BRICK AND MORTOR —

[Whisper]

another small single banner use; this time i found a cute little mushroom gif banner by bionic bandit this creater especially has a lot of amazing banners you can use - so i do reccomend a look-see, if nothing else. it surly sparks at the inspiration if nothin' else. but other than that - on to the dummy text!

dummy text  — blood snow ; something soft fills the air does not mean it is necessary innocent in nature. Snow brings cold, that only in death someone can escape from - finally warm; blood clotting and stained in perfect white. Childhood tales warn you not to near, not to taste. Temptation wears thin your sense, and between childish foolishness and the own internal pressure building inside your psyche- you admit defeat. the taste of death is not overwhelmingly unpleasant, but the sharp tang of it has you first recoiling- first to flee. even if the corpse was freezing the the same ice that trapped it's life, you do not falter. determination pools into your bones, and you bend down again, stance widened, you lean down once more. you're reasoning with yourself now, the taste is not addicting (but it could be, you see the appeal) but you can't quite figure it out. The taste isn't something familiar, or maybe it is. The description floats on the edge of your tongue before it leaves again. It leaves you empty, hollow in a way you cannot understand. you have this need to pin it down, instincts securing the kill- the taste until it is a sear in your memory. another bite couldn't hurt (could it?). blood seeps further, and suddenly you realist the body you have neared is still alive, still breathing. something is there, under your skin. it bleeds into your blood like molten iron and ice blended perfectly, it frazzles your brain. adrenaline makes your decision sluggish, but the reaction instant. the struggle is nothing, one moment you are innocent, and the next your not. simple curiosity has made this, no that's not quite right- fear made this. fear curls into foggy eyes and writhe. Snow crunches under the body; struggling to get a hold, the only sound beside the quite of the scene. (the sound of snow is deafening; it's all you've known). your close enough to the throat to feel the pulls fade. the thrum of it rattles through your teeth as you clamp down desperately. you cannot see properly, despite the angle but you know. know that this animal is dying, that his eyes are fogging over and that between the bitter cold- warmth fills him finally from the entrance of your teeth. It is not a poi