๐๏น๐น๐๐บ & ๐ธ๐ ๐ต๐ด๐ด๐ป๐ ๐ป๐ธ๐บ๐ด ๐๐๐ฒ๐ท ๐ฐ ๐ต๐๐ฐ๐ถ๐ธ๐ป๐ด ๐๐ท๐ธ๐ฝ๐ถ;ย ย he holds itย as if he expects the knife to crumble in his palms like dry clay, sieve between the cracks in his joined fingers and fly off into the wind. the blade itself is graceful, the bold text impressed along the side making it even more-so in its mystery; a glimmering silver mottled with an aureateย vein that spiders across it like marble, all the way to the heavy hilt. itโs clearly sharp, the tip thin as a needleโs point, though heโs yet to test it- yet to drag it flat across his thumb to feel that familiar, bittersweet sting.
he holds it up to the gleam of a nearby window, carefully appraising it further in the wavering light.ย ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ฉ๐ช๐ฎ, ๐ช๐ต ๐ง๐ฆ๐ฆ๐ญ๐ด ๐ญ๐ช๐ฌ๐ฆ ๐ข ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ญ๐ช๐ค- though it clearly isnโt old enough to be something hesitantly biblical, his own personalย ย ๐ฉ๐๐ซ๐ ๐ข ๐ฌ๐ฃ ๐ฉ๐ฌ๐ซ๐ค๐ฆ๐ซ๐ฒ๐ฐ,ย ย itโs still something he knows heโll covet. though, that isnโt entirely based on the growing of his faith, unfurling, slowly but ultimately, like a chrysalis overdueโโย julie gifted him a knife once,ย too. he has it still. he cherishes it still. he cradles it gently like this, though that did not save it from being used wickedly, from being used violently. he feels as if this knife will serve him just the same. all that to say, ๐ข๐ญ ๐ข๐ฌ๐งโ๐ญ ๐ ๐ฌ๐ก๐จ๐ฐ๐ฉ๐ข๐๐๐. a knife is a knife no matter how you dress it up / a knife is a knife, no matter how deep it cuts.ย "๐๐จ๐จ๐ฅ...ย ๐ซ๐๐๐ฅ๐ฅ๐ฒ ๐๐จ๐จ๐ฅ.ย ๐๐ฎ๐ญ ๐ฒ๐จ๐ฎ ๐ค๐ง๐จ๐ฐ ๐ฆ๐ฒ ๐ฅ๐๐ญ๐ข๐ง'๐ฌ ๐ฌ๐ญ๐ข๐ฅ๐ฅ ๐ฌ๐ก๐ข๐ญ, ๐๐๐ญ๐ก๐๐ซโ ๐ฐ๐ก๐๐ญ'๐ฌ ๐ข๐ญ ๐ฌ๐๐ฒ?"