“What are you?”
A beat, & ink bubbles up, words unfurling like spiders: “Perhaps once I was a man. Perhaps now I am merely a memory, stuck within these pages.”
Hawthorn sits back. “I don’t have time for games,” they sigh. At least nothing’s jumped out at them. Yet.
They write:
0%
Speak plainly, please 💬
0%
Were you a wizard? 🪄
0%
How doYou know myName?🌸
100%
Ask about possession 💀
1 votes • 16 hours