when you bury your pain
Finn huffs out a laugh that’s anything but amused, shrugging his shoulders and gazing into the distance with eyes that beg to glaze over, to let the world become nothing more than a blur of colour. His hands clench and unclench, and he turns to rub the scruff of his cheek against his shoulder, like he doesn’t want to touch his face. Then Remi asks the question they’ve both been waiting for, the question Finn has both wanted and wanted to avoid. Because he won’t lie to his strange twin. He doesn’t think he can, not in the same way he can lie to other people.
”Um,” he says slowly - good start, Finn. ”Since my early twenties, when insomnia really started to set in, I haven’t... I hallucinate, when I’m tired.” And these days, sometimes even when I’m not. ”The glasses let me see... I don’t know how to describe it. I can tell if an Attuned, or an Accepted, or any of the others have been nearby. There are colours... it’s how I’m following Delphia now.” He points ahead, to where he can see where she’s been walking, clear as day.
”Demigods are different. Unique. Like this one... shades of violet and charcoal,” he mumbles.
”Um,” he says slowly - good start, Finn. ”Since my early twenties, when insomnia really started to set in, I haven’t... I hallucinate, when I’m tired.” And these days, sometimes even when I’m not. ”The glasses let me see... I don’t know how to describe it. I can tell if an Attuned, or an Accepted, or any of the others have been nearby. There are colours... it’s how I’m following Delphia now.” He points ahead, to where he can see where she’s been walking, clear as day.
”Demigods are different. Unique. Like this one... shades of violet and charcoal,” he mumbles.
THE SPYGLASS
you only strengthen its roots
