#bezitramide

(how exactly do you love someone?)

some tell him its in the language of flowers: red roses for a love, for an eternal spring that blooms. others tell him its in his actions, tender kisses, soft touches. chivalry. small notes to prove his affection. jewelry, diamond rings, chocolates in velvet heart-shaped boxes. watching the sunrise. every single definition he’s heard is different.

mori doesn’t know how to love. he’s never learned, not in the fifty million, forty hundred thousand and so runs he’s gone through in his existence. mori is a video game character. he’s computed to shoot until his ship explodes. the screen pops up with a HIGH SCORE title and numbers. he rests until the next willing victim tosses a coin into the system. rinse, repeat.

“saving people is all i’m good for, jourdan.” 

(& i can’t even do that in this world.)

send me a ‘soul’ and my muse will describe what they think your muse’s soul ‘sounds’ like - Accepting 

Settling his beer back down onto the counter, Akira took a moment to stare to truly take the woman in. The question was innocent enough, but it was still a strange one even for two strangers in a bar. As of late, Akira couldn’t be sure what he believed in spiritually, but he had no doubt that everyone and nearly everything had a soul. Yet, to try to put words in defining what Jourdan’s soul sounded like was something Akira could not answer. Not in the way she was hoping for at least. That would take more than a near-tipsy conversation to attempt.