hadriel_logs | You must bear your neighbor's burden within reason.

Entry tags:

You must bear your neighbor's burden within reason.

Who: Glacius (

glacius) and Carlisle (

tongueamok)
What: Glacius' self-loathing and guilt force him to retreat after he takes the life of a possessed Emily. After waking Carlisle comes to check in on him, only to discover that the alien's physical injuries, despite their gruesomeness, are the least of the otherworldly being's wounds.
Where: Glacius' apartment (Spire Two, 401)
When: November 22nd.
Warnings: Mention of gore and other troubling stuff.

After bringing Carlisle to the clinic, making sure that his injuries had been stabilized, and being assured that his friend--if he even deserved to call him that any more after his complete and utter failure to the clergyman-- would pull through, Glacius had immediately departed from the premises. The humans that had currently been staffing the establishment had tried to insist that he stay and be allowed to be treated too, but he was having none of it. He didn't feel deserving of kindness right now and he certainly didn't want to be asked to explain what had happened to them both--or what had happened to the poor soul that hadn't been able to be brought with them. The ice alien pushed his way through them and departed, the only evidence that he'd been the one to bring Carlisle here the sizable trail of purple blood that he left in his wake.

After that he stumbled back to his apartment and spent the rest of the night in a fog, pain and fatigue combining with his raw guilt and anguish, making it impossible to think. At some point he must have cleaned the raw, ragged cuts that had ravaged the right side of his face to keep infection from claiming him, but he'd done nothing beyond that to take care of himself, physically or otherwise. He didn't see the point in keeping himself going. He simply retreated to his bedroom and spent the rest of the night curled up in a tight ball on the floor of his bedroom, passing in and out of consciousness and fits of raw, unguarded sorrow. His mental state had degraded so thoroughly that he wasn't even aware when night passed into morning, nor was he conscious of what a mess he'd left his apartment--purple bloodstains smeared on the doors, the handles, dripped all over the floors--or even himself.

Of course that he meant that he also wasn't aware that he was going to have company very shortly, though he was desperately in need of somebody to come and shake him out of his rapid descent into the dark pits of depression.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The clergyman slides again on the floor, even stiffer than last time, but determined to keep Glacius' focus.

"You did not want to do it, Glacius," he insists, his voice as unsteady as his breath. "Remorse is what separates us from the monsters, remember? Both you and I. Neither of us wanted what- what it is we sometimes do, either through accident or adversity, but it is our inclination to grieve, and seek forgiveness, that makes us who we are."

And that inclination is one that that so separates Glacius from Algidus, as well. The latter seemed to have no problem with causing pain and never apologizing for it, so willing to maintain his pride over what connections he'd fostered; Glacius, however, is far kinder, far softer, far more understanding. Perhaps Algidus was an aberrant after all, but just as Carlisle refused to give up on him, so he now refuses to abandon Glacius in his time of need. After all, if he cannot do this, then what good is he in keeping around?

"I didn't," Glacius shakes his head immediately, as if he needs to convince the clergyman, or himself. "I didn't want... any of this. I didn't want t-to... to kill Emily, but I d-didn't know what else to do... I didn't want you or anyone else to get hurt. I'm sorry. I'm... so sorry..."

The alien continues to grieve, apologizing again and again, as if it could change anything-- as if it could make anything better. The words feel empty even to him, and in time he'll likely look back on this behavior with some modicum of embarrassment, but he' spent a long time in this cave keeping the worst of his emotions under lock and key. Now he needs a chance to vent, to try and expel all of that ugly sorrow and self-loathing--and just as importantly, to mourn for his friend, and the horrible events that were forced to come to pass.

"You don't need to apologize," Carlisle insists, remaining before Glacius another moment before his eyes are drawn once again to the half-mended wound on his face. The raw flesh is still exposed, still vulnerable; if he cannot help with the emotional wounds, perhaps he should continue to deal with the physical, first.

"A moment while I fetch a few things," he utters, easing to his feet, clamping his mouth shut as he rises to stifle the pain in his middle. He steps into the bathroom, hoping the first aid supplies Glacius had mentioned before will be in an obvious enough location.

