wu
go ahead and say death is a thief
How strange, to be read like a book and not even know it. Wu cannot feel the pry and probe of the man before him. He does not know that his emotions are stirred like a pot of honey and Reave has the first taste. Well, for sure, he knows that he is just a bit off - he knows his actions and words probably aren’t like most, he knows that his time in the trees has made him a little less.. Normal. But what could that even mean, anyway? The creature before him bears bone where skin should be - that can’t quite be normal either.
Wu’s sanity hangs by a thread, and Reave is pulling the string. It is no surprise to either of them that there is too little, too late. If Wu is so readable, his mind so easy to taste, then Reave must know how soon he will plummet into something that is ‘not quite all there’. How helpless could Wu be in the face of danger he doesn’t even know?
There is little that Wu knows outside of the woods. Even the field they stand in now is too much, too vast, too busy. Anywhere but here - an Elsewhere that Reave promises. It’s perfect, he says. And Wu imagines the shaded dark, the cool iridescent, the soft chirrups of the creatures - he imagines home (what home was, what home might be?). He imagines anywhere but here, and the best place he knows is where he was.
“I should like perfect, I think. I will follow you - show me where. Anywhere but here. ” He steps forward towards Reave, ready to leave this hellish place the Trees first spit him towards. And again, and again - he whispers under his breath anywhere but here. And again and again, he trusts this stranger (oh, how silly of you, Wu dearest). This man of bone and blood would take him somewhere better, would take him somewhere safe - somewhere the voices don’t carry, and the wind doesn’t cut, and the space is a little
Wu’s sanity hangs by a thread, and Reave is pulling the string. It is no surprise to either of them that there is too little, too late. If Wu is so readable, his mind so easy to taste, then Reave must know how soon he will plummet into something that is ‘not quite all there’. How helpless could Wu be in the face of danger he doesn’t even know?
There is little that Wu knows outside of the woods. Even the field they stand in now is too much, too vast, too busy. Anywhere but here - an Elsewhere that Reave promises. It’s perfect, he says. And Wu imagines the shaded dark, the cool iridescent, the soft chirrups of the creatures - he imagines home (what home was, what home might be?). He imagines anywhere but here, and the best place he knows is where he was.
“I should like perfect, I think. I will follow you - show me where. Anywhere but here. ” He steps forward towards Reave, ready to leave this hellish place the Trees first spit him towards. And again, and again - he whispers under his breath anywhere but here. And again and again, he trusts this stranger (oh, how silly of you, Wu dearest). This man of bone and blood would take him somewhere better, would take him somewhere safe - somewhere the voices don’t carry, and the wind doesn’t cut, and the space is a little
@[Reave]