memory’s so treacherous
”The muscles in my hand are quite alright, thank you,” Finn says, his stormy gaze flat and quietly entertained, though by the sheen of sweat already on his brow, it’s probably best that they get moving sooner rather than later. ”Though I’ll admit, in the past season or two I’ve had very little time. For writing. And playing guitar.” Is he smirking a bit as he heads back to the lower level of his rooms, a hand firmly on the bannister? Maybe.
All thought of their shared joke vanishes like smoke as his mind tries to fill the blanks in his memory with thoughts of Amalia. Of her arms around him, of the taste of her lips, the sucking void of the world beyond the world. ”I fell off the bed,” he mumbles, as if just remembering. ”We were sailing... she came to visit me.” Or had he visited her? ”I played her a song...” Sickness makes the separate occasions melt together, Finn pausing at the door.
He freezes, fingers clenching on the handle at the knowledge that she might be coming here. ”Do you know when?” he asks.
All thought of their shared joke vanishes like smoke as his mind tries to fill the blanks in his memory with thoughts of Amalia. Of her arms around him, of the taste of her lips, the sucking void of the world beyond the world. ”I fell off the bed,” he mumbles, as if just remembering. ”We were sailing... she came to visit me.” Or had he visited her? ”I played her a song...” Sickness makes the separate occasions melt together, Finn pausing at the door.
He freezes, fingers clenching on the handle at the knowledge that she might be coming here. ”Do you know when?” he asks.
one moment you’re lost in a carnival of delights
the next, it leads you somewhere you don’t want to go
FINN
