Will it fill our hearts with thoughts of endless night time sky?
Dreams are something that have become foreign to Nate, much like sleep. He still goes through the motions, wraps himself around his husband, closes his eyes, to no avail. At least, it’s usually to no avail. This time is different.
He opens his eyes and finds not the back rooms of the Slagveld, but wide, endless white, an expanse that stretches in every direction. It’s bright, so bright, the ascendeds hand lifting to cover his eye, lest it too be lost. As one sense closes off, another grows stronger, a call, somewhere in his chest, tugging him forward, into the blinding fog.
The ocean, or whatever it is, surprises Nate, his steps stumbling, though his hand stays stubbornly presses to his face. Fear and revulsion rise up in equal amounts, but they can be contained, can be bitten back, as long as he doesn’t see what he’s wading into, as long as he still follows the insistent call of something, mind supplying images that could be a pearl, or could be teeth. Whichever it is, his other hand splashes, reaching for the floor to search for shells, meaning to rip his prize from its caretaker.
Nate walks blindly into the fog/ocean, searching for the pearl
He opens his eyes and finds not the back rooms of the Slagveld, but wide, endless white, an expanse that stretches in every direction. It’s bright, so bright, the ascendeds hand lifting to cover his eye, lest it too be lost. As one sense closes off, another grows stronger, a call, somewhere in his chest, tugging him forward, into the blinding fog.
The ocean, or whatever it is, surprises Nate, his steps stumbling, though his hand stays stubbornly presses to his face. Fear and revulsion rise up in equal amounts, but they can be contained, can be bitten back, as long as he doesn’t see what he’s wading into, as long as he still follows the insistent call of something, mind supplying images that could be a pearl, or could be teeth. Whichever it is, his other hand splashes, reaching for the floor to search for shells, meaning to rip his prize from its caretaker.
Nate walks blindly into the fog/ocean, searching for the pearl
NATE
