he was promptly caught off guard by the raise of her voice, the sheer need to overpower both him and this conversation evident in the very weight of her exclamation point. his glasses slid down his nose, a reminder that he was wearing them. a reminder that he was vulnerable.
looking away, he feigned interest in the journal perched upon his lip, sly hand reaching up to remove the spectacles from unblemished face. he didn’t like to show his underbelly, had known how weak these knees were. rowing a boat for a decade would not shape that sort of muscle, could not cure that type of weakness. he was still learning to live with it, like a defect. or a haunting.
“ i just meant the, er, the general energy. in or around the car. not something you need any particular device for save perhaps a heartbeat. ”
between its passengers. it was what he meant to say, or should have said, or may have been able to express the notion with. but now was not the time. and time, no matter how circular or cylindrical or what have you, had yet to be on their side. timing itself was everything. to be honest know would only serve to contort things, and gansey had enough puzzles on his plate to sift through without adding another.
“ you wanna drive? i want to look over this more, and i feel like i’m making you antsy. ”
Rothirsch - red deer - Cervus elaphus by Olaf Kerber
You saw the god of the forest and you took pictures?
president cell phone. resident dad friend. speaking of which, proud father of that beautiful camaro lovingly named pig. it may be the realest thing about you, that car. or perhaps it’s the abandoned factory you’ve taken up residence in or the wire framed glasses you wear instead of contacts when it’s only you and your insomnia ( and ronan because companionable insomnia is the best kind of insomnia ). or it might be that marvelous small-scale model of the biggest little town in virginia, or maybe it’s the boat shoes blue despises so much. who knows. sometimes, you’re not sure you are real at all. at the very least, not as real as the psychic’s daughter or the son of a dream or the ghost who loves glitter or the study in survival you’re so stupid about. are you real? or are you made up? please don’t ask the cards. figure it out for yourself, boy. after all, what good is all your privilege, you soft, spoiled thing. if you can’t stand on your own legs ???
highly selective and private richard campbell gansey iii of the raven cycle | art credit
trc aesthetic: richard gansey the third
he was a book, and he was holding his final pages, and he wanted to get to the end to find out how it went, and he didn’t want it to be over.
How many faces do you
put on for the world?"