#happy birthday...

Onyx quills obscure a piece of the sight, blotting rubies and reflecting golds that shimmer beneath darkness.

Slowly, that figure turns—

❝What do you remember?❞

— ;; —And the voice doesn't match the mouth the words seem to belong to. Gruff, irritably hateful, but currently uncharacteristically soft.

❝Come back to me. What can you remember?❞

— ;; Eyes adjust to the soft fluorescent lights that they've become properly akin to, assisting in landing a floaty mind back down to Earth.

❝...Hallways. Stars. People... I-I know those people.❞

❝Who are they?❞

❝Scientists. Researchers... they knew Gra... Gerald.❞

— ;; Scribbling. Intricate penmanship curls and loops onto detailed documents, taking down each note thoroughly.

❝What else did you see?❞

❝My body is melting.❞

❝Melting?❞

❝I'm turning into alluvium. I can't feel my arms. My legs are already gone.❞

❝That's a normal feeling. You aren't melting, your brain is adapting. Try to focus. Tell me what else you saw.❞

❝Black and red and gold.❞

❝Shadow?❞

❝I don't know.❞

❝How did seeing it make you feel?❞

❝Happy, I think. Relieved. Kinda annoyed.❞

— ;; Scrawling, continued within the notes, overrides the buzzing hums of background machinery. A hand, delicate and surprisingly encouraging, lowers to ruffle between perky ears.

❝You're doing quite well. Gerald would be proud of you.❞

❝Can I go home?❞

❝Where is home, pray tell?❞

❝Home... home is...❞

— ;; Squeezing wide, stinging eyes shut, washed over by a wave of startling realization, the effects of reality finally start to return.

❝Home is where Sonic is... and Amy, and Knuckles... a-and... everyone else. We have to finish the machine right this time. I don't... wanna do this. It hurts my head.❞

— ;; Billowing sigh passing through clenched teeth, shoulders drop and eyes focus on finishing what's been penned down.

❝The connection's still quite fickle... hm. Good enough for today, I suppose.❞ Turning, stepping out, that once ginger voice now rings with ire and impatience in rhythm with footsteps. ❝We'll pick up in a few more days.❞

— ;; Left to the preying jaws of silence, quivering hands clench in and out of fists to regain feeling, wide eyes staring down into their palms.

Reality, the understanding of what had happened, finally sets in.

❝Again?❞

— ;; Melting to the floor onto knees, promptly collapsing into fetal position against cold concrete, overwhelming tears cloud hysterical vision.

— ;; Erroneously led, strung along this far for an ultimate purpose. Yet, still clinging to the delusion that somehow everything is genuine. That someday, Sonic's emerald eye will meet his dull azures once again.

At what point did it become a nuisance? ... No, the correct question was 'when it wasn't'. Things that she couldn't answer, and she honestly stopped caring about long ago. Spread sheets over the floor, got up slowly and watched the sun through the window. Damn dawn, she thought.

It didn’t took long to change, after all her outfit reflected her state of mind, simple and without any interest in showing off. A purple skirt and that's it. Nith walked to the nearest bathroom, got her face wet, and left.

For someone with such domain over the wind, his lungs scream for more air, air that they are unable to take.

And yet, he maintains himself atop the lighthouse, redirecting the red mist as he had been all night long.

He hears the distant helicopter flying, notices its light. They are filming him. He swallows.

Repetitive noises. Cameras. Television screen.

He closes his eyes then, trembling where he stands, and does an exercise his therapist recommended.

How's the weather, Yoarashi-kun?

"Sunny. I make it windy."

What day is today, Yoarashi-kun?

"September 26th. It's thurs-"

Inasa blinks. September 26th.

He takes a deep breath as he redirects some more wind to move the incoming mist. His voice, when he opens his mouth, is low, hoarse, and attempting to sing-song.