and on their altars you lay your heart of stone
Never before has Aamu's world been so dark.
With eyes glazed over by the moon he walks slowly (carefully, hesitantly, blindly) sweeping what's ahead of him with a rod, but still not trusting the floor. He's got the back of one hand trailing against the wall, creeping like disease through the Temple.
He's not gone out much the past week. It's been too difficult, too uncomfortable: he's had plenty of time to get used to the idea that he's going blind, plenty of practice as the world darkened and darkened, but now that it's all pitch and tar under the fullmoon he's unnerved. Unsure. Vulnerable.
Being cursed is nothing to be ashamed of, or so he tells himself.
Slowly he makes it to the shrine at the back of the Temple. He would've liked to go to the forest again, but he hadn't been able to work up the courage to go out into the night blind and alone, and despite Isla's offers to come with him he thinks he doesn't want any witnesses to his conversation.
Carefully he lays his small bouquet of spring flowers on the altar. "Are you here?" he asks quietly of the dark.
With eyes glazed over by the moon he walks slowly (carefully, hesitantly, blindly) sweeping what's ahead of him with a rod, but still not trusting the floor. He's got the back of one hand trailing against the wall, creeping like disease through the Temple.
He's not gone out much the past week. It's been too difficult, too uncomfortable: he's had plenty of time to get used to the idea that he's going blind, plenty of practice as the world darkened and darkened, but now that it's all pitch and tar under the fullmoon he's unnerved. Unsure. Vulnerable.
Being cursed is nothing to be ashamed of, or so he tells himself.
Slowly he makes it to the shrine at the back of the Temple. He would've liked to go to the forest again, but he hadn't been able to work up the courage to go out into the night blind and alone, and despite Isla's offers to come with him he thinks he doesn't want any witnesses to his conversation.
Carefully he lays his small bouquet of spring flowers on the altar. "Are you here?" he asks quietly of the dark.
