☼ • — sincere though he is about his convictions when it comes to the benefits of psychedelic drugs , christopher haas has done ketamine but ONE TIME in his many years of experimentation , & that time was both the first & what he decided would be his very LAST . he wouldn’t have taken it if he’d known what it was at the time — people may have referred to the spiritual gardener as a new - age hippie , but forgive him if he doesn’t understand how dosing a HORSE TRANQUILIZER could be fun or enlightening in ANY sort of atmosphere — but after coming out of it with his health intact , he supposes he should be grateful for the opportunity to discover the fact that he definitely does NOT enjoy it . he recalls several vivid , sensory details from that night , that TRIP , but perhaps the most poignant was how it felt to WALK . to MOVE . dissociated , numb , as though his body were entirely capable of perpetual motion & yet it wasn’t HE who was at the controls . he remembers HATING that feeling : in a matter of minutes , the body he’d spent years learning to love & appreciate & find harmony with was suddenly & wholly apart from him , an entirely separate entity . he couldn’t FEEL anything . never in his life had he felt so relieved to COME DOWN , to find a clear mind & nothing in this world could ever convince him to try it again . it’s been years ; he still has not .
& yet , as he stumbles now , barefoot & clumsy through the thick foliage that lines the floor of a sprawling , labyrinthine forest , he REMEMBERS . oh stars , does he remember . it must be the adrenaline — it has to be , he should hardly be able to STAND right now , much less WALK — because he’s moving forward somehow , slow but steady , & he doesn’t feel ANYTHING . he doesn’t feel FEAR ; no matter what crops he can provide them , the sheer RISK it would pose to search for him now would kill more men than he doubted they’d consider him WORTH . ( & if they did find him , what could they do to him that they had not ALREADY done ? ) he doesn’t feel his knee , not in spite of FORCING the already - injured patella past swelling & bruising back into its socket after the pearl street guardian PUNISHED him for his first attempt at escape . he doesn’t feel his feet , not for their blisters & cuts as he scrambled desperately into the treeline on the outskirts of boulder , as he continues to RUSH even now that there is no one chasing behind him . all he knows is that he is moving FORWARD , moving HOME ; that he cannot stop until he makes it there . & that — that he feels in his HEART .
but he DOES stop , still miles & miles & miles away from lyons , from the manor . not because he wants to , not because he NEEDS to , but because he HAS to . because he wouldn’t put it past his eyes to deceive him , not NOW , but he would swear he just caught a glimpse of a familiar tigerlily red , hidden but STRIKING amid an earthy backdrop of mosses & bark . & the perpetual motion , it seems , cannot withstand a wandering gaze , a stray , poignant thought . they’d met in a spot much similar to this . oh , how nice it would be to see him now . a trick of the eyes , a trick of the MIND , & suddenly he’s caught his foot on a vine , an overgrown root — SOMETHING — because he’s crashing into thistle & grass , a sharp , unforgiving cushion . was it just wishful thinking ? he swallows hard , pushes himself up a few inches & glances around . ❝ austin ? ❞ ( @saevioism )
IT DOESN’T EXIST, his home away from home. austin could recall the cool winter nights spent under dim, fading lights ; his siblings were always there, and no matter how much they may have loathed, blamed, or run away, they were his home away from home. under canvas tents made by scrappy, boisterous children, austin found his home, his safety. looking back at it now, it isn’t hard to come to the conclusion that austin makes homes out of people, despite the clear trust issues that have become so deeply embedded in him. it’s a part of his problem ; the fallacy of wanting to love but being so deeply fucking terrified of it that you build your walls up so high that only the TRULY valiant and courageous could climb over. he knew this, could acknowledge each turn on the map and return it was an essay on why love was still bullshit despite how much he LONGED for it. & really, there was something in that, something profoundly stupid, yet brilliantly understood by nearly everyone, especially these days.
& now — well, now was no different. now, almost two years into the outbreak, austin was still the same kid deep down. still yearning for what he can never have, still blocking himself and preventing himself from getting what he truly wanted. it was a vicious cycle, one that he often DREAMED of breaking, but could never even begin to dare to do. of course, there were the exceptions to the law, the people who were brave enough, who traversed the fog and stepped into the battle ring with armor, ready to let him know that love, trust, and happiness was still possible. IT WAS ALL POSSIBLE. & among those warriors ? well, he supposed that while the list was still short, it was growing — & that in itself was a victory. italia, oona, & hal . . . none of them were a part of his plan, none of them were meant to be people he would learn to care for, and yet here he was, returning the favor, traversing the fog, and simply trying to find some semblance of peace in any of their faces.
leaves CRUNCH under the weight of his boots — there’s a sense of urgency, a need to get from point a to point b before ALL IS LOST, and it pains him to think of things like that. like & death — oh, how it used to feel so mundane, so normal to him. he used to fight the reaper off, but only for himself and no one else. now, he trecks through land and water, forest and city to hopefully find each and every single one of them. one by one, austin's patience to ensure their safety is nonexistent and his feet begin to carry his faster. somewhere in between a walk and a run, austin finds his peace, maintains a steady pace. it’s comfortable, and luckily for him, he strays from the path of the dead for the most part, at least, for now. soon, he knows, they’ll be on their way, spreading their deadly rampage throughout boulder.
austin is sure to take advantage of their path of destruction, and right now, he’s already begun his journey. step by step, he’ll get there, surely. but as the rhythm of his movements become a constant, something else within the forest is thrown off, the balance is LOST. there’s footsteps of another, something UNKNOWN, and as austin draws near to it, it becomes harder to ignore. they sound drags on, the question of just what it could be continues to grow into an itch that austin can’t quite reach — & boy is he ever curious. then, there’s something he can’t quite explain ; a THUD, no gunshot, no thump of a baseball bat against a skull. it had to be living, right ? austin stood still for a moment, the realization settles in. of course, the dead were clumsy beings, but still, something about the sound told him that it had to be ALIVE. & sure enough, as he continued walking, there was a rustling of leaves and the soft mumble of his own goddamn name — & moreover, the voice is a familiar one, sure enough.
there’s a moment of sheer terror that consumes his soul, worry running rampant through his veins. it’s topher, IT HAS TO BE. but he didn’t sound like his normal self, and that was his main concern. eyes scanned his surroundings carefully and he walked closer to the source. ❝ toph ? ❞ austin calls back.
