A new array of birds serenaded the young man sleeping within the pre-war wreckage. Small, ragged holes in the roof allowed golden splotches of sunlight to dance across his face. A shrill call from a whippoorwill stirred the boy, though aching knees and inflamed palm goaded him to fully wake. The exile's eyelids refused to open, but Adonis had always been a mule on two legs. He was an ass to the core, only ever listening to the voice in his head- and as of right now? It said he needed to get the hell out of there; visions of food wrenched his gut into knots.
The little he was given only got him so far…
Ado massaged cement from his eyes with his knuckles and aching arm. Strings grew taut around his neck as his forearm pressed to his face. His injured digits still wrapped protectively around the pendant he'd somehow forgotten about, before forcibly relaxing his fingers. The muscles initially denied him, creaking and popping in and out of the position they'd been locked in for however long he'd wasted unconscious. The scabbing that healed around his punctures tore with the removal of the dirtied, oblong aventurine; dots of both crusted and fresh blood greeted the human while he returned a dim stare. His gaze slowly regained focus, watering from a discomfort that would forever be denied.
Blue Jays squawked in the distance, startling the young man through his grogginess. The hunk of metal he sat in was an oxidized sepia, marred with muddied orange blots. In front of him, to the left, was what remained of the steering wheel- still embedded loyally within the dash. It was a crumbling crescent of sharp, dull-colored chartreuse plastic, wrapped around pure rust. If he were to touch it, the thing would surely cough dust and disintegrate before his very eyes. He looked out the window- or what had once been one. He eyed the trees that looked so ominous and malevolent the night before now danced gently in the March breeze. Ado was surrounded by pines and oaks; who knows what else. The sky peaked through the canopy, vibrant and blue with clouds white as ever, reminding him just how dark it had been. Fear made the world so eerie and ugly, but now? "Maybe, I have a chance at this;" the multitude of clouds flushed away that empty feeling the vast, empty sky usually gave him. Hope and happiness were often fleeting, but on that same note, so was pain. "It'll pass. It's okay, it is."
It had to be.
Ado rested, feeling the dirt under the seat of his shorts, grounding himself into this new reality of his. The fingers of his left hand stroked and tugged at the thick blades of grass at his side. The bruises on his palms were sore, but the stinging gashes on his right hand kept him from minding the minor abrasions. Turning his head, a sharp sting kept him from being able to admire the large, gangly magnolia tree on the other side of the glade. He'd slept on it wrong; he knew-
Wait.
Irritation and disbelief flooded him while an exasperated grimace graced his face. Rather than sleep being evasive, it hounded him until he had no choice but to obey. Life had always been this way, a tango of wishing for relief on long sleepless nights, then finding himself forced upon exhaustion when every piece of him needed to remain alert.
Adonis swallowed the dry lump in his throat, sighing in contempt from the depths of his very being. The young man rested his head on the sickeningly moist, moldering seat, ignoring how his flesh crawled, begging- screaming for him to rip it off and wring out this disgust like filthy water from a sponge. Mid-morning heat oozed over the exile; perspiration worked as an adhesive for the clothing and hair that melded to him. Releasing the necklace fully from his fingers, Ado continued to stretch his digits open and closed while he leaned forward. He grunted quietly and removed his overshirt, "If someone sees me like this, I'm as good as dead."
Ado attempted to hide from the barrage of thoughts that inevitably came from perceiving the prison he was forced to bear. The fabric of his short-sleeve button-down peeled off his back, damp sleeves curling around his arms.
Frowning gravely, his mind wandered to the Beastmen that nearly crossed him the night before.
He'd never heard an animal create a noise that could force his hackles to jump so violently, making the bellows and caws of gators sound more like mewing kittens in comparison. Not only that, but knowing he barely missed another human in the area was another issue entirely.
Ado hadn't realized a human throat could conjure such a note, broken yet stridulous; the unknown soul stretched past its natural confines, conveying itself through an impossible, insurmountable wave of fear. A frenzied prayer the giver undoubtedly thought went unheard, but would live on in Adonis's mind for the rest of his unholy days.
The young man shivered, feeling ice ripple down his temple into his arms. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Ado absentmindedly took hold of the pendant again. His thumb languidly traced the ridges of the prism before he caught his thoughts lingering to the person this necklace once belonged to.
