[private] Rapt

[rapt]

there is a dream in the space between the hammer and the nail ------ the dream of about-to-be-hit, which is a bad dream ------------ but the nail will take the hit if it gets to sleep inside the wood forever The boy shakes his head at Rapt’s presumptive question, and he feels all the more the fool. Maybe he’s mistaken all around, maybe this is just some random child, or maybe his name doesn’t matter enough to be spoken in Hyaline. None of it matters. The boy still doesn’t speak, a puzzle of silence, but he moves – steps closer and Rapt’s fights his instinct to step back, and he feels a brief softness as the boy’s muzzle brushes his, and then, surprising, a warm glow of light. Gifted in more than just the wings, and he wonders what else lurks inside the power, what powers. His own self is powerless, as is his line – Caius had wings, once, but they were kingdom-gifted, and gone when Rapt was born, leaving behind wounds that never quite healed. He’s grateful when the boy steps back, and watches as more light emits, forming shapes. Triangles. Rapt doesn’t really know what it means, but he smiles politely as if he does. “I was born in the deserts,” he says, as if he’d been asked, “but they’re gone now. I mostly live in the meadow, now.” Nowhere else has suited him overmuch, though he bows easy to authority, the idea of kingdom life brings him no pleasure. It’s easier to live like this, nomadic and simple, to move and swallow the dreams that sometimes come, the dreams of monsters and an abyss, white and swirling around him. rapt caius x else