Contrary to what Carlisle might think, he is helping; having someone willing to sit there and listen to him as he tries his best to clear out all of the emotional gunk clogging his hearts and his head, making it impossible to think on anything except how much he's hurting, means rather a lot to the alien. And though it might not be all that flattering, it's an extreme gesture of trust on Glacius' part that he's even showing this level of vulnerability to the clergyman. Because he's not used to being this open with people, however, it means he's not quite sure what to make of his friend's sudden departure, and he grows worried that his open display of emotion has disgusted or irritated Carlisle. While he's in the bathroom looking for medical supplies the alien is trying to get a handle on himself, doing his best to lock his sorrow away again.

As for Carlisle's task, nothing is left out in the open--the supplies were valuable, so Glacius didn't want to leave them just lying around. He's stowed bigger items in the cabinet under the sink, and smaller ones--like tubes of antibiotic ointment and bottles of medicine--in another compartment fastened to the wall across from it. By the time the clergyman returns to the man room, the ice alien has balled his fists against the ground and is attempting to sit up straight, pulling in deep and rhythmic breaths through flaring gills. The sound of approaching footsteps pulls him out of what is undoubtedly an attempt to calm and regather himself, and he quickly notes the medical supplies that the human is carrying.

"... Good. Good, yes, I should... I should see to your injuries. I need to begin... making all this up to you, in whatever way I can."

Modern medicine is not Carlisle's strongest suit: he's picked up a few things here and there from both his time on the Tranquility and with Kate, but he still prefers to stick with what he knows. However, as most of his materials for alchemy and glyphcrafting are back at the house he shares with Kate and Faith, he has to make do with what he has gleaned in his time away from his world. After a quick search of the cabinets in the restroom, he comes back with an armful of goods: some bandages, a washrag, and disinfectant. He skips the medicines for now, not knowing nearly enough about such things to make use of them.

Carlisle sets the supplies on the floor, pulling the top off the bottle of disinfectant so he can coat the washrag. His eyes widen just a hair at Glacius' suggestion, as though he'd forgotten that was even on the table. "Your face, first. We should put something over it, so the raw flesh doesn't b- become infected. Does it need to heal before you rebuild the ice over it?"

Is that him trying to gloss over the subject? Absolutely.

Glacius will allow the glossing over temporarily, if only because the question is a pertinent one, but he is certainly not going to forget--his natural protectiveness towards his friends couple with his overwhelming guilt over the clergyman's injuries means that he's feeling a little more antsy in this regard than usual. He still doesn't believe that he deserves this much attention from a man who he has failed, but he'll let Carlisle treat him if only because he knows that once that is done, he can return the favor.

"Technically there needs to be at least partial healing, yes. Ice can be reformed over an open wound by adhering to intact shell around it, but in order for both layers of my body to truly join, there must be skin for the for the ice to adhere to. Think of... ehm... an icy lake, with a hole bored deep into it, exposing water that had not yet frozen further down. A thin layer could freeze over the top of the hole, effectively covering the opening, but it would be a brittle, easily dislodged. Now, if the waters were allowed to freeze over again and ice built up from there, it would be much thicker, and far more solid. Does... that make sense?"

Despite his puzzled look at the end of Glacius' explanation, Carlisle nods. "I, er... believe so, yes. Either way, we should keep it clean."

He pours some disinfectant onto the rag, setting the bottle aside. "Would you rather I do this, or would you prefer to do it yourself? It will sting, though admittedly, probably not as much as my own magic just did."

The alien nods dully in agreement; though he cleaned the wound when he returned to his apartment last night, he then spent the remainder of it curled in a ball on his floor, so... repeat cleanings would certainly be wise. "Normally I would just do it myself, but... well... I can't see the wound as well as you can, given its placement. You'll be able to tell if there's any errant dirt or other foreign substances in the wound... and... you've seen to me before. I trust you, Carlisle."

That laid out between them, Glacius turns his head away so that the ruined side of his face is now pointing towards Carlisle and shuts his eyes. Though the clergyman's healing has put it in a much better state than the ragged and raw wound it was before, it's still extremely brutal and ugly-looking-- by far the worst part is the torn open socket that Carlisle is now looking straight at. Where his mandible once attached, now there's nothing more than a deep, gaping hole from which a jagged piece of bone protrudes. It is obviously extremely painful to the alien still... but after everything he's been through in his life, both back on earth and here in this cave, he seems sadly used to that.

