I THINK IT'S TIME THAT
YOU CRAWL BACK HOME SON
YOU CRAWL BACK HOME SON
If Eik had brushed against his mind, he would have heard more than just the vulture’s laughter -- the chorus of voices in Zion still played like a broken record, the screams and the flames crackling, the way Adriana had begged for her life, looping over and over again in the background until the tobiano had learned to just tune out the constant noise, until it almost seemed normal to never have any sense of peace within his own mind.
He wasn’t entirely sure he would recognize peace when it came to him, if it ever did so. Did other people live with their ghosts constantly haunting them, hunting them, the knife of regret in their ribs and that howling laughter a soundtrack to their life?
“Sounds like a plan.” There is something wry in the way his lips curl upwards, almost the hint of a smile except for the way his teeth still flash a warning, in the way that he is always a cornered prey animal even when he is the one hunting. For a moment, he considers his companion, and something almost like brief sanity flashes across his eye, something hinting at clarity.
“Don’t fuckin’ die out there.”
It’s the closest he comes to camaraderie before he turns with sweat already beginning to gleam on his flanks, bursting into a hard gallop that would almost certainly tax him beneath the heat of the desert -- but it would be worth it, to return to Sam all the quicker, to get them both out of this hell-hole.
“Speaking.”
He wasn’t entirely sure he would recognize peace when it came to him, if it ever did so. Did other people live with their ghosts constantly haunting them, hunting them, the knife of regret in their ribs and that howling laughter a soundtrack to their life?
“Sounds like a plan.” There is something wry in the way his lips curl upwards, almost the hint of a smile except for the way his teeth still flash a warning, in the way that he is always a cornered prey animal even when he is the one hunting. For a moment, he considers his companion, and something almost like brief sanity flashes across his eye, something hinting at clarity.
“Don’t fuckin’ die out there.”
It’s the closest he comes to camaraderie before he turns with sweat already beginning to gleam on his flanks, bursting into a hard gallop that would almost certainly tax him beneath the heat of the desert -- but it would be worth it, to return to Sam all the quicker, to get them both out of this hell-hole.
“Speaking.”
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