|It my art.|
October 3rd 1721October 3rd 1721 by Captain-Hotpants
There are times in this life that I find myself left in awe.
Left in utter amazement and confusion alike. It wasn't fourteen hours ago that I had come staggering up the ramp
from the docks, more scarlet and black than I was flesh. By the fates,I was more dead than alive when I'd collapsed
in the arms of Clarke -- but even at that point, I couldn't have felt more alive. The blood trickling down my skin,
caught up in my hair, and promising nothing more than the evidence of living to be branded into my body. My pallete.
My canvas. My tablet to scrawl the stories of my life upon.
He hasn't been himself in weeks. The new moon had come and gone and I haven't held his eye for longer than a breath -
allowing me only to relish in his attention for a moment until the next. Leaving me to sip it up like sweet nectar,
a drop at a time in fear of running short. Fear of being left to fast. To starve.
He makes me feel like an alcoholic. I'm sent up to the heavens under his gaze, his smi