That’s nice, but

could you say it louder, or

no, just lean in a little

closer.

there.

look.

inhale.

Blog entry posted by Panmen (Takahashi Yoshiki) on 5th April 2018, 01:12AM

when: may 4, 2018. where: central park. who: @onyxfairfield

onyxfairfield:

“I’ve been standing here for less than half an hour and at least twenty five people have already thrown their wish coins into this fountain.”   Twenty five people throwing coins into this fountain every thirty minutes, every day, week in and week out was enough money to kickstart a damn movement.  Not that Onyx was inclined to do so any time soon,  but New York was full of budding businesses, of ruthless middlemen trying to make it big  -  surely one of them had taken advantage of the easy cash.  If not them,  at least the odd street kid here and there had,  lifting however many coins they could manage from the water.  As far as Onyx was concerned,  he held no sympathy for the adult that elected to yell at them and had ended up with sand in their eyes.  Cigarette pulled from his lips,  he blew the smoke upwards to watch it rise, rise, rise, and then disappear.      “Does the wish still count if the wish coin ends up in some kid’s pocket?“     Asked with no intention of getting a real answer,  but it was a thought to entertain him in the meantime.  A shrug followed and,  with a flick of his fingers,  the built-up ash on the end of his cigarette fell to the ground.     “Does anyone actually think these wishes come true in the first place?”

Ro was taking a walk in Seelie territory, trying to get the events of Beltaine out of her mind. As much as she had a love-hate relationship with the holiday, there was only so much of it she could stand. Part of her didn’t want to admit that she’d been hoping for something, but she didn’t know what. There was just this empty yearning in her chest and no words for it, no outlet either. Only what can be named can be tamed, she thought to herself, and repeated it silently in her mind. Noticing a fey from Beltaine—probably a Seelie, given the area—by the fountain, she went to go see what was going on; she heard him speak, but the first sentence had been stolen by the breeze. “I like to think that the wish comes true for the kid, then,” she mused. “And then I wonder if it does the kid a service or a hindrance. One person’s wish is another’s nightmare, after all.” Briefly, she considered his final question as she came to rest, her entire being like a predator at rest, the proud sunlight probably kicking up the fact that the Neff beanie on her head wasn’t woven with a dye, but had a certain familiar quality and texture to it, the precise shade of dried blood. “Hope dies last, as it should.”