@divineshadows
“Two as one and one as two,” Cole calls, quiet but carrying, his toes dangling down into the air from the branch he’s perched on. Up high is better, most days, and though he hates the fright often sparked by a voice from nowhere (it isn’t nowhere, but up is a place so many people forget about), but they’ll usually be frightened no matter what he does. If he’s farther away, they tend to feel - not better, but less bad.
This will be - difficult. It isn’t their-his fault - it’s Cole’s, or, it isn’t - because that’s the problem it’s all wrapped around, and the problem of this problem especially. It’s not the same, obviously. But it’s bad enough, how tangled he gets when it isn’t too close to muddle him. He needs to be better about keeping it separate, needs to find someone to help, or to practice.
He hasn’t found anyone for that, yet, or a good way to keep what’s separate straight. It would be... better, if he had before, or if he could wait - if he-they were talking it through, if someone else was helping heal. But it’s all been pushed aside again, and - well, he’s here. So, ham-handed half-help it will be, for now.
“Is it hard, only one speaking to anyone but each other? When you have words, but pushing through means pushing past, so if you can speak sounds you’ve just swapped silences. I can hear you both, if you want.” Or if they don’t want. But it would be nice if it was helping.















