#equalityforflowers

But, no, this wasn’t that metallic-sounding. Railway spikes were a pretty old way of doing things. But, old, hmm, that reminded him of what it did sound like. What was it called again? Morris’ something? Some archaic means of communicating long distance, he vaguely remembered a kid in high school messing with it while remixing a song... Morse code!

…Not like he knew what any of the sounds even meant. The most he could recall was “dotdotdot dashdashdash dotdotdot” meaning “SOS” to signal for help. This was way more complex, and the more he tried to memorize the patterns of sound, the more they started to fade, like a car stereo in a vehicle moving away from him…

Then Parv blinked a few times and saw the plain old fabric canopy above his bed. He turned his head slightly to inspect the nearest corner of the room. He blinked again, realized he was finally actually awake, then bolted up and ran to the window to look outside. There was no bubble encircling the castle. He leaned out but from that particular spot in the central tower he couldn’t see the other side of the outer curtain wall; he was trying to check for the witchery altar that would launch the seal.

With a frantic pace he tore through the castle, going from room to room looking for any trace of a manifestation of Kerosene or… hidden dining rooms. He found neither and stopped to catch his breath after all the running. He clasped a handful of his fringe as he tried to gather his thoughts.  Then he slowly lowered his hand. Well, there was one other thing to check. Taking a deep breath, he pointed his fingers at his chest and began to push inward, through his shirt as if it wasn’t there, into his skin, eventually closing his hand around his heart…

He let it go and withdrew his hand. He wasn’t going to fully remove his… Strife’s heart. So, that was still a thing, then. Parv let out a long breath and promptly sat down on the floor cross-legged. He planted his elbows on his knees and put his head in his hands as he began to think. If he went outside and the witchery altar wasn’t there at all, did that mean he had dreamed the conversation with Lom, as well? He knew he had chosen to go to her for a neutral party who didn’t about Kerosene, and he felt that at the very least he must have talked out the incident involving Lalnable with her and asked about a way to contain both himself and Kerosene if he failed to keep control over the malevolent entity. He remembered making sure he did not mention Strife as part of the equation.

But had that incident even happened? Parv got up and ran to find the nearest mirror. He pulled his shirt up as he reached one in the sitting room off the main foyer. He ran a hand over his chest. No scars that he could see or feel. He checked his wrists. None there, either. He hesitated, but just to be sure, he stuck his tongue out as far as he could.

Shit.

There was the line of glittery green flesh Kerosene had used to reattach his tongue. Parv clapped his hand over his mouth and staggered back a step. With nothing to do but accept the reality he lowered his hand. As much as he would have preferred that to have all been a nightmare, it had happened. Yet it also meant the glowy spiraling energy he had used to heal the other areas was also really a thing.