#a.matt

To their credit, they knew no matter what, their outfit was going to cause a stir. Absinthe was well aware they'd played it safe enough with their presentation- masculine to a fault and leaning more heavily into the pronouns associated with it- it was odd, of course, the idea of being a father and a Father without being a man- but it had been comfortable. But nothing, really, was comfortable anymore- not with their memories threatening under the surface, not with his constant concern that something was about to break the weak boughs levying his psyche and ties to religion. So he'd chosen 'new' instead of comfortable on the days he wasn't watching Joei. And he'd quickly realized that 'new' meant he was due for a slot in the gossip rag, if some of the expressions on the older members of the church's congregation were any indicator. It's not an old church lady they end up catching up to at one of the booths, however, a slight smile on angular features as they greet Matt, instead. "Hello Matth- ahem, Matt. Sorry. I'm working on the propriety thing, I promise. How've you been? I hear you've moved in with Hawth- Hawk- I can't imagine what having that much space all of a sudden after living in the commune for a while must feel like, I'd be redecorating immediately."

@wanderinglcst

Fear and trauma strike his tongue dumb. Screams he remembers all too well for an amnesiac, a chorus outside the door of a house he's never been in as he bites a hole in his hand- scrawls the symbol tattooed on his body on the door in front of him. he traces the four puncture holes in the space between his thumb and forefinger- jumping nearly three feet in the air when a hand settles on his shoulder. "Fuck me running- Oh. Matt." he manages, swallowing tightly. "Did. did you need something? Sorry I- I spaced out, for a minute there."