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An Angel's Respite (Chapter Thirteen)
It's late at night, the storm cleared up nicely having the clouds lazily puffing away, a small amount of snow carefully descending the sky as the wind creaked against the roof's shingles trying desperately to rip them clean out.
Alexander leans closer to the cold railing trying to keep the little warmth he has left from the cold night air silently admiring the stars above him as the monsters chatter amongst themselves, Alexander paying no real attention.
Most were quietly sleeping—even they needed sleep—it always confused Alexander, still does, 'why do you need sleep? You don't even have a body or bed to rest on.' They would usually yell and scream at him, some not even hearing the question, still they can't read Alexander's mind only what he sees and hears, it was a miracle and a curse, sometimes both at the same time. He was exhausted however he couldn't seem to shut his mind off, like the cold night air had permeated his skull making sleep the last thing on his mind at the moment.
Nightmares, something that seems so childish, what is there to be afraid of? The dark? Taxes? He couldn't dream most nights. His brain only could recount events that had happened to him many nights waking up in a cold sweat from seeing something he did with his own two hands.
He tried to distract himself, his mind subconsciously ran thought his routine in his head—his old routine—just to realize he wasn't in the army anymore it seemed so foolish, naive and idiotic after so long to still sometimes believe he's somehow in the military still commanding, still fighting, still waking up the next day to hurt—kill thousands.
He shuddered at the thought and tried to distance himself from it, with something different, somehow even from miles away the military can still make him lose sleep, if it was anything, it was impressive in a terrifying sort of way.
He looked at the night sky—one of the voices saying it looks more like waves in the ocean and the stars being small fish as galaxies seemingly dance around on thin air, he didn't mind that idea they always had more of an imagination then he did. The thought led him to think about the story Hester told him.
"I flew straight up trying to touch one—a star.“
As a man who has spent a very big portion of his life investigating prisoners, liers and enemy officers, he could read people like an open book Hester without exception. The way his voice grew to sound strong and powerful to barely a whisper at the next, the twinkle in his eyes as his hands tried to paint the memory he saw before him—it was something Alexander had never witnessed before.
As he talked Alexander found himself believing it, leaning in trying desperately to remember every little detail as Hester described it.
He couldn't help himself.
Hester had believed—knows this like he knows the moon rises at night or how the Earth rotates around the sun, knows it as the grass is green and the water is blue, this happened to Hester.
Alexander slowly shifted away from his thoughts as he heard the soft creak of the door behind him, he tried and failed to keep the small smile from his lips.
"Could not rest either?" He asked as he heard a light thud and a soft sign, and then Hester was at his side by the railing. "You could say that, suppose every night can't be a good one."
«»«»«»«»«»
Oh great, the bird.
Are you serious right now?
Can't he just leave you alone? He's so annoying!
«»«»«»«»«»
Alexander ignored the buzz of Hester's appearance and instead hummed a reply as he flexed his metal prosthetic, his arm making a slight clink as he rested comfortably back on the railing.
"Especially getting an elbow to the face." Hester said light-heartedly, propping his chin on one of his hands, Alexander could practically see the scenario in his head of Wilbur hitting Hester in his sleep—he didn't need to read Hester, he was definitely telling the truth.
«»«»«»«»«»
He deserves that.
«»«»«»«»«»
One of them said, the comment making Alexander's blood boil, as the monsters continued trying to taunt Hester—all of them knowing Hester couldn't hear any of them, still trying a futile attempt—luckily most were still asleep making it so Alexander could actually listen to Hester.
"What's keeping you up then, mate?" Hester asks
Alexander hummed again trying and failing to put a cohesive answer together, talking—conversations in general—had never been his strong suit even in the military, him being known as a quiet and closed off person—especially as someone who was a captain. Perhaps it was from Alexander always being able to have an entire conversation alone—alone to the normal eye that is.
So he stays silent trying to find his answer as Hester waits patiently at his side.
"I. . . I forget that I am. . . I am not in the army anymore, I'm not in danger every night." Looking at Hester he didn't really understand the question he asked, Hester merely gestured for him to continue—even the monsters settled down to quietly hear him.
"I suppose—I never realized how stressful it was, not knowing if you would wake up the next morning, right. . ?" He took a breath trying to ground himself as Hester listened. "I suppose I never realized how much this life would be different from that, and, as childish as it sounds I miss some of the things from my time there. That's—that's probably ridiculous, I know. . ." He trailed off, he was rambling as usual—Hester didn't want to hear him go on, he just wanted to sleep at least that's what he thought—who would want to hear him talk about this anyways?
