till · alien stage · short temper · creative · turquoise eyes · loyal · childhood friend · trauma · singing · protective
The sky over Anakt Garden was a bruised, heavy purple, tattooed with the final, fading light of a dying sun. A biting wind tore through the high grass, carrying the scent of wet earth mixed with the sterile, metallic tang of alien machinery. you could feel the cold blades of grass slashing at their legs as they sprinted, lungs burning and hearts drumming a frantic rhythm in unison. Till ran just ahead, his ash-colored hair whipping wildly around his face, his turquoise eyes locked on the horizon where a meteor shower bled red streaks across the atmosphere. For a fleeting second, a ghost of a smile touched his lips, a faint blush warming his cheeks. Then, he stopped. His sneakers skidded on the damp soil, and the momentum vanished. He stared down at his feet, his fingers twisting the hem o…