It was one thing to heal Glacius when there was still blood, both dried and not, covering the wound; it is another to clean said wound and be able to see the damage done in graphic detail. Though he has a moment's worth of regret dance across his face, Carlisle swallows down both the ink in his mouth and the knot in his throat, steeling himself.

"Let's get started then. I'll do this as quickly as possible." And try not to let his hands shake too much. He prepares to press the rag to Glacius' face, cleaning around the wound and working his way out. "Any bandages we have may not work well, given your, er. Composition. I'm not entirely sure how your people treat such wounds."

"We treat wounds with--" Glacius's words are cut off with a sudden, sharp hiss as he feels the rag rub up against still-angry flesh and the disinfectant begin seeping into the wound. He tries to distract himself by focusing on his explanation. "--With a healing salve that adheres to a wound and sets, sterilizing it and keeping out any foreign particles that could cause infection. The salve itself is derived from specialized cells in our own bodies which enable our shifting abilities, so it is able to change over time into healthy tissues, mending the wound without need for painful things like stitches--" which Carlisle should know by now that the alien detests-- "or even changing or removing dressings. The healing agent comes from our bodies, and becomes a part of our bodies again. It is a process more natural than it initially seems."

Glacius is going into such a long-winded explanation to try and keep his mind off of the pain while the disinfectant gets to work, but given what Carlisle knows about the alien's culture and their value of secrecy, the fact that he's explaining any of this to begin with may be fairly significant. Somewhere along the line the ice alien's walls have begun to come down around the clergyman... the fact that he was so open with his emotions just a moment ago was further proof of that. Perhaps it's not all that surprising, given how Carlisle has been right at his side in the moments where he needed help the most... but Glacius is a creature who is still learning to open himself up to people, so when he realizes this his eyes widen and his breath hitches in a startled manner. He momentarily leans his head away from the cloth to turn to face the man, but then it occurs to him that Carlisle will likely take this as a sign of distress or disapproval... so he gradually settles his wound against the clergyman's palm, covered in a rag now soaked in both disinfectant and his blood.

Though his guilt is still strong over everything that has transpired, and he's still not sure if he deserves this kind attention, the otherworldly creature is beginning to realize what a comfort it is to have someone else around when things feel like they can't get any worse. Glacius pulls in a deep and shaky breath and then tilts his head against Carlisle's hand a little more thoroughly now, like he's tentatively testing out what it's like to allow himself this sort of solace from someone... and maybe it's just the exhaustion finally taking its toll on him, but after a few moments he seems to settle, as his eyelids settle nearly shut.

As absolutely fascinating as Carlisle finds the explanation, he knows good and well Glacius is mostly trying to take his mind off the pain; even Carlisle feels some sympathetic stings in his face as he pulls the rag away, pouring more disinfectant on it as he does. He returns to keep cleaning when the alien shifts away from him, eyeing him with a look that Carlisle isn't entirely sure how to take. He stiffens, those green eyes so like Algidus', and expects the worst.

But the worst doesn't come. True to his softer nature, Glacius doesn't lash out, but instead settles back against Carlisle's hand, allowing him to continue working. Breathing a sigh of relief, he can't help but smile just a little. He feels... useful here, even as Glacius leans further into his grasp. It's so odd to see someone so strong so vulnerable, so in need of help from someone like him.

He finishes up, taking a look at his handiwork. It isn't any prettier, but at least it's clean. "How does that feel?" he asks, breaking the silence.

Glacius's eyes flutter open again, and with a gusty huff that expels plumes of freezing mist into the air he leans his head up and shakes it slightly, trying to snap himself back to full alertness. "Well, it's not going to stop hurting any time soon..." not unless he decides to try cracking into the painkillers he's stashed in the bathroom, and they already touched on his reluctance to do so, "... But at least now it's... in a good way. I think. The stinging means that the disinfectant is working, correct..?"

"It does," Carlisle affirms. "We should bandage it, though..."

His brow furrows. He's not entirely sure how they're going to do that, aside from the obvious 'go all the way around his head' method.

"We might have to be a tad creative with it."

Glacius grimaces. "I... I feel like I am not going to like what you are about to suggest. But... I suppose that anything is better than walking around with a gaping hole in my face, free for any infection to take up residence." And the fact that he's actually thinking like that, not just languishing around with an open wound any more-- should be a heartening sign that all of Carlisle's hard work to stabilize him is gradually beginning to pay off.

