#preytold

allie  hayes  (  @preytold  )  said  to  dean  di  laurentis  ;  “you’re lonely because you chose to be.”

 ❛   I—   ❜     words eluded him as they always did in blue’s presence,   though it no longer left a sense of peace behind but that of a quiet that comes before a storm.     ❛   I sang it your favourite songs!   ❜     gansey’s defence was flimsy.   it could be argued that monmouth manufacturing,   which saw sunlight even on cold winter days for it’s the tall bay windows and floor-to-ceiling glass panels,   was a good place for a fern place to find its footing.    but monmouth manufacturing could never house a plant for the simple fact that a refrigerator was interspersed inside a bathroom,  pizza boxes covered the floor like carpet, and its inhabitants were not familiar with the art of simple housekeeping.    ❛   would it help to hold a memorial service?   ❜    the joke didn’t land and he touched the stem with the tip of his finger.    it almost bristled,   though it could have just been gansey’s desperate imagination.      ❛   too soon?    please don’t be mad at me.   ❜

❛    —    i'm not used it,    ❜    he scoffs,    feeling like a fumbling toddler as he tries to get used to having a paint brush in his hand.    it feels alien to him,    and he's not entirely sure what the mess he's created on the page is....𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄.    much like clary herself,    he hails from a family of artists,    though it was laura who got all that talent whilst he can barely draw a stick man without messing it up.    (    doodling in the margins of notebooks when he's supposed to be listening is the extent of his artistic abilities.    )    ❛    but i can learn.    ❜ 

tessa  gray  (  @preytold  )  said  to  kit  herondale  ;  ❝ you’re hurt. can you walk? ❞

❛    —    i held that grudge 'til it tore me apart,    ❜    he murmurs,    dark brows knitting together.    (    he tries not to think about beacon hills,    or how returning there turned him into a monster he hardly recognised,    but sometimes,    he just can't escape the memories.    )    the wolf is entirely unsure how jocelyn fairchild manages to 𝐂𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐏𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐔𝐓 before he has a chance to think about what he's doing,    but it's a special skill,    the same one his own mother had when she was alive. there's a mostly cold mug of tea resting on the table infront of him,    though he still curls his fingers around the porcelain as though he's trying to warm his hands,    looking down at the murky contents to avoid 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 he was being given,    the kinda of look that burns through to the charred remnants of his soul.    ❛    power went to my head,    and i couldn't stop.    ❜ 

❝ it feels like we're just going round and round and round . . . ❞