#coalment

In his gaze would rest nothing but admiration-- thankfulness in the gentle flicker of forest hues across the coal boy, the way his lips would twitch up into the purity of a sad smile. Happiness would often be fleeting, but Asher would grip it tight between his fingers and milk such a beast for all its worth; for life had taken and taken, and a cruel beast she was becoming, but in rare moments did she give great gifts to the world. 

      ❝ Tom, what does this smell of? ❞ She's already pushed the item his way, curious as to if he knows because she's certainly not at all sure. She can't put her finger on it but it's familiar and it's bothering her -- so much so, that she's wrinkling her nose in frustration.