Weaver of Shadows

Edgar sat alone. Again. He looked over at his brothers and sisters, saying together, joking, laughing, being together. He’d tried being with them, and he could, but he hated who he pretended to be when he was with them. But…well, would sitting with them be better than this loneliness he felt sitting alone. I wish one of them would invite me over. That they’d show they care, that they want me there. It won’t happen though, I’ve been here much too long to keep wishing. Ever since Kylee had died…well, he’d never had another close friend. He looked around at all the campers. He knew a good half of them fairly well, he could call a lot of them friends, but it just wasn’t the same. He wished he had someone to count on. I miss you Kylee. He felt his Gift shift in his hand, becoming a soon as he started eating the soup in front of him. Alone another night, it seemed.

Freaky, which is what I assume you are going for.

I will be a killer. I must be a killer. I can kill people. I will kill people. I will win. People will remember my name, they will love me, they will fear me, they will know who I am.

Favorite class in DnD?

He gently rubbed his thumb across her cheek. “So, I don’t think I’ve asked you this, what’s a hobby of yours?”

He cupped her cheek. “Try not to move too much, I don’t want you hurting anymore if you can help it.”

He smiled at her.

“Really?”

“That’s good, I don’t want anyone else…”

“I love you too. Thank you for being who you are.”

“Good.” He kissed her quickly again.

He leaned forward, putting his forehead against hers. “Are you happy?”

“You know, the way you smile…it makes me want to kiss you again…”

What’s your favorite breakfast food? Favorite RP? Favorite RP character?

He smiled broadly, feeling giddy. “I don’t think you have.”

Kiss her again. He did, another quick kiss.

“I like your smile, have I told you that?”

“Is that helping?” he whispered.

He wrapped his own hands through her hair, then pulled her closer to him.

He gently turned her head towards his and kissed her.

“Can I help with that?”

“So, in a way, it’s a good thing. About your memories…well, I’m not sure what to do about them, sorry. But…well, they’re the past, right?”

He rubbed her arm gently. “Please, don’t be mad at yourself, there’s nothing you more you can do about being hurt. And…well, it lets us be together, like this, doesn’t it? It makes us less busy, we have more time together?”