They both relapsed back into silence as the snow fell around the two of them, the monsters being the most quiet Alexander has ever seen before.
"It happens to me too," Hester said with a hint of bitterness as he looked out seeing the rolling mountain tops. "I've been telling myself that I can't go back, but by the Gods it's hard some days trying to convince myself I made the right choice." His hands tightened against the railing as he continued to gaze out.
"But in the end, I choose what I fight for, what I stand for." Hester sighed then continued, "I made my choice and I'll stick by it till the very end, but I know you were forced into yours, constantly, but I'm here for you—so if you stay with us we'll stay by you."
Alexander regarded Hester and found nothing but honesty reflected back at him.
He didn't understand.
They relapsed back into silence however strangely comfortable, a quiet moment of peace. Alexander felt at home with Hester at his side. Alexander always felt he could learn more—now he has someone to teach him.
A small snowflake fell particularly slowly in front of Hester; he held out his hand letting it fall gracefully in his palm, smiling brightly at the small star-like snowflake he was holding.
Alexander noticed a long raised scar on the back of Hester's hand close to his wrist and veins, it seemed old and faded but was still clearly visible.
"How did you get that?" Alexander asked with unfiltered curiosity, it took a sideways glance from Hester for him to realize how insensitive the question sounded. Embarrassed, he started sputtering an apology Hester merely waved it off.
"Got in a fight with a Shadow when I was younger didn't really know how to defend myself—so I just got nicked a little."
«»«»«»«»«»
Ha! Can't even beat a Shadow!
Really had to ruin the moment, huh?
I'm surprised he answered, I wouldn't have.
«»«»«»«»«»
Hester then titles his head ever-so-slightly at Alexander, a catlike look to his smile, a mischievous curiosity as he examines Alexander like some sort of exhibit then leaned over and tapped a small line on Alexander's neck. "Where'd you get that?"
He chuckled, moving his untied hair out of the way for Hester to get a better look. The scar came from his shoulder over to his neck—the angry mark persistently stayed after many long years. "I was younger and was being taught how to use a bow, to say the captain was unimpressed would be an understatement."
Hester smirked at the final remark "Personally I would be very disappointed if someone, somehow shot themselves in the neck and killed themselve—"
"I was young! They literally watched me struggle for enos!"
Hester's laughter was loud, it carried through the whole mountain range, the noise cutting the quiet night to pieces. Alexander smiling looks down as Hester rolls up his sleeve, a dozen different raised areas on each, a patchwork of scars. It felt like some sort of childish game, playing roulette with scars and memories. Did he risk the fact of brushing up against something personal, or take a blind shot at learning more about this strange man he sees before him?
"What about, uh, this one?" He said lightly tapping a long line of scar tissue on Hester's upper arm close to his elbow.
Hester looked at the scar, "that one," He squinted trying to remember then said, "Was from a cannon I was behind, it exploded." Alexander winced.
"Aww mate, it wasn't that bad!" Hester laughed at the look he gave, "I am sure it was." Alexander says doubtfully. He had never been badly burned before, apparently it was one of the more painful injuries, especially if you didn't have the proper supplies to treat it, and seeing the way Hester could wrap bandages, he didn't think Hester had ever been near a doctor before.
"How'd you get that one?" Hester asked quickly, pointing at Alexander's face, looking at a scar starting on one side of his face across the bridge of his nose to the other, Hester had clearly been intrigued to know from the start by how fast he asked. Alexander responded by shaking his head smiling.
"This one was when I was still in learning, one of the students discovered that I hadn't lost a fight yet, and wanted to be the first to beat me."
Hester made a face, "Have you really never lost a fight before?" Alexander laughed at the thought, he had lost dozens hundreds, thousands more likely.
«»«»«»«»«»
Tell him yes!
Say no!
Has Alexander ever lost a fight before? I genuinely can't remember.
«»«»«»«»«»
"Have you ever lost a fight before?" He objected, Hester realized the answer. "I am now left with a scar—but so does he, we are even."
Hester leaned in closer, clearly interested in the story despite himself.
"I should thank him, actually. Afterwards, the higher ups moved me to a different sector seeing the way I fought, they thought I had much more potential—all I needed was proper training on how to use it."
He looked at Hester, seeing him staring mouth wide open and eyes looking almost as big.
