bonesxii_

A missive falls into the young man's hands, passed to him from a friend of a friend. The chair underneath him creaks with his weight as he sits, the gentle tap of his heel against hardwood floors echoes throughout his tiny home. A place that harbors dark secrets with hushed whispers nestled in the cracks of the walls. Sariel's eyes squints as he reads the missive over, and over, and over again until the words become nothing more than a jumbled mess. "Hypocrisy in its purest form," he muses. He never had high standards for Yera, he never thought fondly of her; something hides behind her reserved, quiet persona. He was certain of that. Steadily, he folds the missive, pressing the creases tightly to sneak it between the glass bottles that sit in his cupboards. "What a shame." The words leave his lips, drawn out and slow.