we are all broken
Finn, normally so careful about contact with people, can do absolutely nothing as she takes his hand, though he’s pressed his eyes shut against the world as she peels it away from his face. There’s a sweet breeze that seems to fill him to the brim, though, and his aches and pains subside... though, gods, if it doesn’t bring the fever roaring forth again. ”I’m tired too,” he whispers - a moment of clarity in the horror.
”I need to go home, Amalia. There’s just so many hands in the ceiling, trying to grab me.” A short lived moment, as it happens. Finn is still holding her hand, though - he feels like if he lets go he might slide off the face of the world. ”Do you know how to sleep?” he slurs. ”Will you tell me?”
”I need to go home, Amalia. There’s just so many hands in the ceiling, trying to grab me.” A short lived moment, as it happens. Finn is still holding her hand, though - he feels like if he lets go he might slide off the face of the world. ”Do you know how to sleep?” he slurs. ”Will you tell me?”
that’s how the light gets in
