[the mothlings' antennae tremble, and their bodies too, like they're receiving some incoming message. and then they push back against hunter again, gentle but insistent. and in hunter's mind, a real-time montage: sungki in the bathroom, a gallon of bleach, bloody water being wrung out of a sponge and streaking down his face as he focuses on his work.
and then he's back again, the mothlings retreating behind him until they vanish and take flight to circle around the lightbulb. the fae's face is still stained with drying streaks, and his previously white shirt is now a disgusting shade of muddy red. sungki peels it off over his head and gives it a toss into the corner, sighing before he turns to observe them.]
no subject
and then he's back again, the mothlings retreating behind him until they vanish and take flight to circle around the lightbulb. the fae's face is still stained with drying streaks, and his previously white shirt is now a disgusting shade of muddy red. sungki peels it off over his head and gives it a toss into the corner, sighing before he turns to observe them.]
Which one of you wants to buy me a new shirt?