creator_raven | (no subject)

(no subject)

In the place between worlds there isn't any light.

Except, of course, when there is.

Unfortunately today does not seem to be that day (or yesterday wasn't tomorrow, one of the two, and neither, things get confused here).

The whispers are back, however, soft and sibilant and flavored with a hint of fire.

It's possibly Raven is following the memory of sulfur.

And the memory of a quiet night outside a burned-out former hospital.

And of the desert.

And blood.

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In the dark (or maybe it's the light), Adam floats.

He wonders if this is what it's like to be dead, and then figures that, if he were dead, he wouldn't much be able to wonder on it.

And then he hears the voices, and wonders if this is what it's like to go insane.

Raven could tell him that it isn't.

Raven will tell him that it isn't.

go stay safe here safe
flying space no more

home home home here stay home safe safe free

As soon as he finds him.

But it is not easy, this business of follow and not fly. flee

Nothing worth doing ever is.

Adam imagines his wrist hurts, and then imagines that it must all be in his imagination. A laugh, then, swallowed up by space and time and

nothing

and if he lets himself believe, he can almost find comfort in the vast emptiness.

Vast, yes.

Empty?

Perhaps a little less than it was a moment before.

From far away, or perhaps it is merely close and muffled, is the rough caw of a raven, echoing Adam's laugh.

The echo comes back to him, and a strange smile crosses his face and you might think it was more of a grimace if you saw it. He reaches out into the darkness and finds nothing.

Nothing finds him, in return.

Time passes. Or doesn't.

And then talons dig into his shoulder, bright black eyes watching him from a remarkably close distance.

"You are another one that is bad at staying, perhaps."

"Fuuuu-"

He opens his mouth to say something, and nothing comes out, or something comes out, but not what he intended, and he grabs on, tightly, well, as tightly as he can, given the current situation.

Feathers turn to cloth turn to skin, and Raven laces his fingers through Adam's.

"It is longer with walking, I think."

He wrinkles his nose, pulling Adam forward.

"But simpler--if you remember not to look up."

Blink.

"Or to the left, yes?"

Adam nods and he doesn't look up, he doesn't look left, he doesn't look anywhere because his eyes are clenched shut as he grabs on to Raven wherever however he can, and they're there, and they're also there, and they're over there, too.

And they're nowhere.

Sort of.

It is helpful for moving faster, at least.

Even without the feathers.

And if Raven listens to Adam breathe, it is much less easy to hear the voices.

This is something he appreciates.

It happens -- Adam breathing, that is -- even if he's not quite aware of it. But Raven is warm and Raven is SOLID, and Adam is alive, and that's one thing, at least.

And just before he passes out, he thinks, Alanna's going to kill me.

Raven makes a face at Adam's dead weight, then pauses for a brief moment to scoop him up.

He is, perhaps, not as heavy as he should be.

This might have little to do with Raven. Or it might have everything to do with Raven.

It probably doesn't matter.

They're at the door.

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