Chapter Text
Moiety
Chapter One: Dead Man's Grip
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Kolyat's memory is like a dead man's grip.
There is the image of his father, eyes like the smooth underside of a lark, gaze turned from him. Kolyat's hand is small and forgotten in Thane's. His mother drifts across the sea, aimless. His father leaves him that night, coat smelling of moss and hollowed homes.
Overgrown and emptied out.
Years later, when Thane is pleading before him, his mother's name on his lips like the barren branches of winter, he discovers that his father looks exactly the same.
Kolyat's memory holds tight, even when his heart has already let go.