“Verdammt! Listen to me!” He scrambles to his knees, plants a hand on each side of Caduceus’s shoulders, and holds himself there: hanging over Caduceus, taking in every inch of his face with a love that feels like anger. “Quit speaking in parables. I am not the bereaved at your door. I am not grieving!” His words hang over the empty plain. Caduceus blinks up at him slowly, an unreadable expression on his face. His hair fans out beneath him in all directions, settled over the earth. “Caleb,” he says, “you’re always grieving.”
Oh fuck me. That right there is a whammy line if I've ever read one. Tear me right open with these terrible truths and dawning, helpless recognition. Like, critical hit.
Comment on this calamity, this garden once was perfect
sharkinterviewee on Chapter 7 Thu 24 Mar 2022 12:32AM UTC
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