"It was a little childish, to say the least." He added quickly, slightly embarrassed at the story looking back on it—he left out a few of the minor details, like how he didn't need a fake eye after everything.
"Where did you get uh, that one?" He asked to change the subject, pointing to a small section on Hester's wings the feathers stuck out awkwardly—it was clearly scarred under the ink-black feathers.
"Fell off my family's roof—how about that one?"
"Got shot at while getting to a compound."
Alexander said his mind drifted slightly, remembering the story Hester told him, again wanting to know the answer to his question he asked.
"Did you fall off your family's roof after you met Death? Or is that a different time?"
"Oh, is that what we're talking about now?" Hester quipped, having that same damn catlike smile that spelled nothing but trouble for Alexander, but Hester leaned on the railing relaxing more, remembering the event in his mind, putting the memory together, he was going to tell him.
«»«»«»«»«»
Wait, everyone shut up, I'm actually interested.
Oh, story time?
I'm so excited!
Finally, he's so annoying—but he has good stories.
«»«»«»«»«»
"So, what's the question you asked this morning?"
"Why can you not go back, why can you not fly up right now and see her again?"
Hester sighed heavily and looked up—before he was keeping his eyes straight ahead at the mountain range keeping his gaze level—now he looks up and sees the sparkling night sky watching purple streams shoot past the waves of the mountains as nebulous and flashing stars seeming waltz across galaxies.
For a moment Hester was taken aback by the beauty.
"I tried,"
Hester started slowly.
"I really tried to see her again," Hester said the pit in his stomach revealing itself again, the pain of leaving her—knowing that no matter what—he would never see her again.
"But, I didn't go high enough—or, or I was too early or too late, but I-I did something different, I don't know what but I did,"
Hester swollowed something thick in his throat with surprising difficulty.
"I don't know what I did wrong."
He admitted, Alexander silently listening, more at a loss for words—there was nothing he could say nothing anyone could say for him to feel better the situation was the problem itself.
"I—sorry—probably thought this would be something better, huh?" Hester chuckle—it being too bitter and watery for it to sound convincing, he put his hand to his eyes and sighed.
"I am sorry," Alexander says softly. "I am sorry I didn't realize." Alexander looks down. The monsters screaming for—something—Alexander trying to keep himself composed and grounded from the burning rage he feels in his vains. How dare they.
Hester steady himself far quicker then Alexander and continued looking out at the mountains, instead of the sky—something the Gods themselves gave him the power to rule, control, master, the sky and winds—instead them going back on their word and leaving Hester to forever be close to her—Lady Death that is, but never again be in the presence of her domain.
It didn't escape Hester's notice the irony of it all.
"Once I failed the first time, I didn't try again. I just didn't want to—"
"Fall, again?" Alexander finished.
"Physically and metaphorically speaking, yeah." Hester says.
The silence was after everything, comfortable, the two looking out—not at the twinkling lights above them—but instead at the rolling mountain view, the small forest in the distance with the trees swaying in the wind as that very same wind violently tugs at the shingles of the roof, ripping a few off. However both men pay it no heed as they enjoy the cold night air and the quietness of the life that they somehow managed to find themselves in.
Eventually Alexander returns to his bed for the night, Hester staying outside leaning on the wooden railing alone. He hears the sky call to him, the pit in his stomach screaming at him to move, the wind begging him to see her again.
Hester looks up at the sky once more.
And begins opening his wings—he didn't know what he was doing. Like his mind and body were separated from one another he felt the oh-so familiar sensation of his wings catching the wind as they opened. The pain no longer there but instead the childlike excitement that came with flying.
He frowned to himself, slowly folding his wings closed, he just made a promise, and a prediction, he couldn't go back. So why was he still trying? He looked away from the peaceful night sky instead turned to see the wooden cottage he had been living inside—the people inside were perfect, they were his flock.
His flock.
But not his family.
The pit in his stomach eating away more as he feels just as hollow as the first time leaving her, the same painful feeling of the missing piece becoming lost once more, it was a trance it was something that seemed out of his control—nothing was in his control.
He couldn't end the story. Not yet.
He opened his wings.
And flew away.
[[]][[]][[]][[]][[]]
Art by MilkTea on X
Inspired by 'Stories by the sea' by Kn1ghtShade on A03
If anyone's confused on why I post once a day now instead of the original. . . once every two weeks? I actually finished the whole book, like, two months ago. I'm trying to post them in doses for easier consumption. I don't know, I've never posted online before (;;;・_・)
© Unavailable
[[]][[]][[]][[]][[]]
Alexander leans closer to the cold railing trying to keep the little warmth he has left from the cold night air silently admiring the stars above him as the monsters chatter amongst themselves, Alexander paying no real attention.
