paid in youth // { will | day 7
Jul 31, 2020 21:17:12 GMT -5
Post by aya on Jul 31, 2020 21:17:12 GMT -5
on the other side will i be reminded?
paid in youth
counting up the costs for the time rewinded
paid in youth
counting up the costs for the time rewinded
It's colder tonight. Could be the lost blood. Could be the shock. Could be the fog or the maritime breeze. Could be the freshly-torn holes eaten away from his cloak. Mace, not moths.
He should burn Lysander Mae's body too.
It wasn't that long ago that he'd stoked a bonfire here on the beach: both punch-drunk and the regular kind, with Terra and Helle egging him on over JJ's apprehensive attempt to reign in the wealth-winning festivities. Feels like a lifetime ago, though the anthem confirms it wasn't — at least they were alive this morning.
He can still find them. He knows they won't want to see him, not even if he tells them he's sorry for leaving, but does it matter if they don't forgive him? If he makes his camp right next to theirs, would they try to chase him off? Would JJ huddle up in his tent alone? Would Terra sneak over to slit Will's throat in his sleep? He should think so, but he's dumb enough that he doesn't.
When he's done staunching the bleeding and after he's set his broken bones, Will realizes he's lost her body. Either it's hidden somewhere in the mist or it's been carried away by hovercraft before the Johnwayne boy could pull another fast one on the Gamemakers. It's just as well. Lysander Mae doesn't understand Meredith's kind of mercy and so she does not deserve Meredith's fate.
He doesn't know what would've awaited him if she'd managed to split his face all the way open, or what Lysander Mae's morning will look like. It's hard not to be spiteful, to wish that death would be enough to get through to her, but... the reality is it doesn't matter. It never mattered. He knows better than to put any stock in what people think of him; they'll open with trustworthy and it'll all go to shit in a flash.
The flower he gathered all those days ago rolled up in some notebook paper and slowly smoldering in his mouth, Will tries to turn his mind off for the evening. Keep himself company.
Absently, he pulls out the bag of bone dice for another game of Dueling Twelves, something pass the time. He draws up a new score table in his notebook. Four columns across the top again: Will | JJ | Helle | Terra. He rolls for everyone. Boxcars, Boxcars, Boxcars, Boxcars...
