You are the night-time fear
He gets the impression she does not like his theory, or the tree itself; he thinks of how she first regarded it, wary, jagged, a sinister, creeping predator advancing on the hapless sapling. She steps back, and Aamu lets his gaze linger on the young boughs. He doesn't know what it's for, but he finds it in his heart to humor its existence.But unless he wants to tickle it for hours on end, make it dance and laugh for the passersby, it has no more to offer him right now. He turns away from it ever so slightly.
How, indeed?
He could just repeat himself: The Voice. He doesn't understand it himself, but he suspects that's mostly because of the state she found him in. He searches his mind, he searches his soul, but he finds no answers, and no truth dawns, bright and euphoric, on him. "I don't know," he finally says, quiet. "All I know, is that it was her doing."
Or perhaps his long torpor had blurred the lines between life and death for his spirit already, and she merely capitalized on that.
Again, he thinks not.
But he can be wrong: he is, just then. She confesses to having a sister, implied to be blood, or close as blood, anyway. But if she is here, then why does she look so much like storm-tossed driftwood, neglected and unwanted? Where is the care—the love, the joy of reunion? Or perhaps she has not found her yet. It's only been days, hasn't it?
Damn, but he hates the fog lingering in his mind. "I'm sorry. Where is she?" he asks, as if it's somehow more interesting than who she is. Carefully, he guesses they're both Ascended, and that could explain a lot.
Then the question is turned back on him, and his eyes narrow.
I don't know.
He guesses there will be much heartache; he knows there will be oceans of grief. He just doesn't remember who to mourn yet. "I suspect not," he says carefully, too light, as if the words are fragile and would break if handled too roughly. He does not want to linger there, on that perilous slope where the starlight cuts too bright and mercilessly, so he forges on. "Is there an inn around here?"
You are the morning when it's clear
AAMU
