[private] break these bones until they're better

[linnea]

She had been dreaming of strange things, of a forest bent to her will and to her want and to the ache inside her chest. There had been an orchard of trees around her, clustered so close that the only light seeping through the thousands of pale pink and white cherry blossoms was a faint, gauzy glow that left her feeling safe and hidden. There had been creatures in the hidden places behind tree trunks - foxes and rabbits, waddling skunks. There had even been a pair of wolves sitting like stone statues not six feet away from where she lay covered in petals.

The scent of this place is still in her nose as morning finds and wakes her gently. She can smell the damp earthiness of the secret orchard, smell the fragrance of those pale pink petals. She can even still smell the musk of the animals as they wandered harmlessly around her in the soft, trodden grass.

She is not expecting for those things to still be there when she finally opens her eyes. They are pretend things, dream remnants that will fade as soon as her mind remembers all the pieces of her life, leaving no room for temporary things.

Except.
When her eyes open (and they are green and pupiless now, the color of spring and budding grass, of new life and the faintly glowing cracks throughout her changed skin) she very nearly yelps at the small hare directly in front of her bark-covered nose. “Oh!” She says, leaning up to look at the small mammal. But then her eyes wander past to take in the strangeness around them, of a forest full of cherry blossom trees, of foxes and rabbits and a pair of sentinel wolves. Of skunks that waddle and birds that weigh the lowest branches down with dozens of tiny, feathered blue and brown bodies.

“Nikolaus?” She whispers, and she reaches over to touch her nose to his neck where he lay sleeping beside her, as constant as her own shadow. “Nikolaus, wake up.” Those pale glass green eyes like twin pools of living light find the place where Quake and Serena sleep, but they are dozing and unharmed, unaware of the soft blanket of cherry blossom petals that cover them while they doze the length of several trees away. She cannot keep her gaze from the waiting animals for very long though, especially those silent wolves who sit watching them with such still, glass eyes. “Nikolaus, did you take us somewhere?” Her voice comes as a gentle whisper when she can feel the way he rouses slowly at her side.

linnea

these wildfires grow and grow until a brand new world takes shape

@nikolaus

[nikolaus]

how do I learn my dreams to mold, to lay them bare in the morning cold?

They have, impossibly, fallen into some sort of normalcy—normalcy for them. It is a beautiful thing. More beautiful than he could have ever dreamt about. More beautiful than he could have ever hoped for. But there is always a fear that accompanies it because he, more than anyone perhaps, knows that such things are not meant to last. He had see his parent’s normalcy shatter into a million pieces. Had seen the same for his sister. Had felt the same very tension snap in his life, leave him broken and bent.

So he relishes each and every moment, but he does not trust it.

He takes his time waking each morning, as though frightened that when he opens his eyes that it will all be gone. That he will have dreamt such a thing—such peace. That night has not come back to claim them. That some poster had not found his family, leaving him defenseless to protect them. It makes him hate his crooked, bent legs even more than before and when he stumbles as he walks, he finds that it is difficult to not cry. Difficult to not break down and weep for the weakness that he thrusts upon them.

And today is much the same.

When he wakes, it is to the feel of her nose against him, and he murmurs under his breath. Just a few more minutes, he thinks, cherishing that warmth of her—that rough brush of bark against him. If it feels different, if she even smells different, he does not notice. But she insists and he finally relents, cracking his silver eyes open and catching the sight of the animals in the distance. “What—“ he starts but the rest of the words don’t come as consciousness floods him. He shifts and draws himself upward, knees still tucked underneath him, but his body more alert. His face is a mask of concern and wonder, the two warring against one another as he takes in the sight of their surroundings, peaceful and yet strange.

“I—I don’t think so,” he manages, dragging his eyes away from them to look at her.

And when he sees her, his breath catches in his throat.

“Linnea,” his voice is hoarse, the wonder washing everything away.

“I think it’s you.”

nikolaus

if they’re still out there then the chasm grows
( for all you know, for all you’ve known )