(don't be fooled by the cover the drawings in this are random doodles)
Soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
this is my first book im sensitive anyways, description:
Azrael's family has always gone through bad things like tragedy and poverty and stuff l...
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Azrael, Pre Colonial Philippines, 1040, Midnight...
That night was never the same.
Milo ruined it.
...
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Azrael, Pre Colonial Philippines, 1040, alas, morning!
They fall out of their sweet slumber, seeking heavy sweat to terminate the snug beauty of the sun's elegance; the welcoming scent of bread, the easeful scenery before them, all of it is a stranger.
Their head is full of air, the heart is displeased.
...
A boy in a dull-colored dress enters their location with a dopey grin and a bowl, "Hey Az, how're you doing?"
Azrael panics; this all must be a dream, a manipulation tactic of some kind.
"Hey, hey," He adjusts his clothing, nestling the meal along the spotless wood floor, "calm down, calm down," the boy turns his gaze at them, shoulders sinking and a smile forming his face, quite depressive, "I'm sorry for the thing I said last night, you couldn't've had that happen to you."
"Wh..."
"It's noon," he wipes something vague off his facade, picking himself up and strolling to the door, "you don't usually wake up at that time, not that we're disgusted or surprised." He enters the threshold where Azrael sees partial of him, hesitant to step, "I'm sorry- again."
The door swings into the doorframe gradually, inaugurating Azrael's trance with the accompaniment of a bowl.
Birds fly across the village occupied with their companions, supper chefs announce their dishes, the sun gradually changes its angle, the cerulean sky melting to indigo.
The child piques over the bowl and its smoke tattering, whipping their eyes at the insects creeping in the room; they fall off the bed, distress out of their reach, and they accept the homely aesthetic.
...
Azrael, Pre Colonial Philippines, 1040, good evening.
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