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You’d find me. You always do.
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I should always get to be me!
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Meet you down the river.
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Learn to breathe again.
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They spoke three languages between them, and there weren’t enough words to convey what they’d take to the grave, what they’d had a chance to taste before fate inevitably closed in.
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We come from a distant past. We are long dead, but you can still see our projections through space and time, like the light of dead, distant stars. But when that light passes through your soul, it bends…it transforms according to your magic.
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“Why do you want me?”
“You rescue lost people for a living. Is it any wonder you found me?” -
“I CANNOT FIX THE HOUR, OR THE SPOT, OR THE LOOK OR THE WORDS, WHICH LAID FOUNDATION. IT IS TOO LONG AGO. I WAS IN THE MIDDLE BEFORE I KNEW I HAD BEGUN.”
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“THE PAST IS ONLY A MEMORY. MEMORIES HAVE NO POWER TO HURT YOU.”
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“YOU DON’T BELIEVE IN MAGIC, THEN?”
“OF COURSE,”, SHE SAID, “BUT JUST BECAUSE I BELIEVE IN ONE KIND OF MAGIC, IT DOESN’T MEAN I HAVE TO BELIEVE IN THEM ALL.”
