#comehome

…to sever them from nothing…

Eyes continue to flutter and it isn’t long until their hand turns and grasps onto the one pressing blood out, the droplets, rather than dripping into a void, stain The House’s carpet

tangible again

*It lets out another sound, softer this time, more caring; relief.*

Lookatme.

G̷i̶v̵e̷ ̸x̶e̵m̷ ̵a̸ ̶s̶e̷c̶o̴n̷d̵.̶.̸.̶

Please.

Breathe.

What use is pain to something…someone…that doesn’t exist

Eyes flutter and roll behind shut eyelids

Fingers twitch and nearly grasp at the…thing… that marks behind its hand

*They begin to hum. Tilting their head slightly as they work, before they finish carving. And begin to whisper over it, the distortions in the House get worse, as if something was listening... absorbing... consuming. Trying to prevent this.*

I̸ ̶c̴a̵n̷ ̵s̶e̵e̸ ̶y̷o̵u̷.̷

I̴ ̴k̸n̸o̸w̷ ̶y̴o̴u̵'̵r̴e̷ ̸h̸e̸r̵e̵.̶ ̴Y̷o̴u̷ ̶h̷e̷l̸p̷e̴d̶ ̴m̸e̷.̷.̵.̵ ̴l̶e̸t̵ ̴m̶e̴ ̴r̷e̴t̵u̷r̶n̸ ̵t̴h̷e̶ ̸f̵a̸v̶o̷r̷.̵

*With the final incision made, they press their fingers against the wound, just slightly, enough to cause the blood to form.*

F̶r̶e̷e̷t̸h̵e̷m̷.̴

*Grief, powerful and clarifying seems to absorb the area. Palpable, yet... different; this grief is no longer whole. No, it is sliced clean from itself like all things in the end. And it's beingmadeintosalvation*

So close and yet so far

How fortunate to have a friend with so many eyes…to see that which does not exist

And to SEVER THAT FROM NOTHING ITSELF

*It lets out a desperate sound. One that can only be described as grief if it were capable. Maybe that grief is what was needed. A flicker– something else.*

Y̵o̸u̴'̴r̷e̴ ̴b̶r̴o̵k̵e̶n̴.̶

̴B̶u̸t̴ ̸I̸ ̵w̴o̴n̴'̶t̷ ̷l̸e̷t̸ ̸y̴o̵u̴ ̷b̴e̵ ̷l̵o̷s̷t̵ ̴f̴o̵r̷e̶v̴e̷r̷.̷

J̸u̴s̷t̶-̴ Holdon–

*What foreign, fickle thing... which thinks it can save, something broken, something which may only know death.*

Y̵o̸u̵ ̷w̴i̴l̵l̶ ̵l̸i̸v̵e̵.̴ ̸I̵ ̷g̵i̴v̴e̸ ̵m̶y̵ ̶w̸o̷r̵d̵.̴

W̸a̴k̵e̸u̵p̸.̵

Lookatme.