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Summary
He cannot speak – cannot breathe – as the witch’s herb-infused voice slithers out between half-parted lips. Crippled and afflicted.
“Ilya… they’re dying.”
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Summary
If he had to be haunted in the remaining years of his life - day or night by illusion, desire, memory - it was better than living without them.
Even if he had to stifle those thoughts, and guard them under lock and key.
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Summary
He's a snake with his tongue, dangerous and vague.
A viper of many smirks.
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The meaning of his tight-lipped grins was almost never clear, but you were sure of one thing.
He was a man of many smiles.
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Summary
He feels his hands around his throat and smiles. They were black and white, day and night, but in between it all was them; their hopes, expectations, and bitter love.

