#standalonerp

SELF PROMO ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ˚⋆｡˚

𝘼 𝘽𝙍𝙊𝙆𝙀𝙉 𝙈𝙄𝙍𝙍𝙊𝙍,  a whisper , ⠀some foreign tongue pinching his skin ⠀. ⠀it’s his face staring back ⠀. ⠀they are playing ⠀( in ⠀the ⠀𝑀 UD ) ⠀at being soldiers ⠀, ⠀until it’s no longer make believe .   tobacco still sticks to his skin ⠀, ⠀like a fleeting echo and he swore he’d give it up once the trenches were past ⠀, ⠀ but god ⠀, ⠀his lungs long to feel that tainted air .

they ⠀⠀are not his children

⠀⠀❛ ⠀⠀𝖮’ 𝖢𝖴𝖱𝖨𝖮𝖲𝖨𝖳𝖸 , 𝖫𝖨𝖪𝖤 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖲𝖳𝖠𝖱𝖲 . 𝖡𝖴𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦 𝖴𝖯 𝖨𝖭 𝖠 𝖯𝖤𝖳𝖳𝖨𝖢𝖮𝖠𝖳 𝖮𝖥 ⠀⠀𝖢𝖮𝖫𝖮𝖴𝖱𝖲. 𝖳𝖨𝖫𝖫 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖯𝖤𝖳𝖠𝖫𝖲 𝖥𝖠𝖫𝖫.⠀⠀ ❜

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀little ⠀⠀⠀boy ⠀⠀⠀wonder ⠀⠀⠀( 𝖊 𝖕  ! ) 

𝖗  o s e s ⠀, ⠀ their deep red blemish ⠀, ⠀ sometimes he found them amongst the snow ⠀. ⠀. the first blush of colour ⠀– ⠀ not  𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗈𝖽  spilling in soft drops to meet the white ⠀– ⠀ liquid blue battling the sky and grey ⠀, ⠀as the clouds merge like cotton in a storm. 

they were hard to pick with their army of thorns ⠀, ⠀ its own plague of decorated medals, each more treacherous than the next ⠀, ⠀ edmund knew . ⠀ and just like nails ⠀, ⠀ over and over till red lines grate against his skin beneath the itching cuffs of his shirt ⠀. ⠀𝗝𝗨𝗦𝗧 𝗟𝗜𝗞𝗘 𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗧 singular, repetitive motion, his eyes search for the red amongst the fields of white.

the house ⠀– ⠀ even that   ,   crumbling at the edges they cannot see  .   old brickwork ( 𝐼 t will not stand, not now    ,   not ever   ,   can you not see those beating winds of anger ?) , mould in the attic with the fold down stairs and the looming threat of smacking your head on the ridge ⠀. ⠀ the house too  . .  in its own absent field and  , ⠀ ‘ oh if that were true you’d never see your friends now, would you?” their mother laughs   .   edmund wonders ,

so strange

friend ⠀, ⠀ a 𝖽͟𝖾͟𝗋͟𝗂͟𝗌͟𝗂͟𝗏͟𝖾͟ 𝗌͟𝗇͟𝗈͟𝗋͟𝗍͟

but he moves away from the window, the glass and its make-believe painting of ⠀(  ‘ what is narnia ? ’ ) ⠀like a shadow he leans against the wall ⠀, ⠀a father  not yet home from the war ⠀, ⠀ strung on wounds not yet healed and their stitches drawing his shoulders straight and sharp like a ⠀⠀      toy soldier

⠀⠀puppet ⠀⠀whisperer

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀❛ ⠀⠀E  VEN ⠀⠀A  ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀T RAITOR ⠀⠀❜

edmund wonders

like some detached memory ⠀, ⠀ his tongue running over his lips ⠀, ⠀ if those blue eyes knew what they were seeing ⠀. ⠀𝑙 akes   , ⠀ absently drifting and a slow tug of air as if there was a rollup perched between his lips ⠀. ⠀ a lump catches in his throat .

a familiar look ⠀, ⠀ and his brother ( 𝑚 - agnificent 𝑜 ‘ ne  ) looms as if on command to his thoughts ⠀, ⠀ half a smile that doesn’t quite reach the stains of mud from their battle worn flesh and bones.

dad ⠀. ⠀ it always falls short of an utterance ⠀. ⠀ and they leave ⠀, ⠀ his shoes biting on the floor ⠀, ⠀ the silence blessed to the winding eyes that drill into the space between his shoulder blades  ⠀ 𝑒 dmund knows he’s watching ⠀. ⠀ almost a whisper ⠀, ⠀ half parted lips, ready, ready to

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀. ⠀⠀ .⠀⠀nothing .

the door falls shut