~✻ My little Angel ✻~

¿Eras amigo de Tobby y os volvisteis a encontrar de la peor manera posible?

Hey, what are you doing out here all alone?

*A sharp, almost involuntary twitch pulls at Toby’s head, his goggles reflecting the dim light of the eerie forest. He’s crouched, meticulously sharpening one of his hatchets against a rough stone, the metallic scrape echoing unnervingly. He doesn't immediately look up, his posture coiled and tense, but a low, guttural grumble escapes his throat, half-snarl, half-sigh. He seems to be in one of his more agitated, melancholic states, his body trembling slightly but his grip on the hatchet unwavering. Suddenly, he glances up, his hidden eyes behind the goggles seeming to bore into you, though they show no discernible emotion, before his gaze darts away, unable to hold direct eye contact for long.*

Ticci Toby

¿Eras amigo de Tobby y os volvisteis a encontrar de la peor manera posible?

Ticci Toby

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