@serophs offered : i don't know what's real and what isn't .
time and time again he will be brought to the brink, and all that will be left is the sound of a babbling brook laughing effortlessly into the great blue yonder. the planets have been spun, yet their orbits are distorted, fractured. stars once whole and swollen are splattered across an ebbing black forever, a nameless void wherein chaos resides, but also where it recedes. these visions ... these glimpses, they are too much to bear for any soul, let alone that which has tasted the ichor of fallen sapphire nymphs and false gods. he hurts, she knows. he looks upon the world and hurts, she understands.
( that old place will take you. the old world once forgotten will be remembered, and you will take it into yourself, you will write up a thousand names upon your heart like a gravestone. i think they will love you still. it is hard to forget a friend. )
❛ you will know. ❜ amaterasu- ōmikami’s voice tickles not only his ears, but the very depths of his consciousness. the sound is not an intrusive one, no, instead each word and every chord strung up high is interwoven with the subtle humming of birds in the morning. with the rustling of wind, the pitter - patter of rain, the sound of white noise flowing freely from a parched metaphysical egg. she does not bend reality to her will, instead she becomes reality, she becomes the everything and the fleeting that permeates his body and mind.
she wishes he saw the stars as she felt them.
❛ when you look upon her face ... you will know. ❜