"Oh, fuck off," he grumbled mentally with a sigh. The reject let go of the crystal with a weary frown. Watching the pendant bounce as it fell into place over his chest was a pertinent reminder of the shame weighing heavy on his heart. The tank top he wore did little to hide what figure he urgently tried to bind away; revulsion pressed down on the forefront of his accursed form. Claws of disgust wrapped its cruel talons around his neck before the boy could wrangle his thoughts to something more meaningful.
Exhaling a pent-up burst of annoyance, Adonis averted his attention from himself.
"I don't wanna feel this way anymore."
Breathing deeply while he gazed at the ragged ceiling, the boy's hands slowly caressed the seat of his bag. It was soft, despite its tattered appearance. His eyes dragged over the thick fabric with solemn features, digits dancing leisurely over the perfectly sewn-together lines. The green and brown patches looked like murky, wispy clouds. It was expertly done, made with both love and desperation. The exile's eyes singed with that familiar sensation, his upper lip curled. Though, he knew he couldn't afford to get any more dehydrated than he already was. Ado's heart trembled, and another broken sigh pushed past his lips; a face he'd never see again smothered his mind like a smoldering wax.
Her smile was always so bright, bringing out the warmth of her burnt umber skin and warm, penny-colored eyes that crinkled closed whenever she laughed at him for saying the same stupid shit he always did. He couldn't bear to see her, even through a daydream- her love cut him like a blade. The kindness she gave him, unprompted, never begged for, broke him. He didn't mind losing the rest of the community, but to be ripped from the one person who truly made him feel human, who knew and accepted the weight of his sins, felt like a betrayal from God.
She was all I had.
Adonis huffed a broken puff of air, covering his face with shaking hands. The sensation of his sticky, drying blood coating his cheeks and eyes helped him hide from heartache.
The discomfort, in an odd way, was comforting.
Familiar and deserving.
"Ayoka, why?" He murmured coarsely, voice raw and despairing. She risked everything to ensure he survived, but for what? His free hand gripped the bag hard enough for his tanned knuckles to pale; rapid breath left his chest in defiant wheezes. It would've been easier for everyone if he just died. If he had, he wouldn't have to live with the curse of knowing the people who were supposed to love him most wanted nothing more than to forget he was ever there.
They would only ever love Ophelia.
Adonis had always been a void when it came to her vibrant sunshine.
She was dead, and it was entirely his fault- in the eyes of the colony.
He was out here because there was no way to atone for sealing the fate of another.
She would never come back.
Ayoka, thankfully, never blamed him.
She knew better, being familiar with both Ado and Ophelia.
That girl was no good; none of the Vemoras were.
Well, save one.
The exile clutched his bag to his chest possessively, feeling everything inside shift.
This was all he had left of his sister, and for her sake, Adonis had to be fine with that.
"I'm okay." As okay as grief would allow him to be, anyway.
Delusions can get one so far, sometimes.
Not for our dear castoff, it seems.
The boy shook under the pressure of agony, wrapping his arms around the satchel in a crushing embrace. Ado breathed in the scent of Ayoka's gift, closing his eyes and nuzzling the soft fabric.
The scent of dirt and sweat filled his nostrils; it no longer smelled like home. A dry heave deflated Adonis' torso, unsure if he was disappointed or grateful.
"The sooner I forget, the faster I can let go."
What a fool he was, to try and convince himself of such a cruel thing.
A wave of emptiness washed over the boy; there was no point in dredging on over shit that wouldn't change. The brunette gazed down with blank, hazy eyes before refocusing momentarily.
The dirt by his feet was brown and dull. The verdant monkey grass littering the frame he sat in would have caught his wonderment any other day- but now seemed an unsightly, putrid color.
No flowers blossomed from it, no stories to tell, no one to relay his last days to.
What did it even matter?
To him, nothing did. Nothing in this world alone, did.
"She's still smilin' under the same sky." He assured bitterly, ignoring how the voice in his mind shook. "God, I miss you, Yoka."
Breathing in deeply, he forced himself to lower the bag back into his lap, fingers mapping out the lines of green and brown before a new splash of color on his arm caught his eye. The daylight expressed what Ado had missed a few hours before: a large, dark bruise blooming over the outside of his forearm. Getting into the vehicle must have taken more force than he realized. The young man tilted his head, watching in consternation as if the blemish had only just appeared. Twisting the limb to study the extent of the damage, numbness gnawed his bones. Mouth downturned, his cheeks felt heavy, mind jumbled.
