𝐰͟𝐢͟𝐧͟𝐭͟𝐞͟𝐫 settles amongst bones. harsh in its caress, ever demanding of miserable company —— it is a shame this 𝖻𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝖽 wasn't too keen on heeding the call. artos is watchful of white surroundings &&. the chatter of passing folk, sharpening a knife in silence.

the moral of the story is， i will gut you if i need to. i will carve my way out with only my teeth.

there is 𝘯𝘰 manner of kindness given to the wretched. a fruitful morrow to those aligned with the 𝐫͟𝐢͟𝐠͟𝐡͟𝐭͟𝐟͟𝐮͟𝐥 𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒆𝒏.