It doesn't matter how good the evening. It doesn't matter how high the dose. And it doesn't matter how good Finn is getting at taking care of himself - when the nightmares come, they come. So it is that Doctor Hart sends him up to bed with his medicine only shortly after eight in the evening; by midnight, Finn has rocketed out of bed in a cold sweat. Unable to take the confines of his apartment (unusual by his standards, but since a certain alchemist visited that's just the way it is), he pulls on a sweater and shoes and pads out into the corridors of the Tower.
Feeling like he's wandering the passageways of some haunted mansion, Finn shuffles through darkness that's punctuated every now and then by lamplight and the ghostly illumation of the blizzard outside. And it really is a blizzard, the Spyglass unable to see anything beyond the panes of glass. Quite where he's walking he doesn't know, but his thoughts are thorny and tangled and his hands are wedged in his pockets, clinking the keys to his rooms as he shuffles his way around.
Feeling like he's wandering the passageways of some haunted mansion, Finn shuffles through darkness that's punctuated every now and then by lamplight and the ghostly illumation of the blizzard outside. And it really is a blizzard, the Spyglass unable to see anything beyond the panes of glass. Quite where he's walking he doesn't know, but his thoughts are thorny and tangled and his hands are wedged in his pockets, clinking the keys to his rooms as he shuffles his way around.
