trigger warning: discussions of trauma and suicidal thoughts
you shouldn't have to pay for your love
with your bones and your flesh
with your bones and your flesh
Around him, the court is awash in a frenzy of festivity, drowning in visitors and merchants alike -- he slips through the crowds like a shadow, wrapped in the softest silks that hide the tender underside of his bare throat and the short-cropped hair on his neck. He is drawn taut like a bowstring, deep bruises beneath his eyes from the dreams that constantly haunt him, and if asked at that moment, he never could have answered what he was looking for.
And yet -- he finds the tent amongst the many others, slips inside and settles himself on the soft cushions, as bruised eyes look upon the shed-star with exhaustion. “What am I still doing here,” He asks, his breast aching with everything he has endured, his mind echoing why am I still alive when he finds he can’t finish the question aloud.
@Official Night Account
you were only a boy,
when you were thrown into a war.
when you were thrown into a war.
