Status Updates From Trotze der Nacht (Mondflor-...

Tessa swallows. “You remind me so much of Wes when you laugh.” Her eyes gleam. “I can’t tell who’s real and who’s the illusion.”

'mind your mettle, Tessa'
HEHEHEHEHEEHHEH

Weston’s death is different from my parents.
Weston’s death is different from them all.
I wish I’d listened. I wish we’d stayed in the workshop.

There’s a body, hanging by its neck, the head hanging crooked. The face is bloated and purple, the clothing dark.
There’s a mask across his face. A hat I know so well. A pack I’ve seen a hundred times strapped across his chest.

Without warning, he strides forward, catches my waist in both hands, then presses his mouth to mine.

“Lord, Tessa. Don’t you understand? I’m not afraid for me. I’m afraid for you.”

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH