Two Eyes Cenote i'm a waking hell and the gods grow tired

meseba watches her tears with a knife to his heart, knowing he is the cause of them; his expression threatening to shutter. to turn once more to stoic basalt, a forge sculpted achilles. a cursed midas whose touch turned everything to precious but cold metal. but he has already been vulnerable with her, he trusts her too much.

everyone else he could shut out. but not her! never eset.

i do not live in regrets. at least, not anymore. not since the night he set off from greyjaw hollow and never looked back.