sleep doesn't help if it's your soul that's tired
"All we are left with is what we have already done." It could be a confirmation or it could be a mere echo of what one of his reflections says. Saucer eyed and bleeding, Finn looks around at the eyes that watch him, one of them soaked red. Slowly, as if he is undertaking a task almost sacred in its importance, Finn takes two shard of mirror and joins them together, like he's putting pieces of a puzzle in place.
"I am not in the Tower, Remi." It's suddenly clear, who his reflection is, now that the two bits of mirror reveal a bit more of his face. "I am in the storm. There are fireworks under my tongue, and a stranger wears my skin. Would you like to see?"
He holds up the mirror before his face, like Remi will be able to see the man he looks like in the Halenani. Of course he doesn't, because deep in these chains of Finn's mind, Thomas is not allowed to tresspass. Only his deeds write their tales on Finn's body, in his dreams and outside of them.
"What did you do?" he whispers.
"I am not in the Tower, Remi." It's suddenly clear, who his reflection is, now that the two bits of mirror reveal a bit more of his face. "I am in the storm. There are fireworks under my tongue, and a stranger wears my skin. Would you like to see?"
He holds up the mirror before his face, like Remi will be able to see the man he looks like in the Halenani. Of course he doesn't, because deep in these chains of Finn's mind, Thomas is not allowed to tresspass. Only his deeds write their tales on Finn's body, in his dreams and outside of them.
"What did you do?" he whispers.
FINN
