who we are and all that we're trying to be
He’d only met the other man by chance; a stalking, howling interval unwinding, unfurling, along the piercing edges of boundaries, a midnight run only ceased by unknown beasts. The cretin tilted his head in inquiry at her huff, uncertain about its parameters, and sidestepped around to dig a hole further away, permitting the silt and soil to fly out behind him, a little more wicked, a little more mischief, in the otherwise doldrum and melancholic haze.
Her question likely didn’t have to be answered – an immediate obstacle between Kiada and Chulane, but he did so anyway, blunt and forthright. Yes. It would be a dilemma they’d have to work out together; though another sinking dread began to crawl through his spine at the notion of the Harpy going to Halo. To live there permanently? The mountains called – but they weren’t his - not Basin auroras, not bliss, not intriguing – just treacherous and poignant in their haunting eaves. His jaw clenched tightly over a set of thyme, before dislodging it into the designated void. Nothing to do be done about the apprehension settling in again – a wait and see process.
His glance, piercing and puncturing, riveted back to her, and the lightest of snorts followed. I said the same. Kiada offered her house when they were ready. After suffering, after grief, after the attempts at recovering, moving forward, onward, from the latest onslaught and terror.
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