Most were quietly sleeping—even they needed sleep—it always confused Alexander, still does, 'why do you need sleep? You don't even have a body or bed to rest on.' They would usually yell and scream at him, some not even hearing the question, still they can't read Alexander's mind only what he sees and hears, it was a miracle and a curse, sometimes both at the same time. He was exhausted however he couldn't seem to shut his mind off, like the cold night air had permeated his skull making sleep the last thing on his mind at the moment.
Nightmares, something that seems so childish, what is there to be afraid of? The dark? Taxes? He couldn't dream most nights. His brain only could recount events that had happened to him many nights waking up in a cold sweat from seeing something he did with his own two hands.
He tried to distract himself, his mind subconsciously ran thought his routine in his head—his old routine—just to realize he wasn't in the army anymore it seemed so foolish, naive and idiotic after so long to still sometimes believe he's somehow in the military still commanding, still fighting, still waking up the next day to hurt—kill thousands.
He shuddered at the thought and tried to distance himself from it, with something different, somehow even from miles away the military can still make him lose sleep, if it was anything, it was impressive in a terrifying sort of way.
He looked at the night sky—one of the voices saying it looks more like waves in the ocean and the stars being small fish as galaxies seemingly dance around on thin air, he didn't mind that idea they always had more of an imagination then he did. The thought led him to think about the story Hester told him.
"I flew straight up trying to touch one—a star.“
As a man who has spent a very big portion of his life investigating prisoners, liers and enemy officers, he could read people like an open book Hester without exception. The way his voice grew to sound strong and powerful to barely a whisper at the next, the twinkle in his eyes as his hands tried to paint the memory he saw before him—it was something Alexander had never witnessed before.
As he talked Alexander found himself believing it, leaning in trying desperately to remember every little detail as Hester described it.
He couldn't help himself.
Hester had believed—knows this like he knows the moon rises at night or how the Earth rotates around the sun, knows it as the grass is green and the water is blue, this happened to Hester.
Alexander slowly shifted away from his thoughts as he heard the soft creak of the door behind him, he tried and failed to keep the small smile from his lips.
"Could not rest either?" He asked as he heard a light thud and a soft sign, and then Hester was at his side by the railing. "You could say that, suppose every night can't be a good one."
«»«»«»«»«»
Oh great, the bird.
Are you serious right now?
Can't he just leave you alone? He's so annoying!
«»«»«»«»«»
Alexander ignored the buzz of Hester's appearance and instead hummed a reply as he flexed his metal prosthetic, his arm making a slight clink as he rested comfortably back on the railing.
"Especially getting an elbow to the face." Hester said light-heartedly, propping his chin on one of his hands, Alexander could practically see the scenario in his head of Wilbur hitting Hester in his sleep—he didn't need to read Hester, he was definitely telling the truth.
«»«»«»«»«»
He deserves that.
«»«»«»«»«»
One of them said, the comment making Alexander's blood boil, as the monsters continued trying to taunt Hester—all of them knowing Hester couldn't hear any of them, still trying a futile attempt—luckily most were still asleep making it so Alexander could actually listen to Hester.
"What's keeping you up then, mate?" Hester asks
Alexander hummed again trying and failing to put a cohesive answer together, talking—conversations in general—had never been his strong suit even in the military, him being known as a quiet and closed off person—especially as someone who was a captain. Perhaps it was from Alexander always being able to have an entire conversation alone—alone to the normal eye that is.
So he stays silent trying to find his answer as Hester waits patiently at his side.
"I. . . I forget that I am. . . I am not in the army anymore, I'm not in danger every night." Looking at Hester he didn't really understand the question he asked, Hester merely gestured for him to continue—even the monsters settled down to quietly hear him.
"I suppose—I never realized how stressful it was, not knowing if you would wake up the next morning, right. . ?" He took a breath trying to ground himself as Hester listened. "I suppose I never realized how much this life would be different from that, and, as childish as it sounds I miss some of the things from my time there. That's—that's probably ridiculous, I know. . ." He trailed off, he was rambling as usual—Hester didn't want to hear him go on, he just wanted to sleep at least that's what he thought—who would want to hear him talk about this anyways?
