momma's boy

"It's cold." It is the arid, idle voice of a vapid mother, as though chiding him -- where is your jacket, Erebos? She has not seen him in a long while but still she knows him (for what mother does not know her own child?) and it is from a distance that she has watched his progression until he is near enough to speak to. It is mere idle chatter for now, the lazed progression of an awkward comment as she ventures forth, not quite moving to him, angled towards him but keeping her distance. Do you hate me, as they all do? She licks her lips and watches him a moment longer before her gaze ventures elsewhere, roving over the chilled waters that slough ice like a bear shedding its winter coat and she hums low in her throat, twisting her empty stare back to Erebos and offering him a chilly smile. "Shouldn't you be inside?" She tilts her head, quirks a brow, oddly aloof and resisting the urge to pull him into her embrace, for she is rather certain he cannot love her -- not after all this time.

a handshake


of carbon monoxide

Table by Azil