Nov 18, 2019
@midvalley-the-hornfreak
If there’s a cure for this wanderlust, then Demyan hasn’t found it. He spends more time outside than he does inside, in search of something he has no name for. Purpose, people? A fight, a cure? Who knows.
He has one hand cupped around the end of a cigarette somewhere in Archimedes, thinking that if someone were to come by it’d be nice. At what feels like an hour way too early, he doesn’t think its likely.
Someone approaches, and Demyan takes a step back.
“Yeah?”
