1 Work by futulo
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They can feel it now, the absence of their soul, as palpable as the hotness lining their features, the wet along their lips, the salt burdening their sinful tongue.
The latter lolls behind their teeth, uselessly, now, pressing against the ridges of their molars, the sharp, monster-like canines near the front. The result of dysphoria, they mull quietly, feeling the clumsy carve along the incisors. It hurts, they press harder.
Noelle stands, they grasp at her wrist. She’s quick to escape that, even, in a way she is to throw herself into anything else. To throw herself into Kris.
or, Kris finds Noelle the night after giving her the thorn ring. Forgiveness is hard when the victim is willing.