They both relapsed back into silence as the snow fell around the two of them, the monsters being the most quiet Alexander has ever seen before.
"It happens to me too," Hester said with a hint of bitterness as he looked out seeing the rolling mountain tops. "I've been telling myself that I can't go back, but by the Gods it's hard some days trying to convince myself I made the right choice." His hands tightened against the railing as he continued to gaze out.
"But in the end, I choose what I fight for, what I stand for." Hester sighed then continued, "I made my choice and I'll stick by it till the very end, but I know you were forced into yours, constantly, but I'm here for you—so if you stay with us we'll stay by you."
Alexander regarded Hester and found nothing but honesty reflected back at him.
He didn't understand.
They relapsed back into silence however strangely comfortable, a quiet moment of peace. Alexander felt at home with Hester at his side. Alexander always felt he could learn more—now he has someone to teach him.
A small snowflake fell particularly slowly in front of Hester; he held out his hand letting it fall gracefully in his palm, smiling brightly at the small star-like snowflake he was holding.
Alexander noticed a long raised scar on the back of Hester's hand close to his wrist and veins, it seemed old and faded but was still clearly visible.
"How did you get that?" Alexander asked with unfiltered curiosity, it took a sideways glance from Hester for him to realize how insensitive the question sounded. Embarrassed, he started sputtering an apology Hester merely waved it off.
"Got in a fight with a Shadow when I was younger didn't really know how to defend myself—so I just got nicked a little."
«»«»«»«»«»
Ha! Can't even beat a Shadow!
Really had to ruin the moment, huh?
I'm surprised he answered, I wouldn't have.
«»«»«»«»«»
Hester then titles his head ever-so-slightly at Alexander, a catlike look to his smile, a mischievous curiosity as he examines Alexander like some sort of exhibit then leaned over and tapped a small line on Alexander's neck. "Where'd you get that?"
He chuckled, moving his untied hair out of the way for Hester to get a better look. The scar came from his shoulder over to his neck—the angry mark persistently stayed after many long years. "I was younger and was being taught how to use a bow, to say the captain was unimpressed would be an understatement."
Hester smirked at the final remark "Personally I would be very disappointed if someone, somehow shot themselves in the neck and killed themselve—"
"I was young! They literally watched me struggle for enos!"
Hester's laughter was loud, it carried through the whole mountain range, the noise cutting the quiet night to pieces. Alexander smiling looks down as Hester rolls up his sleeve, a dozen different raised areas on each, a patchwork of scars. It felt like some sort of childish game, playing roulette with scars and memories. Did he risk the fact of brushing up against something personal, or take a blind shot at learning more about this strange man he sees before him?
"What about, uh, this one?" He said lightly tapping a long line of scar tissue on Hester's upper arm close to his elbow.
Hester looked at the scar, "that one," He squinted trying to remember then said, "Was from a cannon I was behind, it exploded." Alexander winced.
"Aww mate, it wasn't that bad!" Hester laughed at the look he gave, "I am sure it was." Alexander says doubtfully. He had never been badly burned before, apparently it was one of the more painful injuries, especially if you didn't have the proper supplies to treat it, and seeing the way Hester could wrap bandages, he didn't think Hester had ever been near a doctor before.
"How'd you get that one?" Hester asked quickly, pointing at Alexander's face, looking at a scar starting on one side of his face across the bridge of his nose to the other, Hester had clearly been intrigued to know from the start by how fast he asked. Alexander responded by shaking his head smiling.
"This one was when I was still in learning, one of the students discovered that I hadn't lost a fight yet, and wanted to be the first to beat me."
Hester made a face, "Have you really never lost a fight before?" Alexander laughed at the thought, he had lost dozens hundreds, thousands more likely.
«»«»«»«»«»
Tell him yes!
Say no!
Has Alexander ever lost a fight before? I genuinely can't remember.
«»«»«»«»«»
"Have you ever lost a fight before?" He objected, Hester realized the answer. "I am now left with a scar—but so does he, we are even."
Hester leaned in closer, clearly interested in the story despite himself.
"I should thank him, actually. Afterwards, the higher ups moved me to a different sector seeing the way I fought, they thought I had much more potential—all I needed was proper training on how to use it."
He looked at Hester, seeing him staring mouth wide open and eyes looking almost as big.
"It was a little childish, to say the least." He added quickly, slightly embarrassed at the story looking back on it—he left out a few of the minor details, like how he didn't need a fake eye after everything.
