HE GRINNED IN THE DARK

Me?

          ❝ nothing we can offer you as an agency will satisfy you, hm? ❞

          A CROW CANNOT WASH ITSELF WHITE AS MUCH AS IT TRIES. indeed, he could drown himself in the river a thousand times and never erase the worst of his crimes. dazai osamu is infected with the ruthless nature of the underworld, and like the most treacherous virus, it will rise to the surface of his skin after everyone is convinced he is cured. something closer to cruelty now festers in his tone, coils around his throat like a spool of barbed wire, and his pacing before the profaned priest slackens to a halt as he pronounces his final verdict.

          ❝ then perhaps i neglected to mention that we have a doctor more than capable of reversing the onset of death for your dear margaret mitchell. indefinitely comatose, is she not? what a tragic loss that would be. ❞ ⋮ @scarletters​.

          AN IMMEDIATE AWFULNESS takes its throne upon his face, dripping with a progenitor of anger that quickly withers into defeat and delicate despair. the priest’s previous resolve dissipates like dust, weathered to ash in an instant by the breath of dazai’s cruelty and the sound of her name on his teeth. the glimpse of her resurrection overwhelms nathaniel hawthorne with such a powerful ache that, if delivered to to the kingdom of god, would grasp all the angels in heaven with misery and sorrow. 

          THIS ACHE makes only a brief passing onto the clergyman’s face, shivering into the creases between his eyebrows, and he listens to his mind’s echo of dazai’s sharp-edged promise. he relents his tenseness and releases his conviction, closing his eyes for an introspective moment.