KILLER'S DELUSION

⸝⸝ ㆍ “ Looking at the man you seek,

His future seemed so bleak;

A man of mystery, or so they say,

Living in a delusion, rotting away. ” ˖⁠ ♡

𐔌 he/they/it ﹒ neither monster nor human ౨ৎ

𓏵 ﹒ roleplay/ask blog !! ◟ 𖦹

ᛝ carrd coming soon?¿ ﹒ ❏

Killer paused, staring down at the paper and pencil in hand as he thought about the question.

"Hm,” he lifted his head up, gaze unfocused as he was lost in his thoughts, for a little while. Silence. The cold breeze brushed against his bones in spite of the window being closed.

SCENE, START !!

. . . Killer glided his pencil over the paper, leaving constant marks that would one day become a comprehensible picture... Or not. It's always up to fate, it seems. Even he himself cannot tell if his drawings— sketches(?), seem to work out or not.

It was a first for Killer, to try drawing. Or at least, he thinks it is. He couldn't exactly tell himself. Something about this activity brings a strange sense of deja vu, and he couldn't understand why. But at the same time, it brought a small sense of comfort and control. He could control the way the pencil moved, what lines it formed and how he made his pictures. He could express anything, anything on these papers knowing that he could easily hide them, destroy them and no one would ever know what he made.

No one would know, except for himself. And frankly, Killer seemed perfectly content with that. (As long as no one conveniently walked in, of course.)

Other than the faint moonlight that flooded in through the curtained window, his soul was the only other light source he had. He didn't mind drawing in such a dark place (in which he calls his room), as long as he could still see. Complete darkness is disorienting, but so is light. To him, this was just right. Nothing for him to fear, nothing to endanger him. At least, that's the illusion it gives. It's much preferred compared to having to watch your every step, your every movement, every word that comes out of his mouth just to survive.