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the sun goes down like a photograph

Marcus draped his arms across Cordelia’s neck as she came towards him, relief flooding his veins faster and hotter than anything he felt before. It was warm enough to melt the icy guilt in his belly, and in his mother’s embrace nothing else mattered. But then she spoke, and his father, and Marcus pulled away.

”Don’t be mad.” Marcus managed, voice still slightly raspy as he pressed words through that he somehow knew — concepts pressed in to his mind that only came from the touch of a god. ”We were just playing — a ningo—“ it looked so funny Margot laughed, lifting her hands to her father’s face as he knelt before her.

you try to stop time in the aftermath