Aamu
He's always out there somewhere in King's End, isn't he?
And the strange moonlight brings with it a paradox: to him, where every day grows darker and murkier than the previous, the brightness seems normal. It's almost like a relief—things are fine, after all—except that it's an unusually sticky night, like it's humid, but it can't be, it's too cool and pleasant—
So what's that damn stickiness on his skin? It's in his mouth, his eyes, on his hands, and he can't get it off, and it's really quite distressing. He eyes the gathered group with mild confusion as he goes past them to the tranquil sea to try and wash the texture off his hands, and if the shadows seem a bit deeper, well, that's just his imagination, right? There's nothing wrong with his eyes, right? Right?
Aamu's suffering from a curse that gradually makes him blinder and blinder!
And the strange moonlight brings with it a paradox: to him, where every day grows darker and murkier than the previous, the brightness seems normal. It's almost like a relief—things are fine, after all—except that it's an unusually sticky night, like it's humid, but it can't be, it's too cool and pleasant—
So what's that damn stickiness on his skin? It's in his mouth, his eyes, on his hands, and he can't get it off, and it's really quite distressing. He eyes the gathered group with mild confusion as he goes past them to the tranquil sea to try and wash the texture off his hands, and if the shadows seem a bit deeper, well, that's just his imagination, right? There's nothing wrong with his eyes, right? Right?
Aamu's suffering from a curse that gradually makes him blinder and blinder!
