Burden knows that in life, one must (tithe) wrote in repose,
In-person: Misha B/Damian W
[Misha, he waited a few seconds, and then he reasoned that going where Damian is weren't as bad as dragging the boy where he is. It took a few seconds longer than it ought, and he dropped his coffin nails as he walked barefoot from the kitchen to the bed. His skin was red and chafed and cold, on account of being dressed real ridiculous for going outside, and he propped a knee on the bed and knelt over the boy there, scooping him up if he could.] Quit- Quit- Stop that. [His voice was still slow as molasses in winter, but his nose was red and snotty, and his cheeks had dried tears caked on.] You listen to me- [He crowded Damian on that bed.] I can't- I need to know me being not okay won't hurt you. Do you understand? I can't have it hurt you. I can't have you hurt yourself on account of me.