thistle
Patience is a becoming trait.
Jun stumbled backwards, chocking on smoke and ash as he nearly collided into the bar stools. Discombobulated by what had just happened, there was little time to note who was in the cafe and who was outside as he suddenly clutched a hand to his chest, panting. It felt as if someone had hooked a metaphysical line deep inside him and was using that as a medium to draw energy from him. He could fill it spilling out of him slowly, and it left the shade trembling.
Holding onto fading consciousness, his feet wobbled beneath him as he made his way into the back room, collapsing on the bed.
Holding onto fading consciousness, his feet wobbled beneath him as he made his way into the back room, collapsing on the bed.