I chanced upon Master Merosiel a few hours into my Unoffical leave.
I was with Intention to the bank, but I did not make it there. Instead, I took him to the Inn nearby where I was staying, because he looked so Lost and tired. He was startled to see me, too. I think, though, now that we have Talked already, he is no longer Hiding and so there was just Surprise and not Dread at our meeting on accident.
He smelled like flowers and cider and Dead Things, but I did not ask. It is not my place, asking, even when there are Questions and someone to ask for once.
I had missed him. There is something Different about his behavior, and I am worried. He talks slowly, and there are no smiles, even ones with teeth. Is he dying, after all? I am worried. He seems to be eating. His face is Not So Thin now, just thin, and more like it used to be, sharp and Nice but not like a Dead Thing.
He was barefoot. This is Troubling, too. Such a flimsy robe. It is very Cold now, there is always snow even when the streets are kept clear. I do not mind Cold, but he is a Warm Person and likes Warm Things, so why is he barefoot? There are no gloves, either, and his hands were as Cold as mine. He fell asleep almost as soon as he laid down. I am afraid to touch him. But he is Cold, and that is a Bad Thing for him. I asked the Innkeeper for More Blankets and he is Warm again. I am afraid to touch him. I am Cold.
Should I?
Although there is no outward indication of any lengthy time between the previous line and the next, it is perhaps easy to imagine that there was a considerable pause before the entry is resumed.
His stomach has moth wings in it. There was a shifting inside him and it made me think of that for some reason. Very Light.
Then there was Feeling and not just feeling; it is a person, I forgot this, not moth wings or anything else Light. It is Ours.
I stayed like this a Long Time, palm pressed to him and the shifting inside. It did not hurt to Feel.
The next boat will be soon. I must be at the docks. I do not want to work or Work. This is... a Bad Thing?
I keep thinking about the Not Moths.
I am overwhelmed.
I was with Intention to the bank, but I did not make it there. Instead, I took him to the Inn nearby where I was staying, because he looked so Lost and tired. He was startled to see me, too. I think, though, now that we have Talked already, he is no longer Hiding and so there was just Surprise and not Dread at our meeting on accident.
He smelled like flowers and cider and Dead Things, but I did not ask. It is not my place, asking, even when there are Questions and someone to ask for once.
I had missed him. There is something Different about his behavior, and I am worried. He talks slowly, and there are no smiles, even ones with teeth. Is he dying, after all? I am worried. He seems to be eating. His face is Not So Thin now, just thin, and more like it used to be, sharp and Nice but not like a Dead Thing.
He was barefoot. This is Troubling, too. Such a flimsy robe. It is very Cold now, there is always snow even when the streets are kept clear. I do not mind Cold, but he is a Warm Person and likes Warm Things, so why is he barefoot? There are no gloves, either, and his hands were as Cold as mine. He fell asleep almost as soon as he laid down. I am afraid to touch him. But he is Cold, and that is a Bad Thing for him. I asked the Innkeeper for More Blankets and he is Warm again. I am afraid to touch him. I am Cold.
Should I?
Although there is no outward indication of any lengthy time between the previous line and the next, it is perhaps easy to imagine that there was a considerable pause before the entry is resumed.
His stomach has moth wings in it. There was a shifting inside him and it made me think of that for some reason. Very Light.
Then there was Feeling and not just feeling; it is a person, I forgot this, not moth wings or anything else Light. It is Ours.
I stayed like this a Long Time, palm pressed to him and the shifting inside. It did not hurt to Feel.
The next boat will be soon. I must be at the docks. I do not want to work or Work. This is... a Bad Thing?
I keep thinking about the Not Moths.
I am overwhelmed.
0 whispers:
Post a Comment