#metamorphosize

i hope my artwork slowly turns you into a large insect and makes you lose your sense of humanity

(via https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wuzoPsaDAaA)

Shadows. Time moved like shadows, slow falling onto their atmosphere. He spent most of the time watching her, watching the time. Because there was nothing else. He was afraid. But then he was happy. Who had said that bliss was the most simple of feelings? Who had said that freedom would be burden free? A foolish man. Or perhaps a man that had not experienced it. Because here he was. And he felt the strange dark hollow of guilt and pain. She had gotten him out. It was a strange feeling, knowing that even though he had been the one with a dream of saving her from the darkness. She had been the one to save him. He hadn't believed Matthew when he told him she was alive. He had been in denial. Hannibal had killed her, he must have. But there she was. He had first seen her last night, after all the planning, all the hushed talks, and then the escape, the one thing that stuck with him was laying his eyes on her again after all this time. She had lived inside of his head. But that was a contorted figment of his imagination. His grief keeping her alive. But she wasn't flesh and blood, he couldn't feel her really. Here she was now though. And she had been the one to help him. She had gotten him out. Matthew was gone now. He had only spent the night here, where ever here was exactly. It was just a small isolated place. Far away. It made him think of the house he had, his house. It was a shrunken mirror of it. He felt comfortable here. He hadn't slept much last night. Thinking of her, of freedom, listening to Matthew talk. Because it seemed that was what he wanted to do for hours on end, talk to him. Will listened. But his mind had been far away. And then he had told him he had to leave, to keep up pretenses. But all he wanted was a moment with Abigail. All he wanted was that, even if it was only in silence. He found her then. And he stood very still as he watched her, a contrast to the shadows and shades of the house. She would always be a light no matter what or who she was. A light in his darkness. She had to be within him. They were almost the same. He took slow steps towards her, slow and hesitant. And then he placed his hand on her back. She was warm. She was alive. "Abigail..." he said her name softly. His voice did not shake. It stayed firm. But it was gentle, as was his hand on her back. Gentle. "I never got the chance to thank you..."

tshe gcig lus gcig - 1 life 1 body, animal that does not metamorphosize [IW]