Otatso Wetlands Trace the moment, fall forever

Investment was a tricky thing. Tricky, in that Wildflower never could seem to see through it. Investment was a fly trap and he, Wildflower, was the bug.

Sabandija.

(He'd never heard that word before. It lived in him anyway in a hundred other syllables.)

So. He'd tracked the man down. Watched him, for a time. Left him and tracked him down again, and that was what passed for companionship for him, most days. That didn't mean he didn't burn for more. So when desperation overcame his fear, he made himself available. Just happened to stumble across his path. His smile was weak, exhausted. Teasing all the same.

"Cher," he said in greeting, hooded eyes assessing his welcome. He did not yet come closer.