Quoted By:
There is <span class="mu-r">y</span>ou and you and your body on this level of things, though given the circumstances "level" might be strong. You have paper-mâchéd together a little pocket of order, how about that, and put a sort-of self into it. You have contained the sun into a tiny, throat-size package. All of this is safe and convenient for you. You don't or won't or can't realize that you're inside the trembling void, too, that you and you and the sun are mirrored down through— what— Ellery's subconscious? Is it even his, that deep? You are distorted and thinned and expanded down there, rendered to metaphor, so that even as you
feel the sun roll as a marble does down the greased track of your throat, leaving a trail of gently scalded flesh,
you are somewhere getting your jaws around a bright thing, planet-sized, spitting and wrestling it inside of yourself,
and even as it plops into your stomach, releasing a corona of light out through your ears and nose and eyeballs, you are
incandescent, bulging with it, squeezing it bodily into the depths of you, you gleam and you are
briefly, regretting everything— not just because you're gasping for air (your lungs are full of light), but because there's more of <span class="mu-r">y</span>ou than you and your body put together, right now. You are ecstatic for the sunlight, starving for it, twining up to suck it in, branching and leafing and flowering again— white flowers, this time, clean and beautiful. This red stuff never really fit you, did it? You're not out to bloody the world— it's foul enough as is! Oh, but sunlight— you know— sunlight's a natural disinfectant.
>[LOST: SUNSTROKE]
>[GAINED: SUNSTRUCK - ???]
You swallow. Eons below you, you swallow, too, and plunge the world into total darkness.
-
"Charlie? Primrose?"
Your father? Your father is here— is dead— is here, above you, brow knitted. He smells mainly of cigarettes. He's wearing a... a dumb sweater...
God-damnit. It's just Richard. You sit upright and cough, startling Madrigal, who's hovering some ways behind him. Earl, too. And Ellery, er— well— he's on the settee, but it looks like he's been propped there, and he's steaming out the ears a little bit. Oh dear.
"Primrose? Are you lucid?"
You smack your lips. Your mouth is ash. "Huh?"
"Well, I suppose I can..." He presses a thumb to your forehead. You bat him away. "Yeah! I'm— I'm fine. Geez. A lot of help <span class="mu-i">you</span> were— what are you doing here?"
"Was I to leave you to perish?"
"Yeah? I mean—" You make eye contact with Madrigal and Earl. "—there's company..."
"Charlie, some things in life are more important than discretion." He helps you up. "Moreover, I've already met these charming individuals, so there's not much discretion to be lost. Are you feeling well?"
(3/4)
