Chapter Text
this was like a breath of icy air. all ceased talking. they felt that something was on the point of occurring.
It’s the same thing every time.
He sees rubble falling from the window and ricocheting off the street, crumbling buildings that look warped in the muted sunlight. Behind him, there’s cheers and chanting, loud enough to break through his own thoughts, ringing in his ears. He hears everything. He knows nothing.
Shapes are all he can make out, bodies swaying against candlelight, his own hands blurring on sight, everytime he tries to look at them. There’s nothing but shadows, ghosts of something that existed a long time ago and is now gone, and he chases after them, tries to grasp at anything he can. He feels like his feet are glued to the floor, eyes wide open and wild as he watches them come and go, these silhouettes he can’t quite name, can’t quite touch, can’t quite figure out. They have no features and yet they look so familiar, calling to him from behind a dam that won’t break.
He hears that voice, then, clear as a new day that never seems to come. He hears talks of war, revolution, bayonets and flags to be raised, and he says nothing.
He gets another drink.
The wine is too bitter, too red and too thick. Droplets fall from the edge of his cup, hitting the old wooden table, spreading through the veins on its surface. He closes his eyes. Feet stomp on the fragile floor, there’s a crack and a round of curses, the voice calling for order. The wine winds its way to his head, and he can’t make out words anymore.
He wakes up.