memory’s so treacherous
”Banging... against the floorboards...?” Finn doesn’t get it, and it couldn’t be more obvious; the Spyglass squints at her as he tries to follow her movements to get her bag and bring it over. His hand is throbbing already, an ache spreading deeply up the length of his left arm, and as she leans down beside him, he gives her a wobbly smile that he hopes doesn’t completely betray his anxiety. ”You could make anything fun,” he grates out.
Finn’s wrong, though, and as Tobi reaches out to set his hand and his fingers, he arches off the wall, biting back a scream and having to remind himself to breathe. His right hand shoots out to grasp hold of his left forearm, having to hold it and brace it in place for her. It feels like it takes years for her to bandage him up, by which time he’s probably ruined another shirt by sweating through it, and has undone all the work that the shower did for him.
Then there’s a voice, distant but recognisable, and Finn cranes his head to try and find the source of it. ”Falke...?” His voice is hoarse, and he doesn’t sound all there anymore. (As if he did in the first place, under these circumstances).
Finn’s wrong, though, and as Tobi reaches out to set his hand and his fingers, he arches off the wall, biting back a scream and having to remind himself to breathe. His right hand shoots out to grasp hold of his left forearm, having to hold it and brace it in place for her. It feels like it takes years for her to bandage him up, by which time he’s probably ruined another shirt by sweating through it, and has undone all the work that the shower did for him.
Then there’s a voice, distant but recognisable, and Finn cranes his head to try and find the source of it. ”Falke...?” His voice is hoarse, and he doesn’t sound all there anymore. (As if he did in the first place, under these circumstances).
one moment you’re lost in a carnival of delights
the next, it leads you somewhere you don’t want to go
FINN
