the sun goes down like a photograph
Marcus shifted in the snow, as Noah paused. He swallowed hard, but as his father sat down he didn't hesitate to cross the distance between them and sit on an adjacent log. He put the lantern down at his feet, watching the light of it flicker across the snow instead of looking up at his dad right away.
“I think… if I could become Attuned, maybe she’d still be here, just a little.” His throat tightened, and he didn't know Noah's throat was doing the same. He looked up, then, vulnerable and afraid and yet so determined and brave under the same glacier eyes he held. He stared at Noah, his father, the man he admired, eyes searching. “I want to be like you, and like Mom—Attuned. I want to visit Frey."
Her herald.
The one Noah himself had chosen, before Vi chose him. The one who had advanced his age from infant to adolescent.
His voice cracked, but he held the question out, raw and real—"Can you take me?"
“I think… if I could become Attuned, maybe she’d still be here, just a little.” His throat tightened, and he didn't know Noah's throat was doing the same. He looked up, then, vulnerable and afraid and yet so determined and brave under the same glacier eyes he held. He stared at Noah, his father, the man he admired, eyes searching. “I want to be like you, and like Mom—Attuned. I want to visit Frey."
Her herald.
The one Noah himself had chosen, before Vi chose him. The one who had advanced his age from infant to adolescent.
His voice cracked, but he held the question out, raw and real—"Can you take me?"
you try to stop time in the aftermath
