96% Gibbon

i am tired. the moon waxes as i wane and, in typical fashion, every karmic hailstone that is scheduled decides to fall in this moment. annoying, the regularity of it all.

Lost Pages, the Diary of Hera

there’s a reason no one ever talks about how we met. so gauche to speak of the trysting of gods. some suitable telling of cyclic means, conveniently amnesiac for the before of the before of the before. it started when we said it did, of course. would you raise the ire of a god to question it? i thought not. so.