I will not be great, but I'm grateful to get through
Everest tilts his head slightly at her reassurance, the corner of his mouth tugging upward with faint skepticism. "There are many magics and narcotics capable of rendering a person silent," he reminds her mildly, though he isn't able to elaborate further as the world begins to scream.
The sound slices through the rain like metal tearing, high and violent enough that it seems to scrape along the inside of his skull. At the same instant the lightning splits the sky, a jagged fork that burns white-hot through the balcony doors and leaves a searing imprint across his vision. Everest turns instinctively toward the window just as the rain outside begins to shriek.
He spins back immediately, eyes wide, every nerve in his body firing at once and without thinking, he steps forward, placing himself squarely between Isla and the open balcony, as though his body might somehow intercept whatever madness the storm has decided to become. One arm comes up around her shoulders, pulling her in against his side as the scream of the rain dies as abruptly as it began. Everest exhales hard through his nose, his heart still hammering violently in his chest. Behind them Fern wails in the bassinet, adding her own outraged protest to the aftermath.
He looks down at Isla, shaking his head once. "I don't know," he says honestly, and after a moment, he releases her long enough to stride to the sliding doors. The curtains are drawn closed with a sharp, decisive swish, as though fabric might serve as a barrier against whatever else the sky has planned. He stands there for a moment, shoulders still tight, then glances back toward her with a small wince. "I know we have discussed this before," he says carefully, "but perhaps we should revisit the possibility of moving." Somewhere where imagined thieves couldn't run away with Isla and Fern and where the sky didn't scream at them.
The sound slices through the rain like metal tearing, high and violent enough that it seems to scrape along the inside of his skull. At the same instant the lightning splits the sky, a jagged fork that burns white-hot through the balcony doors and leaves a searing imprint across his vision. Everest turns instinctively toward the window just as the rain outside begins to shriek.
He spins back immediately, eyes wide, every nerve in his body firing at once and without thinking, he steps forward, placing himself squarely between Isla and the open balcony, as though his body might somehow intercept whatever madness the storm has decided to become. One arm comes up around her shoulders, pulling her in against his side as the scream of the rain dies as abruptly as it began. Everest exhales hard through his nose, his heart still hammering violently in his chest. Behind them Fern wails in the bassinet, adding her own outraged protest to the aftermath.
He looks down at Isla, shaking his head once. "I don't know," he says honestly, and after a moment, he releases her long enough to stride to the sliding doors. The curtains are drawn closed with a sharp, decisive swish, as though fabric might serve as a barrier against whatever else the sky has planned. He stands there for a moment, shoulders still tight, then glances back toward her with a small wince. "I know we have discussed this before," he says carefully, "but perhaps we should revisit the possibility of moving." Somewhere where imagined thieves couldn't run away with Isla and Fern and where the sky didn't scream at them.
