when you bury your pain
What won’t? Finn wants to say it, but his voice won’t make the words, especially as Remi prowls closer to the corpse of himself that has slumped so dramatically to the floor. The Alchemist knows the answers to his questions. They both know them, and yet they both wait for him to do it anyway. He steps into Finn, manipulates his form so that the body twitches and moves, and the Spyglass feels as though he’s caving in on himself.
He watches Remi move him around, but he’s not seeing it, not really. He’s seeing himself in the water with drowning children. He’s seeing himself walk on waves, smile mocking, cruel almost. He’s seeing himself throw glasses against walls, screaming in the rain, with his hands around Cian’s throat, with his lips on Amalia’s, all bruising kisses and taking, taking, not asking.
”Get out.” His voice is trembling. A small and desperate thing, like a trapped butterfly beating against the glass tomb of a jar.
He watches Remi move him around, but he’s not seeing it, not really. He’s seeing himself in the water with drowning children. He’s seeing himself walk on waves, smile mocking, cruel almost. He’s seeing himself throw glasses against walls, screaming in the rain, with his hands around Cian’s throat, with his lips on Amalia’s, all bruising kisses and taking, taking, not asking.
”Get out.” His voice is trembling. A small and desperate thing, like a trapped butterfly beating against the glass tomb of a jar.
THE SPYGLASS
you only strengthen its roots