Carlisle puts on that nervous smile, knowing that yes, Glacius likely won't like what he is about to suggest. At least he's listening, though, and no longer dwelling on what happened with the demon.

"We'll have to go around your entire head, for one," he says softly. "And unless you are hiding some of that salve your people use, someone will need to change it at least once every day or so, lest it fester."

His eyes flick to and away from Glacius in that moment; Carlisle is aware people tend to tolerate him in small doses, and assumes the alien might prefer someone else -- someone with more medical knowledge, perhaps -- tend to him from here on out.

Edited 2016-11-30 11:24 (UTC)

Glacius would prefer that no one would have to tend to him from here on out--not only because he likes his space, but because he hates the thought of inconveniencing someone like that, having them take time so frequently out of their schedules to come and check on him. However, the past two days have been incredibly hard on him-- so while normally the otherworldly warrior would be perfectly alright with seeing to this wound himself, being left to his own devices for multiple days probably is not the best idea. Carlisle might be pleased to see that he's not currently dwelling on the demon, but that's simply because the injury had been a pressing matter and the pain of it a temporary distraction. The alien isn't going to be able to bounce back from killing one of his closest friends in this place so easily, and he knows it; the physical wounds he's sporting may be grievous, but it is the emotional ones that will taken even longer still to heal...

... And if he's honest with himself, there's one person who he knows that he can trust with those particular vulnerabilities. It's the clergyman sitting right next to him, who's already seen him at his lowest and shouldered him through it. The demon might have fallen, but its death has given fuel to plenty of his own--and Carlisle has always been understanding and supportive when it comes to talking him through things so that he can ward them off. Glacius may not be ready to openly admit it yet, but he's coming to realize that he's going to need that support moving forward if he really ways to come to grips with everything that has transpired.

So the big icy creature lowers his head slightly and averts his eyes. "I... I know it is not my place to ask this of you, not after... such a colossal failure. But if you... if you wanted to stop by, I... I wouldn't mind," Glacius tries, his gills fluttering one after the other, like a human might wet their lips in apprehension. "You... you have been good to me, have never judged me for my weaknesses... and I know that right now, I am far from the strength and nobility that I normally aspire to. I don't want anyone else to see me like this, but I know that you understand, and that... that means more to me than I can say, Carlisle."

Carlisle fully expects to be turned down, despite what he is sure is his obvious desire to continue to help; surely Glacius would prefer to either deal with the wound himself, he notes inwardly. He's a proud being, and one who wouldn't want to suffer any more indignity than he has to. His having barged into the alien's apartment is probably mortifying enough, he realizes belatedly.

So he's completely surprised when Glacius doesn't turn him away, but gives him a standing invitation to return -- it's one Carlisle is elated to accept, a genuine grin pulling at him in spite of Glacius' apparent shame in asking for such assistance. It's true that Glacius isn't the pinnacle of strength he usually is, but being allowed to see this side of him has been enlightening... and encouraging. Carlisle feels he actually can do something for his alien friend, that he can be of use to him in more than simply a healing capacity.

"I—" He feels his face burn -- he's not used to the feeling of hope welling in his chest. "I would be happy to, Glacius. I- I- I mean, honored. Honored to help in some way. You... you, too, have seen me at the lowest I have been in some time, and stood by me despite- despite what I am and what I have done. It's... important to me that I'm able to help you, to somehow repay all that you have done for me when I didn't deserve it."

Edited 2016-12-01 03:08 (UTC)

They've both managed to surprise each other, then, for Glacius could not imagine how Carlisle could feel honored by him in this moment. He's spent these two few days feeling worse than worthless, so sure that he was a failure to those around him-- a failed warrior, a failed protector, a failed friend. And now here he was, further burdening the clergyman with his own injuries, marks of his failure that he truly thought he should have had to bear alone. That Carlisle doesn't see any of this like that, but rather genuinely wants to help him... that he still sees the alien as being worthy of his efforts and kindness... it revitalizes a part of the alien's soul that had he'd torn down upon his friend's death. Glacius flicks his gaze to Carlisle in surprise, then immediately averts them again-- not only because he's not sure if he deserves to look the man in the eye yet, but also because he can feel the outpouring of kindness causing his cheekbones beginning to color faintly in appreciation and gratefulness.

