memory’s so treacherous
The water wets his throat and it’s like the first day of Flowerbirth in his mind, dewy and cool and everything his fevered state isn’t. Still, the Spyglass is hardly an aggressive person (when not in his dreams, anyway), and October’s scolding and attempts to ease the glass away are recognised. It’s reluctant, but Finn does let go of the water, sinking back against the headboard to try and catch his breath. ”Sorry,” he manages - just about. ”I was just so thirsty, all of a sudden.”
Sighing out a whoosh of air, he rubs his aching eyes, then blinks around the room as if recognising it for the first time. Hints of a sad smile flick across his face; he can’t remember ever having company here before. ”You said it’s been 36 hours,” he murmurs. ”...Do the others know, then?”
Sighing out a whoosh of air, he rubs his aching eyes, then blinks around the room as if recognising it for the first time. Hints of a sad smile flick across his face; he can’t remember ever having company here before. ”You said it’s been 36 hours,” he murmurs. ”...Do the others know, then?”
one moment you’re lost in a carnival of delights
the next, it leads you somewhere you don’t want to go
FINN
