05-17-2019, 03:13 AM
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: calibri; font-size: 9.2pt; line-height: 1.4;"]It would take too much time for Tydeus to explain the improbability of Bones growing bored of him, and he's certain that Cat wouldn't be interested in hearing it anyway. It's easy to see the worst in the man when he doesn't care to change the picture  it's the sort of honesty that Tyd has grown to love, however strange the word feels on his tongue; however hesitant he is to let it stay there. Or leave there. Now is hardly the time for that anyway, his back to a wall and his fingers wrapped around something sharp. (Though it's only in moments like this when it comes so close to slipping off of his lips anyway.) He finds himself staring up at Cat and pondering how different things could have been, watching icy eyes and then smiling. It's not genuine, too careful and too sharp.
Like the shining snap of the wire as he straightens it out with his hands on the bars, slim fingers baring their scarred knuckles and creases. He'd grown used to holding on so tightly that he bled, because it meant that someone else was suffocating from his grip  his temporary pain managed greater things. He has to believe that, right? That it would lead to something good. Tyd stands gracefully even with his hands occupied, with a catlike stretch onto his toes and then back down. The garrote stays in his hands, a deadly sort of threat, though playful still: if Cat thought this was the work of an electrician, they were sorely mistaken. "Waiting for someone to talk to, really. Is that a problem?" Not that he'd care if it was. He was still here, after all.
Like the shining snap of the wire as he straightens it out with his hands on the bars, slim fingers baring their scarred knuckles and creases. He'd grown used to holding on so tightly that he bled, because it meant that someone else was suffocating from his grip  his temporary pain managed greater things. He has to believe that, right? That it would lead to something good. Tyd stands gracefully even with his hands occupied, with a catlike stretch onto his toes and then back down. The garrote stays in his hands, a deadly sort of threat, though playful still: if Cat thought this was the work of an electrician, they were sorely mistaken. "Waiting for someone to talk to, really. Is that a problem?" Not that he'd care if it was. He was still here, after all.
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ISN'T IT LOVELY, ALL ALONE —————–———————— INFORMATION
HEART MADE OF GLASS, MY MIND OF STONE
PINTEREST —— TEAR ME TO PIECES, SKIN TO BONE; WELCOME HOME