"Where did you get uh, that one?" He asked to change the subject, pointing to a small section on Hester's wings the feathers stuck out awkwardly—it was clearly scarred under the ink-black feathers.
"Fell off my family's roof—how about that one?"
"Got shot at while getting to a compound."
Alexander said his mind drifted slightly, remembering the story Hester told him, again wanting to know the answer to his question he asked.
"Did you fall off your family's roof after you met Death? Or is that a different time?"
"Oh, is that what we're talking about now?" Hester quipped, having that same damn catlike smile that spelled nothing but trouble for Alexander, but Hester leaned on the railing relaxing more, remembering the event in his mind, putting the memory together, he was going to tell him.
«»«»«»«»«»
Wait, everyone shut up, I'm actually interested.
Oh, story time?
I'm so excited!
Finally, he's so annoying—but he has good stories.
«»«»«»«»«»
"So, what's the question you asked this morning?"
"Why can you not go back, why can you not fly up right now and see her again?"
Hester sighed heavily and looked up—before he was keeping his eyes straight ahead at the mountain range keeping his gaze level—now he looks up and sees the sparkling night sky watching purple streams shoot past the waves of the mountains as nebulous and flashing stars seeming waltz across galaxies.
For a moment Hester was taken aback by the beauty.
"I tried,"
Hester started slowly.
"I really tried to see her again," Hester said the pit in his stomach revealing itself again, the pain of leaving her—knowing that no matter what—he would never see her again.
"But, I didn't go high enough—or, or I was too early or too late, but I-I did something different, I don't know what but I did,"
Hester swollowed something thick in his throat with surprising difficulty.
"I don't know what I did wrong."
He admitted, Alexander silently listening, more at a loss for words—there was nothing he could say nothing anyone could say for him to feel better the situation was the problem itself.
"I—sorry—probably thought this would be something better, huh?" Hester chuckle—it being too bitter and watery for it to sound convincing, he put his hand to his eyes and sighed.
"I am sorry," Alexander says softly. "I am sorry I didn't realize." Alexander looks down. The monsters screaming for—something—Alexander trying to keep himself composed and grounded from the burning rage he feels in his vains. How dare they.
Hester steady himself far quicker then Alexander and continued looking out at the mountains, instead of the sky—something the Gods themselves gave him the power to rule, control, master, the sky and winds—instead them going back on their word and leaving Hester to forever be close to her—Lady Death that is, but never again be in the presence of her domain.
It didn't escape Hester's notice the irony of it all.
"Once I failed the first time, I didn't try again. I just didn't want to—"
"Fall, again?" Alexander finished.
"Physically and metaphorically speaking, yeah." Hester says.
The silence was after everything, comfortable, the two looking out—not at the twinkling lights above them—but instead at the rolling mountain view, the small forest in the distance with the trees swaying in the wind as that very same wind violently tugs at the shingles of the roof, ripping a few off. However both men pay it no heed as they enjoy the cold night air and the quietness of the life that they somehow managed to find themselves in.
Eventually Alexander returns to his bed for the night, Hester staying outside leaning on the wooden railing alone. He hears the sky call to him, the pit in his stomach screaming at him to move, the wind begging him to see her again.
Hester looks up at the sky once more.
And begins opening his wings—he didn't know what he was doing. Like his mind and body were separated from one another he felt the oh-so familiar sensation of his wings catching the wind as they opened. The pain no longer there but instead the childlike excitement that came with flying.
He frowned to himself, slowly folding his wings closed, he just made a promise, and a prediction, he couldn't go back. So why was he still trying? He looked away from the peaceful night sky instead turned to see the wooden cottage he had been living inside—the people inside were perfect, they were his flock.
His flock.
But not his family.
The pit in his stomach eating away more as he feels just as hollow as the first time leaving her, the same painful feeling of the missing piece becoming lost once more, it was a trance it was something that seemed out of his control—nothing was in his control.
He couldn't end the story. Not yet.
He opened his wings.
And flew away.
[[]][[]][[]][[]][[]]
Art by MilkTea on X
Inspired by 'Stories by the sea' by Kn1ghtShade on A03
If anyone's confused on why I post once a day now instead of the original. . . once every two weeks? I actually finished the whole book, like, two months ago. I'm trying to post them in doses for easier consumption. I don't know, I've never posted online before (;;;・_・)
© Unavailable
[[]][[]][[]][[]][[]]
