07-01-2015, 05:14 PM
He finds it easy, to be alone.
And even though it is easy it is not necessarily desired, not in the way he desires other things: skin that is not see through, wings that might bear him aloft – being alone is easier, he supposes. Easier because he is not so easily hunted, because he does not have to see the discomfort skirt their faces as their eyes trace the maps of his veins and arteries, so complacent beneath glassy skin.
He drifts in the falls. It’s as good a place as any. He likes the noise, the water’s strength. He catches glimpses of her, sometimes, but does not go closer. He cannot explain why.
He knows there was a quest, space and stars , old gods and new worlds, and he heard her name whispered among the chosen. It does not surprise him. She is a warrior, the kind who would be called upon for the impossible.
Then, she is there and he is not alone.
She looks the same, though there’s something in her eye, something Contagion can’t quite define. But he smiles. He is glad to see her, a familiar face, the silver patched woman who touched him as they watched the waterfall crash down.
“Hello,” he says.
contagion
be careful making wishes in the dark