#mint wainwright

Twilight quivers above him, clouds crowding the sky and blotting out the glistening moonlight. He fights an unsupportive Heaven as he staggers along the pavement, relying on what night vision he maintains. His blood no longer flows, but every step stains the stones beneath his feet regardless; it's as if he burns his path into the ground, dragging his heels and his ragged clothing along the floor. His presence sings of danger, misery; the streets around him have long since emptied, and for good reason, it seems. His hair sinks into his useless eye, his mouth twists around a promised revenge; he wants this so badly he might burst.