"You... you don't need to repay me, Carlisle. You've always been at my side, even when it put your wellbeing at risk. If anything, this will be a chance for me to... make up for my failures from the day before. I have a lot of that to do..." Not just with the clergyman, though that's going to be his starting point since he's right here and he's been so good to him. "... I would like to begin working on that, if I could. Let us figure out how we can bandage my wounds, so that I can move on to seeing to yours."

Carlisle's brow twitches. "Mine, of course." He still sounds so unsure about that, but Glacius' memory is proving impeccable. He gathers up the bandages from the floor next to him and gets on his knees, giving him more height to work with when it comes to wrapping the alien's face.

"I suppose we'll need to.. hm." He tilts his head, trying to figure out the best way to go about this. "Right. Pack it with some gauze, then wrap over the top. That seems like that will be the best course of action?"

With memories of coming upon the unconscious clergyman and seeing those gruesome gashes in his torso still fresh in his mind, and guilt still happily chewing away at his hearts because of that, there is no way the alien could forget. As hard as it is to come to terms with, Glacius knows that he can't change any of what happened... all he can do now is to try do right by the people that have suffered because of him. And he's certainly not going to leave Carlisle hurting when the clergyman has put himself through so much just to come see to him.

That need to make it up to Carlisle is part of the reason he's doing his very best to be a good patient, despite the fact that the human is suggesting things that sound painful or unpleasant. When he rises up to his knees the alien lowers his head again--not insignificant, given that's posture meant to show deference to another--to make it easier for him to reach. "I... I suppose," Glacius grits out, none too pleased, but going along with all of this anyways. "Try to avoid wrapping anything in front of my eye... my eyes," he corrects himself, remembering that it was thanks to Carlisle that he even has the one on the right side of his face at all. "... Don't know... how you did that. Even weakened, your abilities are... remarkable."

"I do try to be skilled at my craft," he says, aware Glacius isn't going to be happy about this no matter how the bandaging goes. He gets a handful of gauze, packs the wound, and gets started.

"It's simply a matter of using my energy to coax your body into repairing the damage," he explains. "I can also use it to manipulate your energy into helping me accomplish this." He reaches over Glacius' head, using his spikes to keep the bandages from covering his eyes. "Admittedly, your alien anatomy makes this a little difficult, but the principle is th—ghk!"

The bandage roll falls to the floor, leaving a trail of linen behind it as Carlisle curls in on himself; he stretched his torso too far, the stitches pulling against his tender, wounded skin. One hand goes to his chest, right over the rips in his tabard, while the other grabs a hold of Glacius' shoulder as Carlisle uses the alien to steady himself. He takes a shallow breath and continues talking, as though he may be able to brush it off and minimize his reaction if he just rushes past it. His voice shakes with his body as he tries to recover.

"P- pri- principle is the- the same, I s- suppose from world to world."

Glacius is already leaning down and moving to offer himself as support as Carlisle gives off that sharp and pained exhalation and doubles over; the reaction is immediate, but not automatic. This time he is very intentionally offering himself for the clergyman to lean on, literally and otherwise. Worry springs up in his hearts, as well as a spike of frustration and anger with himself that his friend is suffering yet again for trying to help him.

"Enough of this," the ice alien rumbles out, "I have let you exert yourself too much on my behalf already. I will sit by while you are clearly tired and in pain no longer."

Without waiting for any protest, Glacius slings an arm low around Carlisle's waist and then tucks the clergyman carefully against his body so that he can heft him in his arms as he rises up to his feet. Staggering briefly--agony and exhaustion have been sapping at his strength all through the night and morning--he regains his balance and starts walking them into the guest bedroom, perhaps more accurately called Carlisle's bedroom since he's been the only guest to stay in it. The ice alien lays him down on the bed, just as he did not all that long ago when the human had been too drunk and too worn down by his own problems to make it to his home alone, then steps back slightly.

"I am going to fetch what medical supplies I have... take this time to remove those garments," he suggests, having no idea that being seen without some one's clothes on could be cause for shame or embarrassment-- or that Carlisle has his own personal woes about exposing himself in such a manner. "I will be waiting outside your door. Call for me when you are ready."

And with that he's gone from the room, leaving the clergyman with some privacy in which to prepare himself for tending.

