betrayal ages like fine wine [olalla]

[JORMUNGAND Di ANGELO]

JORMUNGAND

male — the Pitt — bio — pinterest board

[div style="background-color: #292727; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-align: justify; overflow: auto; width: 500px; height: 340px; padding: 10px;"]

OC TEXT


IC TEXT | IC opinions only

he was bored. he missed the fun olalla, him and blackjack used to have. speaking of, blackjack was gone and olalla's health had gone to shit and jormungand hadn't seen him in what felt like aeons. he missed their friendship, and he wanted to rekindle that. at least be nice to his daughter's not-boyfriend.

fuck health, wine solved everything, the italian mused to himself as he dug through bottles upon bottles. pulling out a finely aged bottle of red, he carefully wrapped it in a little pouch and made his way out of his house. picking up bits of paper and matches along the way he tossed them in the pouch and left his house. blinking against the sun to regain his senses for navigaton, he dug deep in his memory to remember how to get to olalla's place.

once at his doorstep the panther bonked his skull against the ardent's door, then slapped it a few times. "ay, olalla, i have some things we can do. we will do. we will be doing right this instant." yes, they would be doing exactly that this instant, jormungand insisted, mentally stamping his foot. it was about time they had fun again, they used to be drinking buddies.

#psychosocial.