memory’s so treacherous
”A hawk?” Finn doesn’t sound surprised in the slightest, and perhaps there’s a small smile curling over his lips as he bends to his task. ”So it is based almost on your inner nature then?” he muses, collecting up a few hefty rocks and setting them aside to pin down the webbing when he’s ready for it. He’s aware of the eyes on him, of Remi’s watchful analysis of his work, though he can’t quite put together why.
There are callouses on Finn’s hands, but they are all on his fingertips, and they do little to help with the current situation. Still, there’s a strength in the way he moves, a resignation to each lift and pull, to fighting with the netting and wrangling it in place with sure, firm movements. There’s a calmness in it, a patience, and as he steps back with a fine coating of sand on his clothes and skin, he wipes at his forehead with the back of his hand to examine the work thus far.
Shirt clinging to the contours of his body from the downpour, water dripping from his curls, he takes a moment to catch his breath. ”Got another?” he asks Remi eventually, glancing over his shoulder, uncomplaining.
There are callouses on Finn’s hands, but they are all on his fingertips, and they do little to help with the current situation. Still, there’s a strength in the way he moves, a resignation to each lift and pull, to fighting with the netting and wrangling it in place with sure, firm movements. There’s a calmness in it, a patience, and as he steps back with a fine coating of sand on his clothes and skin, he wipes at his forehead with the back of his hand to examine the work thus far.
Shirt clinging to the contours of his body from the downpour, water dripping from his curls, he takes a moment to catch his breath. ”Got another?” he asks Remi eventually, glancing over his shoulder, uncomplaining.
one moment you’re lost in a carnival of delights
the next, it leads you somewhere you don’t want to go
FINN
