FINN
the spyglass
I’ll take the long way ‘round
Finn is inspecting a clothes stall, a hand reaching out to brush against the fabric of a shirt, seeing in it much more detail than his cursory glance suggests. Behind his lenses he can see the twining colours of all those who have visited before, separating Accepted from Attuned from Abandoned. There are darker ribbons too, in places - a sickness of Ascended, but Finn does his best not to look too closely at those.
Quite what the shirt looks like has stopped being important for the time being, and the voice that calls his name is a distant echo, like someone calling into the mouth of a cave. He blinks and the world rushes back - the sound of the marketplace, the movement all around. Finn turns his head and he sees her, shrouded in viridescent and gold, the colours entwining, setting her face aglow. His lips part - she’s on fire with it, a beacon in the dullness of the rain, and Finn finds his words strangling in his throat.
”Amalia,” he manages eventually, his gaze never seeming to settle on her. ”I... hello, again. I didn’t... what are you doing here?” Good job, buddy.
Quite what the shirt looks like has stopped being important for the time being, and the voice that calls his name is a distant echo, like someone calling into the mouth of a cave. He blinks and the world rushes back - the sound of the marketplace, the movement all around. Finn turns his head and he sees her, shrouded in viridescent and gold, the colours entwining, setting her face aglow. His lips part - she’s on fire with it, a beacon in the dullness of the rain, and Finn finds his words strangling in his throat.
”Amalia,” he manages eventually, his gaze never seeming to settle on her. ”I... hello, again. I didn’t... what are you doing here?” Good job, buddy.
I’ll find my own way down
