Midas is king and he holds me so tight
There's things he ought to be thinking about: things he ought to be feeling, sounding out, teasing into the shape of the whole.But he can't. Not now. Not yet, when the Hollowed Grounds are still rubble, a ruin, a grave. Aamu has sifted through it, has touched curled and burnt fingers, smashed skulls, witnessed the multitudes of scorched and charred tech.
The truth is this: he can't face it yet.
The words die on his lips, turn to dust in his soul, flee the focus of his mind.
He needs escape, as he stands amid the devastation of the Grounds. Mabel is there, with him, and as the darkness deepens around them he turns to glance at her. "We still have our shifts," he muses quietly.
There had been no need of a dragon during the darkness. He cannot properly put into words how it all turned out to be not at all what he had expected, for nothing can adequately describe how he feels: desolate, heartbroken, forlorn. Cowardly. Filthy.
There had been no need of a dragon during the darkness, but Aamu needs one now.
His body begins to change.
For Mabel <3
and turns me to gold in the sunlight
Aamu
