(For a second, it feels like the world is blank and only static hits his ears. He knew that he wasn't the only person to have experience such loss. History, even in here, tells tales of people being massacred purely for what they are. Who they are. But for eyes? This is news, and for a second, he feels a little less alone. He feels seen, like she could understand exactly what he went through. How difficult it is to make decisions for the dead. To be lonely in a way that only being the last can feel like.
It's unconscious. His eyes glow with anger not soon after that hopeful feeling dies, scarlet and a hue of tones dancing in his iris. He's rather angry that someone else has to go through the same pain, only because a bastard decides to.
cw genocide
It's unconscious. His eyes glow with anger not soon after that hopeful feeling dies, scarlet and a hue of tones dancing in his iris. He's rather angry that someone else has to go through the same pain, only because a bastard decides to.
It's hard to breathe, and he sucks in air.)
I'm sorry to hear that.