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all that blood was never once beautiful. it was just red.
kait rokowski
SPLIT KNUCKLES AND bruised shins chip away at Io's resolve. The line between protection and punishment thins as her skin cracks and tears. Misha thinks she's obsessive, but Io would never let herself follow her brother's path— No, it's not obsession that clouds her eyes from seeing her impending ruin. It's not a need for control that makes her volunteer. Not bloodlust that consumes her, nor starvation that depletes her. Io's godhood is a result of her devotion. Blood transforms to ichor, and now, Io is ready to bear her brother's burden.
