Joseph does not understand the mindset of someone who cuts themself. It is not that he doesn't get the need to feel something -- rather, he assumes, like a more dramatic version of picking at that scab on your elbow. It's an interesting sensation and one Cecily might have rebuked him for exploring at some point in the past ( Read more... )

It's two in the morning. If Joseph were at all the superstitious type (and isn't it odd that he isn't) he might be scared witless by the knocking coming from the boiler room just on the other side of his bedroom wall ( Read more... )

Dear Quinten ( Read more... )

It's an older style basement apartment, wallpaper stained from age and peeling, lighting flickering and dull everywhere but the kitchen and around an old desk. The carpets have obviously been pulled up for in the corners you can make out bits of glue and some fibers. In place of it there are symbols painted the entire length, swirling around each ( Read more... )

Every line is a new sweep of life, a breath of spell being held; waiting. Ink colors blend and twist around each other in complicated forms one minute before circling into simplistic whirls of power.

This is magic. With a touch of your fingers or a gasp breathing in the ashes of their former being you ca unleash it.