i have died everyday waiting for you
The air stills—not in silence, but in reverence. Between the breeze and the hush of the tide, the edge of the world bends just slightly, and the golden light of Mort’s realm spills forth like morning breaking through the trees. It parts the shadows gently, the towering silhouettes of sky-high trunks briefly glimpsed in the shimmer before the veil seals again, leaving only the warmth of something eternal behind.
Barefoot, boyish, and aglow with that familiar quiet joy, Mort steps onto the sand.
He says nothing at first, instead, he sinks down beside Remi with the ease of a dear friend returning home, his presence folding into the moment like it had always belonged there. One hand reaches out, fingers brushing grit and damp before settling affectionately on Remi’s shoulder.
"You’ve done well," he says, voice low and luminous, every word stitched through with pride. The squeeze he gives is firm, warm, grounding. "How was revisting your past?"
Barefoot, boyish, and aglow with that familiar quiet joy, Mort steps onto the sand.
He says nothing at first, instead, he sinks down beside Remi with the ease of a dear friend returning home, his presence folding into the moment like it had always belonged there. One hand reaches out, fingers brushing grit and damp before settling affectionately on Remi’s shoulder.
"You’ve done well," he says, voice low and luminous, every word stitched through with pride. The squeeze he gives is firm, warm, grounding. "How was revisting your past?"
