( @flowofspring )
ā
ā itās too dark for this. And too cold. Breath catches in the frigid air, crystalline. His true blues squeeze shut. How he loathes the winter.
Bloody good for nothing season, he thinks, pulling his jacket tighter around his shivering frame. Today has not been a very good one- first heād forgotten one of his favorite potted succulents on the windowsill, and of course the frost had all but murdered it. Then he came in to work only to find his office thrashed and the Queenās men waiting to give him the same treatment. How was it his fault thereās been a drop in sales? No new wonders means no new business. And of course, they ended the party by destroying his favorite car. So now heās walking home, and itās been snowing for hours and now itās sleeting and heās bleeding all over himself-
He isnāt sure the extent of the damage. He only knows there were too many of them and only one of him. The blood dripping down his face has frozen, the blood soaked into his shirt is iced over, yet is he about to stop and ask anyone for help? His pride would laugh out loud if it had a voice of its own. Heās so delirious at this point he isnāt sure where he is, if heās in the south side of town or the east side of town and worse yet itās getting hard to breathe-
He stumbles on numb feet, falls to his knees. Screw this, he thinks. Heās got a bit of magick heās been saving, maybe for an emergency, maybe just for fun- no time like the present to see what it can do.
Magick dust is tossed into the blustery wind, an incantation mumbled and slurred and callooh, callay! A rabbit hole opens in the cracked street before him. There are no passers-by to be wary of, no one to watch him crawl. He only has the use of one arm, what with the other having been dislocated at the shoulder. He makes the most of it.
Almost there. Only problem, he canāt focus his vision let alone his mind, and by the time he reaches the mouth of the portal heās about ready to pass out. He isnāt thinking of home so much as heās thinking of spring, of warm weather and the bright rays of a sun heās always taken for granted. He falls headlong into the hole, unconsciousā
He must be unconscious, for he feels no pain of being dropped out the other side of the portal. And surely he must be dreaming of this sunshine, these flowers, these giant stone eggs-
āgiant stone eggs!? The last thing he sees before truly passing out are the shadows of massive, moss-covered eggs on legs closing in on him. He doesnāt have the strength left to scream.
