this is the truth: you’ve died, but you are not dead. this puts you in something of an unusual position—though it is not unique. the other also knows this state.
still, you know some of what would be placed in your reliquary:
half a necklace, dredged from the sea.
a pencil from the floorboards; a worn-down nub of eraser.
bloodied sketchbooks and red-purple skies.
the scent of mulberries.
thank you for requesting this novella!! it's not what i matched on and i was not planning to write for it but then i got curious, and, well... an hour and a half later...
it's so cool i love it
thanks for introducing it to me lmao, hope u like the little fic too
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