Clemente
run, love
i'm the truth that you're afraid of
i'm the truth that you're afraid of
"Never enter the Greatwood." Wessex's voice is unmistakable, the warnings on the Notice Board (his choice of learning material) all resounding within his brain. Standing at the border between the Grounds and the Greatwood, Clem digs the toe of his shoe into the snow, biting his lip until both top fangs poke out.
He wants to go in. Of course he does, like any stupid teenager who doesn't believe in their own mortality. But he respects Wessex too much to disobey her either. So instead he merely stands there, unaware he's still dressed in Torchline-light clothes and far too much of a sore thumb. He doesn't have anywhere to be, had only come to the Grounds to visit Bastien and Rexanna, but he finds himself transfixed by the towering trees nonetheless.
He wants to go in. Of course he does, like any stupid teenager who doesn't believe in their own mortality. But he respects Wessex too much to disobey her either. So instead he merely stands there, unaware he's still dressed in Torchline-light clothes and far too much of a sore thumb. He doesn't have anywhere to be, had only come to the Grounds to visit Bastien and Rexanna, but he finds himself transfixed by the towering trees nonetheless.
i'm the fever that you can't get down
Just a martyr on a bridge that's burning down
Just a martyr on a bridge that's burning down
