(no subject)
Before Gwion fell from the tower in the Lost Land with his king, before Gwion fell into the sea, his hands would ache, sometimes, on days when rain was near.
In the Castle outside Time, his hands never hurt.
This is yet another thing to which he must grow accustomed. Admittedly there are more difficult things about this business of not quite knowing whether you are dead or alive, and only knowing for sure that you will exist in this manner for what is known to some as eternity.
(Gwion tends to try to think of himself as neither dead nor alive, but present. It seems easier, somehow.)
There are clouds in the sky, today. Not so very many, and none looking threatening, but they are enough that when Gwion comes inside from his walk, he is holding his left wrist as he proceeds to the library.
He can remember what it feels like for his hands to hurt, but only as a strange half-memory, and nothing known in the bones. This is strange. Very strange.
Strange enough for Gwion to laugh at himself as he moves (otherwise) silently down the corridor. It takes a little effort, but really -- being disturbed because he cannot feel a remembered pain seems more than a little ridiculous.
He lets his left hand drop so that he can open the door of the library with his right, and pushes.
In the Castle outside Time, his hands never hurt.
This is yet another thing to which he must grow accustomed. Admittedly there are more difficult things about this business of not quite knowing whether you are dead or alive, and only knowing for sure that you will exist in this manner for what is known to some as eternity.
(Gwion tends to try to think of himself as neither dead nor alive, but present. It seems easier, somehow.)
There are clouds in the sky, today. Not so very many, and none looking threatening, but they are enough that when Gwion comes inside from his walk, he is holding his left wrist as he proceeds to the library.
He can remember what it feels like for his hands to hurt, but only as a strange half-memory, and nothing known in the bones. This is strange. Very strange.
Strange enough for Gwion to laugh at himself as he moves (otherwise) silently down the corridor. It takes a little effort, but really -- being disturbed because he cannot feel a remembered pain seems more than a little ridiculous.
He lets his left hand drop so that he can open the door of the library with his right, and pushes.