Blue was not aware of the revivals and was not vigilant for this return. He didn't know to wait. He had a choice not to; his body felt light, young again...with guilt and grief at his heels, he moved against it. Against inaction. Against sleeping through strife. Away from pieces of borrowed memories he knew he had to thread to his own...but only for a little while.
What it all came down to was a simpler want: He wanted to fly.
Fly, not flee. Not chase. Not search. Not beset by warplanes or gunfire, not straining to reach another lost soul...Another.
In realizing he could not escape those awful feelings, he realized he'd been fleeing the whole time. Shameful. It stopped him mid-flight, weighed down his limbs, and exposed him to those many-dozen frustrations anew. He knew better than to wallow in the what-ifs. He knew. He'd known for so many years. He knew better than to naively question why it would be any different time and time again, yet even so it–
It was a heartbeat of awareness, a sensory flash. Color and sound and a chill...Appropriate in an unkind way, that cold. Yet cold did not linger where adrenaline stepped in.
Blue was no gentle, drifting light. He was haste and wind and the bright flash of power surging with a fresh purpose. He was a gust kicking up the dust and small debris of the street he descended upon, landing hard, feet sliding to a stop. He was breathless and wide-eyed, bristled and desperate.
He was seeing what he'd sensed, and it was no trick of the mind.
SOON. but i guess not...that soon...
What it all came down to was a simpler want: He wanted to fly.
Fly, not flee. Not chase. Not search. Not beset by warplanes or gunfire, not straining to reach another lost soul...Another.
In realizing he could not escape those awful feelings, he realized he'd been fleeing the whole time. Shameful. It stopped him mid-flight, weighed down his limbs, and exposed him to those many-dozen frustrations anew. He knew better than to wallow in the what-ifs. He knew. He'd known for so many years. He knew better than to naively question why it would be any different time and time again, yet even so it–
It was a heartbeat of awareness, a sensory flash. Color and sound and a chill...Appropriate in an unkind way, that cold. Yet cold did not linger where adrenaline stepped in.
Blue was no gentle, drifting light. He was haste and wind and the bright flash of power surging with a fresh purpose. He was a gust kicking up the dust and small debris of the street he descended upon, landing hard, feet sliding to a stop. He was breathless and wide-eyed, bristled and desperate.
He was seeing what he'd sensed, and it was no trick of the mind.