Date: 2013-09-16 06:05 am (UTC)
makingsouffles: (❋ sell my sorry soul)
[Oswin clings back twice as hard, holding onto him for dear life and curling her fingers in the back of his blood-stained jacket. She doesn't even care that it's her blood, they're going to be okay. All three of them.

Finally, she's able to unclasp one hand from the fabric of his jacket, running it softly through his hair.]
...Sorry to scare you.
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staircasetotheclouds

December 2013

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