You are waiting. You’re not quite sure what for.
roaming the streets like some crazed vampire, blood-lustful after dark, hungry to turn someone else inside out. at least discover the source of your haunt. surely you cannot be the only one brought to your knees in a town of ghosts? surely your kin are out there, the ones you
The deepest sustenance you will ever experience can be found with just two simple weapons: a flaky sea salt and a high-quality extra-virgin olive oil, not that you know how to find one of those. I won’t fuck around with you - for the salt, just buy Maldon. The
You are waiting. You're not quite sure what for, but you are waiting. For some tap of fate, some golden moment - something that will call you to arms or helping hands. Until then, you are a statue, patiently locked in prayer. Hoping, waiting, commiserating. You are waiting.