[a what?? his brow furrows slightly as he listens, cognizant enough of the apparent shared understanding there that he... really doesn't get, though he recognizes at least one word. the young man in the mall had mentioned sarkaz. that's the extent of his familiarity, for now.
what he's paying more attention to is the way midnight settles at his feet, reaching down to let his fingers thread into his hair. the way kaveh's wing stretches out. he lets his head tilt into the touch of those feathers, reaching out to brush against them in turn.
it really does suit kaveh, to have given him wings.]
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what he's paying more attention to is the way midnight settles at his feet, reaching down to let his fingers thread into his hair. the way kaveh's wing stretches out. he lets his head tilt into the touch of those feathers, reaching out to brush against them in turn.
it really does suit kaveh, to have given him wings.]
A story where one of you is supposed to die.
[by his own hand, at that.]