You are a translator, says the fisherman’s son.
Yes, says the sailor.
And the sound is the voice of the enemy.
Yes, yes it is."
❝ A matter of quantity, then, rather than quality? ❞
A heavy-lidded maroon gaze follows the planate movements of Will’s fingers and the hominine rise and fall of the swell of thyroid cartilage positioned above his throat.
—He’s a creature of movement, still only when wandering the meandering labyrinth of his magnificent mind.
Hannibal, in stark contrast, can be counted amongst the living only by virtue of the slight rise and fall of his chest and the indecipherable flickers of his eyes.
If they’re windows to the soul, his curtains are closed. Perhaps someone perceptive would see the doctor and his regal bearing, uncannily serene, and find themselves reminded vaguely of a lion crouched motionless in the rustling grass of a savannah, its tawny gaze fixed on a lithe gazelle.
An apex predator, engrossed.
❝ —A glass of water, spilling over? ❞
"You think my mind can only hold a glassful?"
The tone used is bare. Bone dry. Picked all the meat off it. No plump words to sink your teeth in to. It’s not bait—but it is a challenge. Break and twist. Get to the marrow. Try harder.
solidarius started following you.
!!! GaiGE. Your Cas! Is back! Aaa!
(I only miss 92% of the shots I don’t take. No big deal.)
I… am my own biggest fan.
This would be sad if it wasn’t also oddly self respecting?
Little pig, little pig, don’t build a house of sticks
Little pig, little pig, don’t build a house of bricks
Little pig, little pig, don’t build a house of stones
Little pig, little pig, build a house of bones
The wolf will chew the marrow, and leave your flesh alone
❝ I’m delighted to make your acquaintance! ❞
"No, no." There’s a sick twist to the corners of his lips and an offensive laugh puffs out like cigarette smoke in the doctor’s face. "That was the definition. It’s the soft echo of your own question where an answer should be."
SCHEDULE: after coquilles