration kicked the metal door. The stairs were agony, in the rush to get there Christian climbed every single one. (Aiden Rookwood.) —

— The penthouse had various half filled paint buckets that were intended to cover the scorch marks left on the walls. And then he saw him by the wall with the deep claw shaped indent that Christian never had the heart to cover “Aiden..” Christian spoke — (Aiden Rookwood.)

— his name like it was a word he had only just learnt. Perhaps he expected this to be like a movie where the entire world would melt away and all he would feel was Aiden, it wasn’t. All Christian felt was confusion. “Are you real?” (Aiden Rookwood.)

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“Stop telling people I’m rising, I wanted 10 more minutes.” x.com/temptinginfern…

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