Your strings bury deep, delivering crimson tones. A loud, gravel voice sounding songs of a dead man for the dead man. The Thinker lost to time; the Witch hums on in melancholy.
Dull that pain, through any means, the Thinker says. The Witch watches on as he gathers herbs, salves, potions. A fading song in the air dances around and his ears twitch. Over time, the Witch knows the painkillers are there for the Thinkers benefit, attempting to provide any opportunity to acquire more. But the Thinker … Continue reading Painkiller