poison
There's a moment in Digory Kirke's life, a moment that comes right after his eighteenth birthday makes him grow taller a few inches and sharpens his jawline. It's a moment when a tiny spark grows alight inside of him - but it's not warm or pleasant: it's cold and hungry and consuming.
He wants to know what is forbidden, what isn't his to know.
Digory stops sleeping many nights when he thinks of the Wood Between the Worlds every passing moment. He digs through family records to find any mention of fairy blood coursing through his veins. He nearly demolishes the library in his Uncle Andrew's abandoned study looking for books that might give him an inkling of hope in returning, but not to Narnia.
No, he yearns for worlds like Charn, or even beyond - to know what lies in each and every pond. He almost runs to the garden to dig out the rings with his bare hands, but, as he's rushing down the stairs, disheveled, his clothes not ironed and his tie loose, his eyes tired, adorned with purple eyebags, fingers trembling, in a moment of tiredness, he closes his eyes and nearly trips -
- In a moment of brief drowsiness, he feels more clarity than he ever has, and his entire vision is blinded by the sight of a Lion's mane, warm but frightening. The Lion roars a roar so loud that it instantly extinguishes whatever cold fire was blooming in Digory's heart.
Digory Kirke sits at the bottom of the staircase, head buried in his hands. He's shaking ever so slightly for he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and saw the reflection of his Uncle Andrew, on the brink of madness - and that terrified him to no end.
The front door swings open quietly to reveal the figure of a tall girl with blonde hair down to her shoulder blades, peeking inside.
"Digory?" She asks, stepping inside and closing the door silently behind her.
Her heels clatter atop the wooden floors as she approaches her friend, suffering a moment of both victory and defeat.
"Digory, are you alright?" Asks Polly, taking a sit on the hard stairs and gently grabbing his hand with hers.
"What have I done?" Says Digory in nothing more than a silent whisper.
And Digory tells her everything, every little thing: from the consuming fire, to the mad search, to his uncle and, finally, to the Lion.
Polly smiles.
"You'll be alright, Digory. Aslan's protected you."
