antreegonist | [a heart.]

Entry tags:

hearts,
ic

[a heart.]

There's a moment of nothing but light and sensation. Someone's looking you over and the scrutiny prickles and burns – it's nearly a physical pain, like fine little hooks digging past your skin, into the very meat of you. I know who you are, it says, and I know what you are, and that you don't have any business here --

“But you do,” says Mithos behind you. He's a tired, steady voice in your ear, a light hand on your shoulder. “I don't know what Dream's thinking, but everyone is welcome here in my heart; just keep in mind it's a real mess right now.”

Your vision clears.

((assume your characters wandered in here through a dream. also join #ihateyouihateyouiwanttocuddle on irc if you can!))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[. . . looks at where Mithos's hand was, for a long moment.

then takes out one of the little leaves and thinks back to — taking the memory of talking to his mother's grave, the way it felt, Mithos's teary brilliant smile when he shared it with him too — before slipping the leaf in, and closing the lid of the box.]

Oh...

The room slowly fades around you, into the top of a grassy hill at sunset. You can see doors standing at the bottom -- one on the left, one on the right.

Mithos is here: he's very tiny, about six or seven years old. He's sleeping.