☂; I D I O C Y
                      ☆  masquerades itself  .. )
   ↻&;       as a white-haired bane.

█▐ ❆ ࿐ᐤ  TIME HAD EBBED by slower than an old treacle. Gray’s usual poised had been supplanted by a fidgety composure as he lingered beneath a tremendous tree ; spines perching against the sturdy wood as windswept mounds of earth &&. grass embodied him. Lyon would be here, at this rink ; Lyon with his legs sometimes harboring the fluidity of youth, but the other times jagged like he can’t control it. Lyon.

    There is a kind of waiting that feels like gentle onshore breezes kissing salty stones. It isn’t warm but there is a sense of calm, of nature, of things E X P E C T E D. Then there is the kind that feels like the head of a medieval mace is loose in his guts &&. Gray’s crown has taken a walloping with a hefty plank of wood, hard.

              ❝ —-Tch. ❞

     His left hand fastened involuntarily around his ice-skating shoelaces ; a feeble attempt to tame his fraying NERVES. He blinked at the immobile screen, thumb slowly grazing its pane to finally construct a wary reply.

At 5 my ass… 

⠀

◤          ✉ ＴＯ: ＬＹＯＮ ＶＡＳＴＩＡ

【 Gray 】5:01 PM .

⠀⠀⠀wHeRE teh fuKc. |

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