we are all broken
The door swings opens against her assault, because it hasn’t been locked or shut properly in some time. Within, the world is dark - not just because the thick curtains are drawn or because the lanterns are all out. No, Finn has made this world dark with his mind, painting the walls in black and shadow, so that nothing can peep out. Not even his own thoughts.
Were it not for the windows all being thrown open, the air would smell stale, but as it is the sweetness and sunshine of LongHeat fills the room. It’s a mess, though. Clothes everywhere, some of them shredded into careful, meticulous ribbons, and braided together to drape across the writing desk. Letters scatter there, and a compass hangs out of a hastily shut drawer.
Finn, though? Finn Roseinpants is in bed, a small and quivering lump under a tangle of blankets. The pillows are all on the floor, and he glares out at her from a small corner of his nest. There’s blood on his face. ”Everything lies,” he whispers to her.
Were it not for the windows all being thrown open, the air would smell stale, but as it is the sweetness and sunshine of LongHeat fills the room. It’s a mess, though. Clothes everywhere, some of them shredded into careful, meticulous ribbons, and braided together to drape across the writing desk. Letters scatter there, and a compass hangs out of a hastily shut drawer.
Finn, though? Finn Roseinpants is in bed, a small and quivering lump under a tangle of blankets. The pillows are all on the floor, and he glares out at her from a small corner of his nest. There’s blood on his face. ”Everything lies,” he whispers to her.
that’s how the light gets in
