awareness is the enemy of sanity
Finn actively shudders at that, but it’s a lighthearted exaggeration, at least, rather than the all too sincere admissions of a moment ago. ”I don’t do well under the water,” he says, his words quiet and deliberate. ”On it and near it is nothing. But under? I would kill us both in a panic,” he cautions, laughing quietly. It’s the way he terms it, that pendant made by Safrin - a spyglass - that makes him feel like perhaps he is dreaming even now. It’s all so neat, so perfectly tied together.
He has tilted his head up, able to see forks of lightning now, in the places where there are no clouds (they are few and far between). He misses the change in Remi’s expression, which is a shame, for the opportunity it offers. But Finn does consider the other man at his suggestion. The smile he offers is boyish and kind, but holds an old weight of resignation. ”You are welcome to try, if you feel so inclined. Nothing has ever worked.”
He has tilted his head up, able to see forks of lightning now, in the places where there are no clouds (they are few and far between). He misses the change in Remi’s expression, which is a shame, for the opportunity it offers. But Finn does consider the other man at his suggestion. The smile he offers is boyish and kind, but holds an old weight of resignation. ”You are welcome to try, if you feel so inclined. Nothing has ever worked.”
for once you hear the screaming
it never stops
FINN
