[ ... well, that's. Accurate, actually. So much so that his lips purse slightly as he keeps on with what he's doing, though he doesn't slow or stop. He does need to be kept busy, right now more than ever, right now when he's in so much pain that it hurts even to turn his head. The noise of life claws at him; he hears the thrumming pulse of everyone near him, feels it like a war drum in his chest. He wants to grasp and choke; he wants to rip and tear.
But he also does not want those things.
So he works, though TF's own warm beating heart is a siren in Koltira's ears. ]
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But he also does not want those things.
So he works, though TF's own warm beating heart is a siren in Koltira's ears. ]
... I am.
Be glad of it.