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cicatrixinteractive · 3 years
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clap your hands if you’re indecisive over what medium to share your stories 
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cicatrixinteractive · 3 years
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And back to that sad shit. This is a little passage buried in a choice.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
There’s something about ${?_his} touch that feels so familiar. The slow slide of ${?_his} fingers across the skin beneath your eye makes your chest constrict and your throat close up. You’d think you’d be panicking, maybe angry or more likely disgusted by this strange ${?_man}’s seeming familiarity. But you just feel a deep seated sense of…
Of loss.
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cicatrixinteractive · 3 years
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I’m loving the dynamic between this guy and a sarcastic MC.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“Well!” ${?_he} announces, a little too loud for comfort. “This has been an enlightening experience as I’m sure you’ll agree, but I have things to do.”
  *if sarcastic > 25
    “What, like hijacking vans and shooting people?”
    $!{?_he} laughs, “exactly.”
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cicatrixinteractive · 3 years
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It’s going to be a while before I finish finalizing this blog and set up a proper posting schedule. Focusing more on creating actual content than moderating my social media, but I’ll be starting to post some small snippets of what I’m working on in the mean time to give people a taste of what’s going on behind the scenes. 
So first up, a snippet of the scene ‘wish’ from the prologue of the current IF in progress, Wires.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Knowledge of this ${?_man} -an Aecor, you think. Aquatic species rather despised for their chaotic tendencies-  swims in and out of your mind, though you have no recollection of knowing ${?_him} in the waking world, nor a name to put to the face.
Another memory, you suppose. Another loss.
“You ever wish you could actually do something about it?”
You feel your gaze drag back to ${?_his} face, chartreuse eyes now turned towards you.
“What do you mean?”
$!{?_he} flaps ${?_his} hand behind ${?_him}, towards the neon city lights. The sudden sound of gunfire in the distance makes ${?_his} meaning clear. Neither of you flinch.
“The city,” ${?_he} says, hand coming rest in ${?_his} lap. “The world.”
There’s a longing in ${?_his} voice you’re not all together unfamiliar with. A pain years old that’s festered into something you see often in the people of Pate. See in your own eyes, more often than not.
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