haravatits: (pic#16347997)
π’Ώπ“Šπ“ˆπ“‰ 𝒢 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝒷𝓁𝑒 π“ˆπ’Έπ’½π‘œπ“π’Άπ“‡ ([personal profile] haravatits) wrote in [personal profile] indigently 2023-05-21 03:03 am (UTC)

[ stone by stone, alhaitham builds a mountain from kaveh's wounds. the little pebble pile takes up less than a few centimeters of space on the low dining table. the human body, however, was not designed to accommodate even that many little stones. kaveh nods, and alhaitham reads into the motion the future: the bazaar tomorrow, kaveh spending money on trivial little trinkets of art, updates on the latest gossip on treasures street, a small waiting line of people explaining the myriad of ways kaveh should have kept his hard-earned fortune, a handful of keychains in exchange for mora meant to feed orphans. what it really means: a distraction. their inkwells will fill. the hollowness in kaveh will fill. that does not mean, however, that if given the same circumstances, kaveh would not choose the same things over again. it does not mean that alhaitham's hands stop.

next, the antiseptic. the cork on the little, colourless vial is popped. the scent of the bimarstan wafts in proximity. kaveh presses his fingers into his knee. his knuckles are the colour of a small, bright-hot star. alhaitham replaces the tweezers for another pair.
]

Were you expecting not to be? [ is alhaitham's rhetorical question. it addresses both: body, and spirit. the trials and tribulations of being dragged across a beaten rainforest path versus the mental fortitude it had taken to debate the ghost of a madman. but what alhaitham says is thus: ] Do you regret the decisions you have made?

[ and then, because this is alhaitham, he adds, in that selfsame tone: ] Cotton pads. Two of them.

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