awareness is the enemy of sanity
”No one really has. Seen, but not asked about them.” Finn takes another generous sip of whisky, the heat blooming in his chest and throat. Already in a sorry state (and then some), he can already feel it hazing his mind, an altogether too pleasant feeling. ”I volunteered it,” he adds, as though just realising it himself - and that sends a curl of discomfort right through his core.
Opening his eyes again, he exhales shakily, looking down at the bright white bandages covering his torso. ”Yeah, a crust. Working girls. They were kind to me, mostly,” he mumbles, blinking a few times to stop the world from swimming. Remi’s voice draws his eyes up again, Finn scowling at the face that mirrors his own so well. He wonders if they looked the same when they were younger, too - if the silk houses would have liked to get their teeth into Remi.
”It’s worse,” he promises him. ”Whatever you imagine, it’s worse.” He finishes his whiskey. ”Your tea will get cold.”
Opening his eyes again, he exhales shakily, looking down at the bright white bandages covering his torso. ”Yeah, a crust. Working girls. They were kind to me, mostly,” he mumbles, blinking a few times to stop the world from swimming. Remi’s voice draws his eyes up again, Finn scowling at the face that mirrors his own so well. He wonders if they looked the same when they were younger, too - if the silk houses would have liked to get their teeth into Remi.
”It’s worse,” he promises him. ”Whatever you imagine, it’s worse.” He finishes his whiskey. ”Your tea will get cold.”
for once you hear the screaming
it never stops
FINN
