#hello ilu

Harlow's fingers curl. Something breaks inside Sofia. Breaks so much that she could scream. ❛ Don't. ❜ Her words aren't unkind. But her voice, and her eyes, are.

It started during his time in the carnival! He was.. a little special even from the start. He heard voices of The Other, and their whispers only grew louder over the sweeps. He became a speaker for them, but not of his own volition. The church in that area of the country exploited him for their own political gain, using him to preach their sayings and converting others. Over time was used as a conduit to the horrorterrors themselves.

It was on purpose, and he hated every second of it. He can’t remember a time where his body belonged to himself. The concept of not having an impossibly full presence pressing against the inside of every inch of skin, every space in his skull- they threaten to rip free from him, and they’re good at reminding him that he isn’t for himself anymore. It’s a constant battle to be.. himself, if that makes sense. 

Right now they are simply chilling inside him and pulling strings where need be. He hates calling upon them, but it feels a bit of a uh, poetic justice? To get back at the church with the power of the false prophets they pray to.