Ouroboros Spine sisuuk ⊹

forgotten? arcturus wondered of what witchcraft kukutux spoke, where one could lay their pains down from their side and never think of them again. his own skin was thorn after thorn, every little scrape a hardened edge in which would forever remember its insult.

she spoke of howling -- arcturus stayed the impulse to say it would do no good. life had turned him bitter, he knew it. a singular nod was all he gave: he would join his voice with her own for a short time, weaving a tapestry of song that he hoped would lead any stragglers down from the ruins and prove him wrong.