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“What’s even up there? All the interesting stuff is down here.”
“There are stars!” And Isa sounds so, so excited to answer with that.
“So?”
This conversation tastes sugar-smoke familiar, but you can’t criticize it. The ache-urge in your chest colored that visceral shade you remember from the copper-caramel taste in your mouth always tries to get you to feel anger, rage, a surefire determination to fix what has gone forgotten, but that’s the shade that drove the King mad, and you don’t want to be some kind of ghost of him—it would be too easy. He reflects you, in your worst moments, but you aren’t allowed to carry glass anymore, so you aren’t allowed to carry him, either.
(Weeks after the end of everything, the party finds an abandoned observatory.)
Bookmarked by pancake_void
05 Jul 2025