[open] i've been running from something, any

[rembrandt]

Rembrandt

He wonders how it’s possible. How the dark things could manipulate the magic without his noticing. How they could slip in without his perceiving them. He wonders what shape they might take, if they work their way in with the air. 

But his thoughts are scattered by the memory that creeps in unprompted. It does not belong to him and he does not fully understand this magic either. His magic has always been so limited and he has been away so long that he has forgotten all of the different ways the magic in Beqanna has mutated. It does not immediately occur to him that the memory belongs to her, that he is experiencing the memory as she had lived it.

The soft-edged shape, not quite equine but not quite anything else either as it moved from one horse to another. A sharp flash of fear, uncertainty. The unsuccessful kill. 

Rembrandt grits his teeth.

He has no means of protecting himself against these dark things. He will leave, he knows. He will go back the way he came and he will find the sun wherever it was that he lost it. There is no home left here for him. Perhaps the rest of Beqanna’s inhabitants will be forced to leave, too, he thinks. What will become of Beqanna then?

He clears his throat.

“Does it?” he asks, though he does not expect an answer. He is not as certain it will, though he supposes it does not matter as much to him as it must matter to her.

FALLING FEELS LIKE FLYING UNTIL YOU HIT THE GROUND

@[Memorie] thank you lmao

@[The Monsters] please mess with his bloodlessness!