"You should be dead," Oliver replied, watching her as if betrayed by how alive she was, when the real betrayals had happened before her return to life. Hers of him, and his of her. Forget-me-nots everywhere, the red of her blood staining them, and his hand went to the locket he wore under his shirt, the locket that never left him.
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zvi
no subject
Date: 2016-08-03 11:34 pm (UTC)