[open] rivers fall to the ocean side; any

[kensley]

KENSLEY

He has lived so many thousands of lifetimes.
(How long now since he was young? How long now since he’d blinked into existence, curled sweetly around his sister? He’s lost count.

Just as he’s lost count of how long it’s been since he stood beside Anaxarete and realized that he loved her.

He loved her.
He loves her still.

How long since he’d tried and failed to protect Keiran? How long since the child had brought absolute darkness? How long since he’d died, since he’d been reborn, since he’d become the storm?

It doesn’t matter.
It never has.)

The world has changed so many thousands of times over and the truth of it is that he’s tired. Tired of change, tired of the way time marches steadily onward. He has been alone so long now that he does not remember what it means to touch, to be touched. 

Lightning crackles across her skin, just as the thunder roils in his chest. They are two parts of the storm and there is something in this that amuses him. He almost smiles. 

“Hello,” he says and it comes out strange, stilted, as if he’s not sure any sound will come out at all. (It has been so long since he last spoke.) 

( I SWORE MY DAYS WERE OVER OF COURTING EMPTY DREAMS
I WORSHIPPED AT THE ALTAR OF LOSING EVERYTHING )