when you bury your pain
”Apparently so,” Finn says with a quiet chuckle, though with talk of losing sight and deadly Fae and scars that run deeper than the bones, it’s difficult to get his mood to float back up to where it had been previously. Still, they can’t have everything, and it’s enough to laugh sometimes, even rarely, for the Spyglass. His hands do clench, though, at the suggestion of something just happening to break. They both know they’re talking about his glasses, and whilst it’s never been mentioned overtly, he isn’t surprised that Remi can put two and two together.
”I don’t know if it would make all that much of a difference,” he admits softly, sadly. Pausing on the trail that only he can see, he reaches up to take the spectacles from his nose, glancing about the woods. The auras disappear, mostly, but that doesn’t mean his vision is anything like quiet. There are shadows that sneak in the corners of his eyes, colours and halos around things that feel too bright, movements in things that ought to be still.
Sighing, he slips them back on again. ”Can’t fix crazy,” he said, the remark slipping out unbidden, and he regrets it instantly as something far too personal that he ought to have kept to himself.
”I don’t know if it would make all that much of a difference,” he admits softly, sadly. Pausing on the trail that only he can see, he reaches up to take the spectacles from his nose, glancing about the woods. The auras disappear, mostly, but that doesn’t mean his vision is anything like quiet. There are shadows that sneak in the corners of his eyes, colours and halos around things that feel too bright, movements in things that ought to be still.
Sighing, he slips them back on again. ”Can’t fix crazy,” he said, the remark slipping out unbidden, and he regrets it instantly as something far too personal that he ought to have kept to himself.
THE SPYGLASS
you only strengthen its roots
