Overture Downs make your peace

He’s keen to stay where he is, even blinks champagne eyes close. He finds he doesn’t care if Ghost goes for his throat in the moment of vulnerability. It’d be a better way out like this than what he’s known death to be like. This would be by his own terms.

With the soft thump, thumps of two hearts, of the each rise and fall and stutter of Ghost’s lungs, with the smell of blood, bile and frost. Sounds quite nice. He can’t argue with that.

He feels the words curl up in Ghost’s chest. A dark eyebrow lifts, and slowly a champagne eye blinks open. “I like you.”

Why’s everyone here got the strangest taste?

But the Wayfarer finds that he doesn’t quite mind it; not in the way he minded the blurt of friendship. He feels like Ghost knows him, and their connection? Hell, it seems like it wasn’t a fantasy that the Wayfarer’s mind conjured up after all.

Yeah? He huffs, burying that much closer into silver fur. I like you too.