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chandlerhinton.bsky.social
Bue isn't used to softness.
But he notices when it shows up.

#WIPSnips #WriteSky #FoundFamily #DarkFantasy #QueerWIP #BoysWithFeelings #THREADWALKER
As they passed through into a pasture filled with stakes wrapped in the dry remnants of grapevines, snarling around them. In front of them, a good-sized villa sat, with a large balcony overlooking the vineyard. “You grew up here?” Bue asked. The sheer size of the property is his as they began the long trek down the central stone brick path—their boots kicking up the moss and weeds which sprang up in the cracks. “Born and raised,” he said. “I spent every summer picking grapes and racking bottles of different shades.” “Do you guys actually crush the wine with your feet?” Bue asked, indulging his youthful curiosity. “The ceremonial wine, yes,” he said. “Most of it gets processed in machines, though.” “Huh,” Bue said. This was a different side of Teorin that Imara never seemed to be in the right place at the right time to witness. After several more minutes of walking, they finally reached the house. Teorin groaned as he grasped the doorknob. It turned with little effort, allowing them into the dusty interior. Upon entering, the dark room was illuminated by the lantern. To one side sat a sitting room with several lush chaises and ottomans, caked in time. The other led to an elaborate dining room and kitchen. “It’s very open,” Bue said, looking at the solid wooden columns that supported the roof in the absence of walls. Looking even further down, he could see a hallway that he assumed led to bedrooms. “My parents liked to see everything at once,” he said, a tiny bit of laughter in the statement. “Privacy was an illusion with them."
June 27, 2025 at 5:09 PM