Work Text:
| 8 months earlier |
[ A tremble plays upon the lids that cover irises in the colour of the Mediterranean sea in the spring, with waves breaking, crashing against the shores and breeze dancing with the foam that floats and floats away... ]
"Am I dead?"
"Don't be stupid." [ The mouth says to him and it's a muffled whisper echoing around clenched teeth. ]
"Then?"
"Then nothing. You're caught in here for a while."
"Who are you?" [ A short hum is there to vibrate upon the teasing curve of a smile while the dark from under his lids is suddenly morphing into a hazy white; thick must; enveloping fog. He is himself; standing in the middle of the suffocating, white vapours, covering his eyes with his arm, dressed in a plaid shirt and brown trousers, without glasses. His simple self. ]
"Forgot me so soon, Will?" [ He hears the voice closer, rummaging through his mind, dancing around the connections between his neurons. ]
"What?" [ When he looks, he sees a mysterious silhouette evading from the heavy drapes of fog that surround them and seem to deposit on his shoulders and through the unruly, curly tresses of his hair. ]
"Hi, Will." [ He feels something at his feet and when his gaze falls upon the foggy floor there is F e r n wrapping securely around his feet. ]
"Abigail." [ A short sigh of relief as his irises rest their tired stare upon the known figure, quetly leaving his eyes scrutinise contours. He wants, ne needs to move, but there is a small thug at his feet and he notices the Fern tightly circling around his calves; he is unable to move. ]
"Yes, Will?"
"What is this?"
"Your fascination."
"My... fascination?"
"For him." [ Will's stare surrenders again and embraces the picture of his legs being clutched by the green Fern which moves and snakes with grace, leaves trembling softly and creating a ruffling sound, resembling the wild forest in autumn; a golden autumn like that that brought him and Abigail together. ]
"He sent you?"
"I've been in here all the time. Scary place, sincerely."
"Abigail... What happened?"
"Nothing. I just came to see you. I need you to wake up and go search him." [ The glisten from Will's eyes fades to a dull, lifeless sparkle, the lone light to mark the lack of understanding and his genuine confusion. He opens his mouth, moves his lips, but the words fall back into his mind with a gentle thud, the sounds trapped into his own chest. The fog dissipates and there is no breeze; only white infinity, immaculate white that is both blinding and soothing. Then he can see red flourishing the girl's bare feet, generous red flowers of C h r y s a n t h e m u m. They bloom with slow motions, petal after petal bending and molding in a hypnotising game, adorning the white. Soon, the entire floor is carpeted with rich flowers of red Chrysanthemum. ]
"Devotion. This is his devotion, Will." [ He tries to speak again and his words are mere whispers in the immense white around him. He can hear a soft thud; as if something small fell upon the layers of petals that tickle his fingers and gently hug his legs. ]
"Wake up. This is his gift for you." [ The silhouette disappears and he extends a hand, makes a step; when he looks down with panic ruling over his thoughts and confusion framing his crystals, the Fern disappeared and so did the red veil of petals. He raises his gaze and the white is not there anymore. There is a diffuse, frail light upon him and black, unending, vivid black, without a beginning or and ending; simple black. He can hear now waves, water; and there is indeed water flooding at his feet, pulsating in small movements and drawing circles around his legs; a mass of black water. The last words of the girl resonate against the walls of his skull with a soft throb. And when he looks down at the black water that reaches his knees he sees upon its dark, unmoving surface something floating; A c o r n. ]
A soft gasp escapes the empath's lips,
as if trying to breathe after being a long time under water;
a doctor is soon next to him;
he still feels the water embracing him and
the black seeping through his clothes,
marching against his naked skin.
"How are you feeling?"
"Thirsty..."
And he wants to laugh,
but he can't. He is thirsty for more,
even if that means eventually the black waters will capture him.