He paused, glancing back at Void Archives as he ruminated on the memory. It had been so faint he almost hadn't heard it, the lone syllable limned in violet terror. He wouldn't quite meet Sunday's gaze when he looked back to him, eyes peeled to a sickly yellow-green and jaw set as if waiting for The hangman's noose. "Archives," Sunday began. "Does... does the name Otto mean anything to you?" He froze. Trembled. Void Archives crumpled in on himself, the aether heavy with the weight of centuries, tasting of hemlock and grapes rotted on the vine.
A preview snippet of his eyes were made of starlight, chapter 9: #sunwelt #weltday #sundayhsr #voidarchives