ғᴏʀɢᴇᴛ-ᴍᴇ-ɴᴏᴛ

“…Most people might consider it to be that. Then again, last time you got distracted from whatever that is, you threw a tantrum and almost broke your phone, so I don’t think I actually mind too much.”

    “ You have no evidence of this tantrum! I don’t throw... tantrums. And if       I did throw a tantrum-- why are you talking to me, which might distract       me?

     “ ...Sorry to intrude. “

Soft voice and questionable intentions; it comes to the realm of it’s birth with something that can only be described in static and color. A walk into existence, the only thing that could catch ones eye was the aforementioned hues. Reds and oranges; perhaps a dash of blue-- but, the majority of that paint was to be expressed as warm. Warm as the sun on the beach; welcoming as the sands-- it doesn’t know what else to be.

It isn’t supposed to be here.

But it is. On the radar and in danger the moment whoever up there; out there can figure out what this glitch is. Why danger, why not flight-- the reasoning complex but to be elaborated on in just a breath. It wanted to see him. He isn’t here, it doesn’t know that they are what’s left. Too many artificial breaths to count, away from all this. Hiding was it’s forté by now.

` █ ▌█ ▌✿ –!! 

【 they tiptoe with white lightning in spry steps, deft detour handled with tremulous trepidation. misfortune mimics every footfall as wretched wood splits in a mottled maw only moments after crossing. guttural groan of ancient architecture echoes throughout the hollow house, chthonic cacophony sending shivers down their spine. autumnal air shrouds bronzed shoulders in the dingy dusk of abandoned abodes, silk sheets spread across skeletal forms and spectre silhouettes. gnawing upon the inside of their cheek the martyr tastes cherry champagne and caked blood mingling in their mouth; stigmata stitched with snapdragons bleeds from their wrists as amaranth hues ghost over the gamer’s visage, words but a whisper underneath phantom static.    】

–S-Stealth points? I-I…am afraid I do not follow. But, a-ah–thank you for your aid–otherwise one might have–perished r-rather quickly. Almost anticlimactically.

Carefully and diligently does it follow the others movements that so fancy the air and disregard the low moans of the beast that hungers for wine. Liquor of whining souls wrangling only to be mangled and still. Suffer says the world, howl the echoes of each of their footfalls so fair. It’s lips part and a drawl pause-- flicker of visage to the left; right-- blue, red. Two dimensional within the four dimensional box, heart the third and it aches for the droplets that warm withered eyes.