#james1

“You’re doing that wrong.”

“Can I getcha anything?” The most unfortunate thing of all had happened. Hollie had to be a perfect host.

“You ever ask a ghost what there unfinished business is? Like why stay behind? Is it fear of the unknown? Fear of the beyond? What would possess a person to want to stay behind. Never be able to touch someone again. Never be able to eat or sleep. Just wander.”

☁︎︎☽☀︎︎☾☁︎︎

It was a cruel irony that, after years of trying to learn how to fly, it would only come to Lark after the horrible ordeal of watching the person who mattered most to him get violently ripped away. In and by the very jungle they spent so much of their time in, no less. The stress of the aftermath and the lingering heightened abilities were what compelled him toward the cliffs of the west cove today.

As time passed he’d noticed the surge of power abate. While he could no longer fly per se, his control over floating was still enhanced and he was going to take advantage of it while he still could. Maybe it would help get his mind off things for a little while. If nothing else, at least the ocean mist in his face would be refreshing.

Taking a running start he leapt, unflinchingly off the cliff face. As he did so, the air caught and cradled him like a feather with little to no effort. Where the haphazard flight back in the jungle had been horrifying, this was exhilarating, a complete trust in his element to cooperate. A perfect balance he wished, but doubted he could maintain forever. He shifted his body to guide himself to the shore instead of the water, but as he turned toward the beach he saw a figure waiting at the base of the cliff.

The figure was familiar, but not from here, not even from New York. Impossible, he thought as he drifted down to meet them. But, drawing nearer, that face was unmistakable. Was this another trick of the island? As if he hadn’t been through enough. Was he hallucinating again?

The wind laid him gently down in the sand a few yards away and he hesitantly approached the spectre of his bröther. “Let me guess, the island’s playing mind games again, that it? You look like my brother, but that’s not…” he discarded the thought, “So who are you really? Iyaz maybe? The island would make him look like James just to fuck with both of us, wouldn’t it? Balance the scales or whatever. Right then, care to enlighten me?”

There was snow still on the ground, but Cory had cleared and dried enough of a pathway to skate back and forth on. It wasn’t ideal, but it was at least something considering the shit weather. Cory kicked her foot against the floor and went flying on her board, catching the sight of someone as she did. “Hey, Potter, you ever skate?”