[His hurts are things he's lived with his entire life. Sometimes he can ride them out, like a wave broken up against a cliffside. Cut the taste of his meds with the smell of salt, the spray of ocean water on his lips, the scent of flowers. Borrowed memory from sparking neurons, tuning-fork souls.]
[It's one of the reasons he can shrug that away. Anger is a strange color on them. He won't begrudge their capacity to use it a little more than they historically choose to.]
[They licked the pad of their thumb and rubbed it at the slate to clean it all off, chalk dust and ink. Rubbed it all out, except you could still kinda see what still written on it before.]
no subject
[His hurts are things he's lived with his entire life. Sometimes he can ride them out, like a wave broken up against a cliffside. Cut the taste of his meds with the smell of salt, the spray of ocean water on his lips, the scent of flowers. Borrowed memory from sparking neurons, tuning-fork souls.]
[It's one of the reasons he can shrug that away. Anger is a strange color on them. He won't begrudge their capacity to use it a little more than they historically choose to.]
[They licked the pad of their thumb and rubbed it at the slate to clean it all off, chalk dust and ink. Rubbed it all out, except you could still kinda see what still written on it before.]
[But try as you might, ]
What about you?