*is something between a boy and a man, all in shades of gold and brown, mocha-rich skin, ginger-light hair, distracted eyes like autumn moons floating in a fixed sky. his expression is pointed to a smirk, a wry, constant crescent, and sprawled disheveled across the floor, he strikes a match and stares into it, fascinated
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Typist: *squeals incoherently* ZOMG ETERNAL WRECK LOVE. *flails*
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*stands up, and starts to back up away, striking the match aflame* you must sing a-down a-down, and you call him a-down-a ...
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i could teach you how to hear the moon ... *smiles, softly* but that wouldn't be very kind of me, would it?
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