[The skin between his brows furrows deeper at Quetz's claim. The nurturing, caring side of her beams warm and tender that he can almost feel it seep through his sleeve and thaw at his arm, something he would appreciate if this was someone innocent who ended up in the midst of all of this.
Yet, this time—
He doesn't remember how sharp the instincts of his younger self were until he hears the surface of the water rustle, the circles of the unrested stirring from his other form rising the dampness in his boots.
Enough to sense what he's coming to a conclusion about, then.] He doesn't belong here.
no subject
Yet, this time—
He doesn't remember how sharp the instincts of his younger self were until he hears the surface of the water rustle, the circles of the unrested stirring from his other form rising the dampness in his boots.
Enough to sense what he's coming to a conclusion about, then.] He doesn't belong here.
[Even himself, even now, he believes this.]