Nights in Kazdel are rough. Too rough, sometimes.
The winds blow, devils creep about, houndbeasts scour the sour terrain in search of a sleeping moron to tear apart. A real bummer, some would say.
Thank the gods for a technological wonder, Babel's fancy-shmancy landship.
Nights spent beneath the metal ribcage are a great alternative to being mauled alive in the cold. But sometimes, even the peaceful solace of four walls and a roof proves too little to truly put the mind at ease. On one such night, the snarky Contemporary Operator W and her inseparable companion, Contemporary Operator Ricketts, find themselves snuggled in bed, dazed by the nightly influence on their sleep-deprived brains.
Dams come undone, bursting with unvoiced feelings and bottled up emotions, topped by a silver lining of a lethal amount of warmth.
Even on the coldest of Kazdelian nights, Rhodes Island teems with heat produced by the two - and the words their lips push onward.
Words neither of them expected to ever say out loud.
A little one shot related to my other piece, "No Life 'Til Leather." Enjoy ! (cant be asked to make a proper cover lmao, enjoy this shitty one)
I was just trying help but i got stab and then lost consision. I woke up and realized that my body had changed
and now I look like Dante from the limbus company and I forgot my real name well... it's time to find out what kind of world this is and.......oh... this is a date a live world..... well, i *everyone can only hear the sounds of the clock*
This is my first story here so expect grammatical errors in the text because English is not my primary language.And everything that I use here belongs to the copyright holders who own it