Moodboard
Dorian 🌙
Aesthetic
- Fire
- Gold
- Cold metal
- Tragedy
- Reluctance
Mood
- Main OC
- Romantic interest
- Doesn’t want to be saved
- Doesn’t need your pity or help
Song Mood
Favorite snippet thus far:
“Damn it, Dorian. What the hell is wrong with you?” Thomas said, successfully freeing his ankle from my grip.
"Quit it. I'm up, alright?" I said sternly. He swiftly got to his feet, brushing his pants.
"You know, just because you can't walk doesn't mean the rest of us shouldn't be able to," he muttered, pulling my day's clothes out of the trunk in the corner.
"Hurry," he said, chucking them at me. "You've made us both late now. Happy?" he scorned. I sat quietly in my bed, pulling my cotton shirt over my head and caught him staring at the pale scars that ran down my chest.
"Well, is it your wish to make us even more late, or do you just want a show?" I demanded. He sneered, then snatched my shoes from the floor.
"Fuck," he launched one at me. "Off," then the other. I flinched just in time for them to hit the wall behind my hammock.
"Get dressed now. Gray's going to kill us if we miss calls again," he said. I knew he was right. Gray was a bit of a fanatic and had been in a particularly shitty mood lately.
"Alright, I'll be right there," I said. I bent down to hook my feet through the cords of my make-shift bed to retrieve my shoes. I could reach them, but just barely. When I got myself back upright, Thomas was staring at me and I caught what looked like a slight pang of guilt flicker across his face.
"What?" I was sick of that. The staring, the traces of pity. Ever since I had lost the ability to control my legs, ever since the day of the accident, I was constantly met with similar looks. It was always pity or disgust and I couldn't decide which one I preferred.
"Nothing," he sounded annoyed now instead. I hurried to finish the arduous task dressing myself.
"Do you-" he hesitated. I could tell he wanted to ask something, but this morning I wasn't in the mood to pull it out of him. I instead set my mind on getting my shoes on. You'd be surprised how such a simple task could be hindered by a lack of motor function. The hardest part had been learning new ways to perform the most menial of tasks, including dressing myself.
"Do I what?" I asked struggling to get my foot to fit into my shoe. He said nothing, so I turned to focus my attention on him. I raised my brows expectantly.
"I'll be in the hall," he said simply, seeming to give up on asking whatever had been on his mind.
"Be right there," I said through gritted teeth.
-Horror Vacui, Ch.2
