All he had were questions and more questions. He breathed in harder as he shook his head. He was suddenly tired. Brains run on blood. Perhaps he needed to try a little sweetness in his mouth and he might last longer. There was a certain level of tiredness that equated to his insanity; to his inner monster, and for Dimitri, it was when he liked to temporarily dislocate his spirit from his body as if he could ask the gods to take him out for just a short while, let his soul go wherever souls go. He was a fairly brave person; he was, after all, the last one of his kind, but sometimes he just doesn't want to feel the process of recovery all over again. He knew he would wake up eventually, or perish, but somehow it was simply a level of worn-out-ness that hurt.
The Dark Luna
Fantasy · CELLICA
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