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“I hate you. I hate you!” His thin hands cover his face, shielding himself from her intense watch. How deplorable. How utterly shameful it is, allowing himself to crumple as the god pulls herself flush to her doll. The self loathing thoughts only grow louder as Ei’s hand finds his cheek. As his eyes find his archon’s once more, he finds himself leaning into her touch, despite his venomous words.
Or, Scaramouche dreams. He dreams of what could have been.
Bookmarked by Igabelle
14 May 2023
