[ asura has not had a passing relationship with 'well' in this life and it's difficult to imagine he fared any better in the last. though he sees the scar drawn jagged across her throat as he pushes past her, he does not give it any particular notice. what are scars but a fact of life? but a record of the price one has paid to stand where they are today? he has no reason to read her ledger so he surges on.
all but breaking into her space, he snatches up the first framed photo he sees and squints at the contents— a man. asura's eyes scan the walls and he sees the woman who answered the door staring back at him as well.
whirling around, asura thrusts the frame in his hands at the stranger, eyes wild. ]
Who is this?! [ he demands, muscles pulled so taut that even his broad frame trembles.
it seems the madness is never far from him after all. ]
no subject
all but breaking into her space, he snatches up the first framed photo he sees and squints at the contents— a man. asura's eyes scan the walls and he sees the woman who answered the door staring back at him as well.
whirling around, asura thrusts the frame in his hands at the stranger, eyes wild. ]
Who is this?! [ he demands, muscles pulled so taut that even his broad frame trembles.
it seems the madness is never far from him after all. ]