The wind eased its way through the forest, coaxing sounds of leaves to rustle. Treetops swayed in a calming rush of serenity that cut through the unassailable humidity. He watched them absently, realizing his entire body lurched with every breath: a partial inhale; stop, out. In, full breath, out. Stop, in-
Ado was making himself more nauseous, moving his focus to the elegant jaunt of the trees instead. Yet, the twisting of his organs restricted his attention, causing the fog festering in his skull to consume whatever direction he needed to take next. The pungent stench of rotting upholstery still poisoned his nose every other inhale, faintly burning his nostrils. In the past, it would have cost him his appetite, but now, the loss of hunger was a privilege. Clicking his tongue, he shook his head and peeked into his bag, rifling through the few items in hopes of striking gold.
Licking his teeth, the pariah's eyes grew wild and wide as he hastily knocked the small book to the side. Ado checked for the millionth time to make sure he really did eat all the dried meat and fruit he should've never had in the first place. "That stupid fuckin'..." he grumbled mentally at a roll of perforated cloths currently restricting his view as he flung it to the opposite corner, shuffling everything without a lick of patience. Adonis aggressively exhaled, his brows furrowed and lips quirked down while he yanked the opening wider. Something pale and beige caught the young man's eye;
His tongue curled against the roof of his mouth, fingers jabbing into the satchel to fish out what he hoped to be a few cashews, maybe a pecan. His jaw tensed when he finally managed to grasp the tiny bastard through a tangle of twine, wrenching his good hand from the depths to look at a measly quarter of what may have either been a cashew or a chunk of flint.
The exile swallowed thickly, his lips pressed into a firm line.
Ado looked in displeasure off into the distance, trying to inform whatever omnipresent being out there that he was done with its shit. Sighing, the brunette brought it to his mouth, swiping the mystery pebble across his bottom lip before tasting the chapped flesh.
It was soft and salty. This was a cashew.
"You could've just eaten it, pussy." He taunted needlessly before trying to rationalize with himself, as if any of this mattered at all.
"I had to know if I could chew it or swallow it first, actually."
Wait.
Ado closed his eyes and sighed deeply, tossing the sliver into his mouth and covering his eyes in self-inflicted embarrassment.
He had been out here too long, too hungry, too tired. The boy's nostrils flared as he exhaled again, giving up on the pursuit of finding more crumbs; he didn't need another blow to his already battered ego. Adonis's visage was imbued with disappointment before he opened his jaw to release the growing tension; he felt a painful pop as it released. Licking the inside of his teeth absentmindedly, Ado stared blankly at the dirt with his eyes unfocused.
"I could just die here," he internally posed with a tone entirely too whimsical for the topic.
The outcast pushed his lips out while looking slightly to the side, sick of himself. He was about to make another snide comment and waste more time, subconsciously avoiding admitting just how exhausted he was, but a sickly yellow color caught his eye; something lodged between the ground and what was left of the dashboard.
He blinked, craning his head sharply enough to twinge the crick in his neck as he looked at a long-gone set of eyes staring hollowly back at him. A hot, electric wave of realization sank a pick into his head and heart. Adonis tried to swallow the lump in his throat, breath quickening as he forgot where his hands and legs had been placed.
So engrossed by loneliness, he failed to realize there was someone beside him all along.
He looked at the dirt below what he didn't want to comprehend, shards of remains only confirming what his mind slowly built together.
Ado ran so hard from death, only to sleep in front of it.
His eyes were locked on the skull, slivers beneath it being remnants of the top right of its eye socket. The coil in his stomach squirmed, his brows and the corners of his lips drooped.
The living human's eye twitched, his arm tempted with the oddest urge to reach out to trace what once was.
The thought caused him to scowl in disgust, clutching his wrist to his chest. Fingers shaking, he mindlessly raked his front teeth across the skin of his bottom lip, over and over.
Adonis' expression twisted further, eyes growing wet now that self-control had been shocked out of him. Meekly tucking his legs in to sit crisscross, he hugged himself and scooted closer. The boy watched the hunk of bone with bated breath, tilting his head as his fingers still possessed that macabre urge to solidify the reality of mortality.
"What…" He was at a loss for words, feeling a more dangerous part of himself aching to break free from the confines of its cage.
He convinced himself he did not fear death; all this time, he had simply been nervous.
It was his heart that he feared the most. To Ado, empathy was a habit worse than any addiction. It could blind you to the truth and make you see parts of people that were nothing more than farce or delusion. Faith in others- trust in others- is what had him sent out to the deadlands in the first place, and most probably ended the journey of whoever rested eternally before him.
Adonis had always been drawn to the depiction of skeletons when studying, but seeing one in person for the first time stole the astonishment of his curiosity, only leaving the ominous gloom that came from hearing an answer to a question you learned the hard way that you honestly did not want to know the answer to.
There was always this insatiable, unfathomable need to understand what he had never seen.
Even now, the tiniest part of the young man wanted to know more.
Adonis blinked and leaned closer still, trying to push the air from his nose. The smell of the cab was enough to make him ill; the last thing he needed was the scent of decay to drain his stomach of whatever food he was fortunate enough to retain.
They seemed to be long gone; whoever this was had been here for a long time. Commiseration bloomed within his chest, the sensation swelling up into the center of his face. His visage softened, overtaken by repose.
Ado's mind blanked, unsure, not knowing what to say.
Well, nothing could be said; that lucky son of a bitch was already gone, and here he sat, dispirited and worn.
"Who were you?" A small voice wafted through his awareness, sounding so young and innocent it nearly startled him.
The skull didn't respond, but he didn't take it to heart.
They deserved the peace they were granted, he was sure. He hoped.
"Were you kind?" His mother's voice haunted him; her tone jovial and unnaturally warm as ever. Knowing how she always spoke straight from the heart had his own aching. A wave of resentment flooded him; the sin of vulnerability constricted his chest in a vice.
"No, you probably weren't; if you're out here, you rotten fuck." Adonis bit, leaning back to dust his shorts off with the back of his hand- trying to swat away whatever tenderness slipped past his blockade of antipathy. His face scrunched in a callous smolder before the voice of reason chided him; "she didn't spend her life teaching you the importance of compassion for you to act like a scorned child." Oddly enough, it sounded like Mara. Her contempt for him seeped into his bones like a bitter poison, not helping the hunger that made his jowls tingle painfully down his jaw.
Adonis's mother's smile graced his memory, causing his face to fall again. Her dark almond-shaped eyes were pools of warmth despite their voidal depths; her straight hair, save for a single wave that hung over her ears. Sometimes her blackened carob locks would hang below her collar bones, sometimes above the shoulders- never longer, never shorter. Her skin had always been much paler than his, but shared a similar golden hue.
He was cursed to wear his father's face. The bastard.
The colony joked the two were clones, that his sharp doe eyes were Samael's, same as the ridge on their shared button nose, bottom-heavy lip, and wide jaw; not a thing on his visage belonged to him. Ado was simply a ghost of his father. Looking into his own reflection often made him ill, though not entirely due to his heritage. His hair was the only thing he had to differentiate himself from the man who habitually tightened his leash until he was blue in the face. Adonis was told Samael once had the same untamed curls, the same dark chestnut hue. Though, that was decades ago; his father had long since balded off the top, grew a beard peppered with white and gray, and cut the rest short.
He wondered if it disappointed his mother, that he could not bear her beauty.
Ado hoped she forgave him, that she was with him still.
Adonis wasn't certain if heaven was real, but if it were, she would be on the highest cloud, warmed by the brightest star, singing the most beautiful song.
She would not want him to be as angry as he was.
Would she even love me as I am?
Or would she feel like the rest of them?
Ophelia forgave him in the end, but the others…would never understand.
The skull gave him no answers, staring glumly, emptily. There was no jaw to affront as an excuse for a smile. He chewed on his lip, the dry skin cracking and stinging. He could taste the iron on his tongue, and cared less.
Exhaling, his wave of irritation passed.
There was no need to project onto the dead, no reason to assume this person was any different from himself.
Yet, Adonis had never held himself in high regard in the first place.
Realizing he was close to sounding insane, the brunette shook his head and rubbed his face. He jerked back when his scabbed palm opened over his cheek; the young man hissed angrily through clenched teeth and balled his left hand to stay silent, feeling like an insect horde was devouring his right arm. So much for not being pissed.
Slightly manic from the small rush of adrenaline, he reached out to pick up a large shard of bone and threw it in his bag without giving himself a chance to stop. Feeling it under his quivering fingers, even for the briefest of seconds, made his bottom lip curl down. The skin on his neck tightened, as did his face, elbows, and forearms. The bruises on his good hand throbbed, chastising him for not letting it rest. Adonis pushed a hard puff of air from his nose with false bravado and braced, as if he'd be attacked for touching human remains.
Nothing happened.
It was only a second; the bone was in his hand; his body reacted as if he'd been run over by a horse, and then he promptly tossed the thing in his bag like a wet piece of garbage.
Rubbing the pads of his fingers to rid the lingering sensation of unease, Ado gazed at his battered hands afterward. Only his right was bad; the largest hole in it was ragged and ringed with purple and stained crimson. "It'll be fine after a wash." He assured himself ignorantly, shifting his hand to the side to look at the skull again.
"You won't be forgotten, even if y'aren't known." The warmhearted cadence he took, even internally, caused a hot flash of embarrassment to fill him again; "this bitch's dead. They prolly don't give a shit, ghost or not."
Pursing his lips and squeezing his cheek muscles together to force the threat of a flush away, his narrowed eyes blazed out the empty window holes of the rotten hunk of metal.
"Alright, fuck." He grumbled hoarsely. Ado squeezed his bag to his side with a deep inhale, rolling onto his knees as the world twisted around him. "It had only been like, what? Two days? I'm fine." He (poorly) attempted to soothe himself about his lack of food while blinking away the dizziness, crawling closer to the dash to climb over the hood. Naturally, he avoided the sentinel that watched over the remnant of the vehicle, feeling somewhat guilty for stealing a piece of bone.
Humanity could be so odd at times.
He didn't trust himself to have the strength to squeeze through the gap he made the night before without throwing himself down onto the ground in the process. It may not appear to be the case, but Ado was genuinely trying to avoid hurting himself any more than he already had.
He just so happened to be awful at anything he tried really, really hard at.
Sparing a few more moments to the remains, Adonis allowed himself some grace, letting his surroundings settle. The sunlight was gentle on the espresso-brown dashboard, cracks and rot looking like brushstrokes across the surface, littered with moss and spiderwebs. He cast one last look to his would-be companion; the simple connection forged by sharing the experience of being human was enough to momentarily lower his defenses.
If only living men could share the sentiment.
"It's not the end for you," he murmured genially to both himself, and the long-dead hunk of organic matter. Bracing himself for another wave of disorientation, he took a deep breath. The young man held the bottom lip of the dash before pulling himself up to hunch over the absent windshield.
The scene in front of him was lucid and crisp, eerily so. It was like looking into a funhouse window that wasn't there- he knew this was real, that he was awake, but it didn't feel like it.
His mind was tangled, something at the back of his brain buzzing with a phantom tension that he was only vaguely aware of. His limbs were lead at the end, hollow towards the middle; he had been hungry before- but never like this.
Adonis was simultaneously on fire and freezing in the humid air, sweating, saliva pooling in his mouth despite it feeling bone dry- his throat coarse as if it had been filled with dust.
Shit.
The outcast laid himself out over the hood, bent over, still partially standing within the vehicle. The frame dug into his hips; his face flattened on rough metal. His nose pressed down against his upper lip and lumps of petrified dirt dug into his brows. His lungs felt empty and strong, but breathing, somehow, was a struggle.
Ado pressed his forearm into the hood to push himself up, raising his eyebrows and blinking as hard as he could. It was a laughable effort, his shoulder and arms trembling as if he were a newborn foal. Fighting the urge to partake in his favorite nervous habit of sucking air through his lips and teeth to create a chirping sound, the human surveyed the area.
He probably should have done that before clamoring out of a decent hiding spot, but what can you do? The boy was distracted, overburdened, and occasionally an idiot.
The ground looked marshy; the dirt was nearly black with moisture, not yet mud. There were thick, healthy, and bright green blades of grass-filled patches of ground, the oak and pines beginning to thin, cypress trees ahead of him.
Water was nearby.
"Water, fucking water!"
Adonis' legs were rocks, lifting one haphazardly in an attempt to crawl out. His knee hitting the metal frame meant nothing; the dull sting didn't even register through his excitement. A solid thunk resounded through the air; his heart stopped for a moment, as every nerve in his body drained of whatever the fuck nerves had in them.
Swallowing thickly, the wilderness didn't indicate the presence of a beast, no dreadful silence overtaking the clearing- but a few birds didn't seem to appreciate his presence, squawking and flapping their wings in disgruntlement. Flying overhead, above the trees, were long and angular white-bellied birds with gray wings that had a dark stripe underneath.
The man couldn't help the feral, boyish grin lighting his face, "herons! water birds!"
They would probably lead him right where he needed to go if he followed them. Adrenaline was his lover at this point, pulling him up by the hips and helping him throw himself out the windshield with zero care. Ado somersaulted over himself in a thud, bloodied hand inadvertently pounding against the wheel well in an attempt to steady himself before he realized he was even falling. Another loud, hollow dunk echoed through the glade. An embarrassing sound escaped his throat when his knee hit the dirt as a sharp, molten blade of pain shot through his leg, hips, and torso. His body slammed down, pinning the wrist of his bad hand to the hard ground under his diaphragm. Air left his lungs with a ferocity that had him gasping, mentally pleading for oxygen. Adonis' eyelids twitched and his body shook; the human's head bobbed in a daze as the world spun him in a carousel of agony.
You know what I said about Ado being an idiot?
I should have said brash, but sometimes the terms share meaning.
Unable to see, he opened his eyes after a breeze crested through his hair, stirring him awake.
What?
Ado lifted his head, panting; a drip of something wet trickled down his chin that moistened the corner of his mouth. Something sharp dug into him; the human couldn't place what it was or where. Blanketed in silt, his hair was flush to pallid flesh.
"It's comfy here." An old voice he never wanted to hear again whispered the lie in his mind, but he was too tired to bury her again.
His body sunk into the dirt, cheek pressing into a pillow of filth.
"It's time, isn't it?" He thought to no one, leaden and delirious. He wouldn't be dying alone; whoever had crawled up in that truck was with him now, too.
Not only that, but Ophelia would be with him, always.
Her blood stained every ounce of his tainted soul.
She was so young.
But so was he.
God, so was he.
Her perfect, long, fluffy hair. How those golden-brown eyes of hers shone bright no matter how tired. Her disgustingly perfect, long lashes, how she always knew just what to say and who to say it to.
I fucking hated her.
His eyes fluttered shut no matter how hard he fought them; the burning dryness sapped his will to keep trying to open them.
His tumbling didn't go as unnoticed as Adonis had hoped, spooked birds alerting something nearby. Water could be home to so many wonderful creatures, after all.
Ado was out like a light, body cumbersome and hurting. Simply a shell of suffering, the valetudinary was unable to fathom the numbness eating away his muscles; his wounds open, throbbing, and hot. As he lay in sweat-soaked dirt, footfalls hesitantly crept closer, going unnoticed. They were heavy and slow, calculated. In his mind, Ado foolishly conjured an image of his mother tenderly petting his hair. There was weight and warmth soothing his undoubtedly untamed locks. She said nothing, the protective presence heavy over his back. There was an odd smell, something musky and wild but sharp, something he'd never experienced before. His mind dragged through the sensations, "was'er hand always so big?"
Weird dream.
For all he knew, God had granted him mercy.
Death finally embraced him with rigid, muscular arms-
No.
What?
Ado was paralyzed by exhaustion, upset by being awakened by the jostling of his body. There was a voice- deep and eccentric, speaking indistinguishably.
His head swam, the hot breath on his shoulder gave him chills. The exile tilted his head away, sluggishly attempting to detach from the large limbs circling his back, lifting him from the ground. The boy's lashes flickered open, for naught. It was blurry, only shadows slipping through his retinas.
'Aym dreamin'.
Maybe death's gen'le…warm; not cold n'scary as'a thought.
Like bein' tak'n' t'bed.
Death did not breathe, though.
Ado was pulled fully up, legs dangling before the stranger hummed a soft sound-
A purr?
Nah. Whada'f'ck?
At his limit, Adonis' eyes rolled down from under their lids. His head slumped against burlap fabric that seemed to have rock underneath. Something impossibly large and warm cradled the back of his head- tenderly stroking his tangled mess of curls, legs scooped up gently under the knee. Whatever had him was sturdy; scratchy against his arm and face.
There was so much happening, so little; everything was turning, spinning, hurting, heavy, yet light. The world had dragged the boy around by the ankles for so long after they had broken and thrown him into a river; this was the first time he truly felt as if he had been pulled from the waves.
Maybe that was just the food deprivation speaking.
Adonis, nearly unconscious, huffed from the ache of being held so carefully. His eyes welled; from fear or what else, he hadn't the mind to ponder on what made his heart devour itself. The young man lifted his head with a teeter, the weight of his cranium causing it to fall back down and knock on something painfully solid.
Iss'ain' somebody, fa'chris' sake?
It felt like a steel rod under the hollow of his brow; whoever held him patted his back.
"Be..tu?" They prosed, voice low but soft.
Issat en'lsh?
A darker shadow fell over his face, and Ado slipped farther. The unknown someone cleared his throat, saying something else that sounded closer to his own tongue. "...u…ky?"
Adonis' body swayed weightlessly, as if he were on a boat.
The breeze kissed him once more, before he found peace in the dark.