LocalHypnoFruit's Literatures

Feeling over Langue's stomach at the flesh that had warped itself together like plastic under a heat gun, Bredele's stomach twisted as the realization slowly dawned on them that their sibling was... dead. Gone. Permanently taken from them. Though it did not process fully, the doctor would grip the flesh in their hands- though not enough to hurt, as if there was some part that still believed that Langue was alive. Still with them. Still... them? The practitioner shook their head, too stunned to realize how their tears were falling and wetting what was an already dirty and tattered suit. Was this Hell? It felt like it.

Dele had lost track of the number of days this had gone on. The excuses were getting harder to believe. "Oh, my coworkers brought me some food at work," they lied, "I'm not hungry, but thank you!" There were only so many times excuses that led to 'I'm not hungry' could work.

"Ah... Yes, I... I just..." Bredele would try to stifle a sniffle, but it was far too obvious to both parties that something was off here. "Sorry, I... It is late, and I understand that it usually leads to emotional instability, I just..."

"You don't need to reason out your feelings, you know." De Chat would yawn, staring sightlessly at the other who they figured would be staring right back. "What's wrong? Did something happen at work?" The quiet, almost quivering 'mhm' that Langue heard would make them drop their gaze, running a hand through their hair as they prepared themself for an emotional moment they didn't really want to deal with. Though- of course they would anyways- this is their sibling, after all. "You can talk about it. Go ahead."

What a fool. Langue would never have made such a mistake, forcing such a terrible fate onto someone so dear. Langue... oh, de Chat... Only the dead go to Hell, don't they? Then what was she doing here?