Date: 2020-08-24 09:27 am (UTC)
wythersake: (pic#14248230)
From: [personal profile] wythersake
"Hold on, then."

He comes up at last with an apple: Small and red, and unremarkable. Look, Says the flourish of his hand, Dinner and a show.

For a moment, nothing much happens. Another, and his fingers shift, dig into flesh. It's soft. Juice bursts mealy upon his palm, and the air tastes briefly of nectar; a cider tang. The apple-skin bruises — brown-purple-black — freckles into new rot. Something's gone off. Sour, cadaverous.

Isaac's fist closes about the shriveled mass. White fur sprouts from between the line of his knuckles, collapses in that last squelch of rancid pulp. If one of them will make a secret of mending, well,

"There's a handkerchief on the bench."

Please and thank you.
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