the spyglass
I used to think that I was bold, I used to think love would be fun
Finn is at a feast.
This isn't strictly true, of course - Finn is asleep in bed with Tobi, having taken a concoction of medicine to ensure he gets a few hours of solid rest - but here in the valley of his dreams, that doesn't count.
Here the table is laden with meat, pink and glistening and bejewelled by blood and pomegranate seeds, with honey soaked vegetables and sticky buns and crackling that would melt on one's tongue in only a moment. Piles of fruit sit polished and waxy, finished by sprigs of mint and soaked by ice to keep them cool.
And at the head of the table in this warm and rustic hall, Finn sits against a chair lined by deep red velvet, his plate empty, a glass of champagne in his hand. There's an eyeball floating in his drink, but he hasn't seemed to notice just yet.
This isn't strictly true, of course - Finn is asleep in bed with Tobi, having taken a concoction of medicine to ensure he gets a few hours of solid rest - but here in the valley of his dreams, that doesn't count.
Here the table is laden with meat, pink and glistening and bejewelled by blood and pomegranate seeds, with honey soaked vegetables and sticky buns and crackling that would melt on one's tongue in only a moment. Piles of fruit sit polished and waxy, finished by sprigs of mint and soaked by ice to keep them cool.
And at the head of the table in this warm and rustic hall, Finn sits against a chair lined by deep red velvet, his plate empty, a glass of champagne in his hand. There's an eyeball floating in his drink, but he hasn't seemed to notice just yet.
now all my stories have been told; except for one
