Silver Moraine [m] i'll cut the soft pockets, let bleed

the stranger is distinctly not thrilled, and zephyr can't help but think this is only to be expected. nothing in his life seems to have a happy ending, and why should this be any different? at the very least, the ending statement is some small reassurance; he will not be alone in the ordeal, should it come to pass. it feels like a meager consolation prize. but he's made his own bed, and now it is time to lie in it. he clings to his typical mask of stoicism as he responds, suddenly eager to be done with the interaction. you're right, he starts ambiguously, continuing without clarifying. tell me your name, then, and where i can find you if — if i need to. a slight stumble over words, as he struggles to avoid the tidal wave of dread suddenly looming over him. it'd been easier when he'd been able to regard the situation with a bit of humor; easier to ignore what feels like impending doom.

mother! woman! his mind shrieks at him from some dark ugly corner, and he knows that soon the world around him will follow suit...

as if they don't already.