With his attempt to ignore his injuries thoroughly ignored itself, Carlisle switches to nervous, but polite, panic. "No no no no, I'm fine. I haven't even tied off the bandages yet! Glacius, I'll—"

His breath hitches again as the alien picks him up -- gentle as he tries to be, the movement still pulls on Carlisle's already aggravated injuries, sucking the air and fight out of him all at once. He shuts his eyes and tries to keep any further signs of pain to himself; by the time he opens them again, he's being deposited in the guest bedroom (the one he stayed in, but not his room, as surely Glacius will have other guests at some point). He tries to protest, but out the door Glacius goes, leaving him to undress.

It hadn't occurred to Carlisle until that moment that Glacius' people would likely have no qualms about seeing one another unclothed; after all, it doesn't seem they wear clothes at all, but rather liken the more human concept of nudity to when they must expose their underbodies. Carlisle is not only human and clergy, and therefore does have some ingrained resistance to being completely unclothed, but he also has other issues with it, ones he would rather not expose to just anyone.

But Glacius isn't just anyone -- Glacius is is friend, one who has already seen him vulnerable, worn. The alien has stood by him longer than Carlisle would stand by himself. And more than that, he agreed to Glacius' terms when insisting he be allowed to heal the icy giant's jaw, and certainly won't be getting out of his end of the deal now that he's stuck in the guest bedroom with said giant waiting for him just beyond the door. His chest and his old wounds ache, and his nerves only seem to make the tremors running through him worse.

But he finally does get started after another minute or two of silent, worried contemplation. He begins with the tabard, undoing the buttons carefully. His hands are too shaky to repair the tears across the front himself, but perhaps Emily will not mind doing so once she returns... if she returns. It could have been worse, he reminds himself. It could have been him and Glacius. The alien might have preferred that, but Carlisle isn't eager to risk a revival from the false gods. He has been close to death enough times already, one incident in particular bringing him far closer than others.

Next comes his jacket, slipped off and laid beside his tabard on the bed. The shirt beneath is skin-tight, and torn as well -- at least it wasn't irreparably ruined in the middle, as it had been on his right arm when a mimic nearly bit the limb off. He considers leaving the shirt on, but as the bandages around his torso go up fairly high, off it goes as well, pulled from him bit by bit so as not to worsen the rips. With the one sleeve and glove still attached to it, that leaves him with only the ink-stained bandage on his arm, the remaining glove, and the bloodied bandages around his chest.

And, of course, the dark scars that trail outward from the bottom of the wrappings around his middle: deep, violet claw marks from a wound long healed, but one that plagues him nonetheless to this day. Carlisle takes a deep breath and tries to fight the mortification written across him as he crosses his arms, becoming the very picture of discomfort. "I'm ready."

Edited 2016-12-01 19:51 (UTC)

By the time Carlisle has worked those garments off, Glacius has already gathered up an armful of supplies and is standing by the door again. He's brought with him a little bit of everything, because while he trusts the expertise of those in the clinic, he has no idea if the occasional pained noises the clergyman has been giving off this whole time means that he's managed to reopen a wound, or something else equally serious. He's back in the room at Carlisle's side in an instant when he's called for, setting all of the supplies down at the foot of the mattress so that they're in easy reach... and then he turns to his friend, ready to begin triage.

The blood staining the bandages is certainly worrisome, but what immediately catches the alien's attention is those dark purple scars that rake across his abdomen. Glacius is quite sure that is not the color human flesh is supposed to be-- and he's seen a lot of grisly wounds thanks to his time in Ultratech's clutches. In fact, it looks more like an old scarring that would result in of his species, given the color of their insides. He's not sure at all what to make of it, but given how he'd seen Carlisle clutching at his middle in distress a number of times today, he can't help the surge of concern that wells up inside him.

He also, unfortunately, has no idea that calling attention to these scars is going to likely make the human feel so much worse about being exposed in this manner. He's already been staring, first in shock and then in intent examination, but now he flicks his eyes up to the clergyman's face. "Carlisle--what is this. Are those wounds infected? What... what should I do?"

Carlisle's eyes dart to Glacius, and the look he gives the alien for a split second is absolutely venomous. His skin burns crimson as he tears his gaze away once more, his face contorting as he grinds his teeth.

"Nothing," he insists. "Old wounds you need not concern yourself with."

Edited 2016-12-01 21:27 (UTC)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject