06-30-2024, 10:20 AM
(i can’’t be saved) reaching for the life I threw away
watching as it circles in the drain
“Home sounds nice.” Lucia sighed. Her eyes half-closed, and she watched the trees pass by as Monty carried her into the heart of the Congregants’ land.
The warmth of Monty seeped into her post-swim, near-hypothermia body. Her eyes slipped shut.
Startled, she blinked when her body lurched. Took her half a second to realize Monty had to adjust his walk to a crouch in order to slip through the tunnel. Once she figured that out—and, then, the auxiliary fact that she’d drifted asleep—Lucia’s tension dissolved into relaxation. By Requiem and Vayu (no, Neandryne!) she’d pushed herself too far today, hadn’t she?
Lucia slipped into the pile of rabbit furs and soft pelts. Her bright blue fur—a visible mutation warning of her mutated neurotoxin fangs, she’d always assumed—stuck out against the white, tan, and speckled rabbit pelts. If she was to act like a rabbit in the Congregants of Genesis, at least she was surrounded by the soft and warmth of that camouflage. She snuggled beneath the covers.
Good thing she’d dried off completely already. She’d hate to ruin her bed.
“I’ll rest.” She looked up to Monty and nodded. She didn’t have to fake the yawn. By the gods (all of them), she was tired.
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