𝓊ntil the leeches sucked the moon dry and its golden soul dripped down upon the empty fields [ … ] the night stood there, vulnerably naked and starless.
đť“ąlayed by . . . sam winchester, narrator, hannibal (2007), willoughby tucker, applejack, jedediah, ennis delmar, bambi
shifter, word thief, adult, wannabe cowboy, forager, autumn lover, swamp freak, disabled, neurodivergent, caffeine addict
dirty knees. dried blood on his knuckles, the smell of moss in his hair. he spent most of his childhood in the forest behind the small house he lived in, eating berries and catching frogs. the forest was his mother. it was scarred, carrying the past in a weirdly light way; bombs had left holes in her flesh, and yet she carried on, strong and gentle, brutal and fair. he found the shed on a summer evening, the air already thick with ancient promises. it was a ruin, full of dead leaves and rotten wood; it smelled of mold and wet bones, but its shadows were cooler than the ones the trees gave.
at thirteen he hid behind the church to smoke. from the small stump he sat on he could see the neighbours ponies, two beautiful animals grazing in the golden afternoon sun. the days were heavy with secrets, just like the sundays his parents would go pray and leave him alone with their alcohol.
there was a never ending hunger for more. soon, the forest didn’t satisfy him anymore. the church got boring and even the stories the wind had to tell grew old.
so he began to travel.
