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    Ask anyone a question containing the words “Will” and “love,” and they’d guess that he loves quietly, gracefully; that he’d bunch a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a box of chocolates in the other, extending both of them out toward the object of his affections with a soft smile.

    They are wrong.

    Because Will loves Strohl – he’s said so many, many times at this point, and Strohl would be a fool not to just believe him already – and this? This is not, by any meaning of the word, quiet.

    The clemars are a mighty tribe, commanding respect. The clemars are stuck in their ways, blindly following tradition. Strohl is a clemar, and while he’ll never be the one to fling insults on the basis of one’s tribe, sometimes he can’t help but think it would’ve been better if he wasn’t. For Will.

    or: will, strohl, and the guilt of association.

    Language:
    English
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    02 Nov 2024