a [j]ug fills drop by drop
#3
my dad is listening to crappy music, so i can't do anything but ragequit atm... sorry D: FFFUUU SO ANNOYING


So accustomed, too reliant on being invited into the growlery of even the most inhospitable, Kafka was anticipating a smooth welcoming.

But to the man who greeted him on horseback, he still bowed his head as a pauper to a prince, remembering how he had seen beggars bow to kings in the same way they bowed their heads over wastebaskets full of fire, trying to keep warm. “My name is Kafka,” and he explained himself with only two syllables, and as if the phonemes carried purpose in their resonance.

Unlike the befeathered chief, he stood on his own four feet, feral form particularly tall and perpetually disheveled by travel. Motivated by a romantic idea of belonging and community, he wouldn't draw further onto their territory without being invited.


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