The Heartwood invasion of the bodysnatchers

are you sure about that? he inquires of her with a small quirk of his lips that is far from an actual smile. he wasn't so sure himself. he couldn't give himself the credit of being the same boy he'd always been. who he was, who he wanted to be, who he had to be to survive ...it was all confusing and when he tried to grasp onto something it slipped from betwixt his teeth like smoke, leaving him to think that he wasn't meant to have the answers yet. trouble-makers. he responds simply.

did that not fit him? had he not broken his family's hearts? was he not that rebel kid, donned in a leather jacket, drawing on that cigarette from the pack he'd stolen from the general store on the street corner? troubadour cut hair slicked back with pomade and tucked beneath a newsboy cap, the peak glinting with sharp razor blades; switch blade tucked in the waistband of his jeans. the kinda boy that mothers warned their daughters away from.

d'you like 'em? because atausiq cannot lie to her, no matter how he thinks he should, he offers her a noncommittal shrug of his shoulders. some of them are alright, but he couldn't be expected to like or get along with everyone. i like the leader well enough. and for now, that was the most important thing.