bird, make not a nest of a spider’s web ✷ heron + eden
mwxheron
kyungsoo opens his eyes to wet grass soaking into his clothes, stars spilled out over the sky, the distant sound of ocean meeting shore. his name rings loud through the air. his powers. his age. in the dim line of light over the horizon, he watches dust settle into dusk. the light grows infinitesimally thinner. he lies there in the open, staring at a single speck of dust drifting down towards him. when it comes too close for him to focus on it any longer, he looks at another. is this the way dust settles into dust, and ash into ashes? so nondescriptly, so calm, so unrecognized and unmemorable?
his eyes burn at the injustice. there were boys here who deserved entire memorials erected in their names, settled into the dirt the same way invisible, inanimate particles hovered unacknowledged in the air. he bites his lip: he did not come here to ponder them.
the dust settles and settles until all trace of light disappears behind the edges of the ocean. kyungsoo inhales, shallow. exhales, slowly and deeply. deflates. the webs are sticky against his back, but at least they were unnoticed. grab the backpack, sling it over your shoulder. get up on your feet. blink away the fire and push it into your fists. he throws a punch into the air, wondering how much dust has been derailed by this single, half-hearted maneuver. the grass rustles when his feet move. walk. you are alive.
matted down by sweat, his bangs fall over his forehead. he pushes them back as far as he can and swallows the taste of blood coating his tongue. blink away the fire, push it into your fists. he listens to the steady rhythm of grass parting in his wake, feels the cold spot in his throat as he inhales. he trudges forward into the woods, as deep as he can go before he stumbles over his own heel for the third time, until the vibrations in the air and the ground feel absent of life. setting down his bag, he climbs into the nearest tree and spins a simple web in a space between this tree and the adjacent one, mostly concealed by thick canopy. too tired to set up camp properly, he tosses a strand of silk down and fishes for his backpack, pulling it up before tossing it into a corner of his half-assed hideout. the branches shake with the vibrations of the web. as he leaves, he nearly tumbles out of the tree, landing on the ground more noisily than he’d like.
his fist clenches. it’s as if he isn’t even trying. biting down hard on his bottom lip, he rubs his eyes. think strategy, think strategy. glancing up at his web one last time to check that it’s secure, he silently makes his way out of the woods and towards the nearest group of abandoned buildings.
