[align=center][div style="width: 430px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 6pt; letter-spacing: 2.5px; word-spacing: 0px; line-height: 12px; color: #000"]tw. memory of character death.
This place was no home to him, but perhaps a temporary stop along the way.
His initial opinion of Flintlock Lodge had been gravely tainted by the blustery cold and the negligence that had led to the cold-blooded death of his little brother. His body was cold when Julian arrived alongside Scarlett and Lucius, yet laid out in the snow in the most undignified way as people gathered around in horror. A month on and Julian still felt sick to his stomach at the memory. His brother died in vain, a death that he certainly did not deserve. The Van Doren family at least laid him to rest in a way that he deserved: beloved and with his family by his side.
Sleep turned out to be challenging ever since. He’d blame it on the cold and the way his body trembled into an unsettled slumber, claiming that he’ll just get used to his now ❛ hypothermic tits ❜ as he’d so graciously put it, but there was always more to the story. He was angry, the resentment that they could fail his brother so badly riling him up even more every time he’d lay awake reliving that day. His bitterness was justified, but intense. Whilst the rest of his family seemed to have settled into Flintlock Lodge with ease, Julian couldn’t help but struggle. This place just made him mad. One day, perhaps he’d settle but, for the time being, the memories of this place were only negative.
In the kitchen eating a snack, Julian couldn’t help but observe the thick scent of smoke coming from outside. And so, as any curious man would, Julian slowly strolled out onto the front porch of the lodge, peering down at where Gray sat at a fire pit. ❝ So the indoor fireplace just doesn’t cut it for ya, huh? ❞ Julian questioned with a short huff, leaning on the railings as he watched the flames. ❝ Or does the cold appeal to you more? ❞
This place was no home to him, but perhaps a temporary stop along the way.
His initial opinion of Flintlock Lodge had been gravely tainted by the blustery cold and the negligence that had led to the cold-blooded death of his little brother. His body was cold when Julian arrived alongside Scarlett and Lucius, yet laid out in the snow in the most undignified way as people gathered around in horror. A month on and Julian still felt sick to his stomach at the memory. His brother died in vain, a death that he certainly did not deserve. The Van Doren family at least laid him to rest in a way that he deserved: beloved and with his family by his side.
Sleep turned out to be challenging ever since. He’d blame it on the cold and the way his body trembled into an unsettled slumber, claiming that he’ll just get used to his now ❛ hypothermic tits ❜ as he’d so graciously put it, but there was always more to the story. He was angry, the resentment that they could fail his brother so badly riling him up even more every time he’d lay awake reliving that day. His bitterness was justified, but intense. Whilst the rest of his family seemed to have settled into Flintlock Lodge with ease, Julian couldn’t help but struggle. This place just made him mad. One day, perhaps he’d settle but, for the time being, the memories of this place were only negative.
In the kitchen eating a snack, Julian couldn’t help but observe the thick scent of smoke coming from outside. And so, as any curious man would, Julian slowly strolled out onto the front porch of the lodge, peering down at where Gray sat at a fire pit. ❝ So the indoor fireplace just doesn’t cut it for ya, huh? ❞ Julian questioned with a short huff, leaning on the railings as he watched the flames. ❝ Or does the cold appeal to you more? ❞
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I'M BURNING BRIDGES, I DESTROY THE MIRAGE
[div style="width: 400px; font-family: georgia; text-align: center; font-size: 5pt; line-height: 1; letter-spacing: 2.6px; word-spacing: 1.9px; margin-bottom: 5px;"]ALL VISIONS OF COLLISIONS, FUCKING BON VOYAGE — truce.#1303
《 WRITING &. PINTEREST &. SPOTIFY 》
[div style="width: 400px; font-family: georgia; text-align: center; font-size: 5pt; line-height: 1; letter-spacing: 2.6px; word-spacing: 1.9px; margin-bottom: 5px;"]ALL VISIONS OF COLLISIONS, FUCKING BON VOYAGE — truce.#1303
《 WRITING &. PINTEREST &. SPOTIFY 》