LL cont’

[markofkaine]

[Bad ideas. That’s what Rafael was famous for. Sometimes those bad ideas would pan out into groundbreaking technologies. Other times it would blow up spectacularly in his face - and by extension, all faces adjacent. Not that it ever stopped him from coming up with more.

This one, though. A bridge too far.

Aracha - if that really could be called his name anymore - sat, hunched over, cycling a trinket between his fingers as though in a trance. It felt like the slow, tactile motion was the only thing still keeping him grounded to reality (again, questionable). His mind was… far, far away, in a place that might not even exist anymore, lost. But more than that, alone, in a vast, empty field of deaf, silent rage. And that cold silence seeped into every crack in his brain, filling the folds of his thoughts, the hollow space in his bones, the pockets in his lungs.

He wasn’t real. He wasn’t real. None of this was real. He knew that now.

At some point, his fiance was going to walk through the door and find him sitting at the foot of their his bed. And one way or another, this lie would be shattered.]