The revealed interior, behind my internal veil, scrutinized.
A Second Æthyr.
“Tell me what you see,” he suggests.
“I see Sky above the white-capped Sound.”
“How does it appear?”
“Like some animal beat the shit out of it. Bruises of cold, blue, steel gun silver clouds. Lower scaping of a hazy, purple mist with undertones of blue and grey interplaying with the rays of occasional sun bursts.”
Another virus breaking through the ice queen’s firewall.
“Tell me what you hear.”
“Creaks of cracking support beams, slowly unseaming, internally, above me.”
Oh him? He’s an emotional support beast. Don’t pet; he will eat your fingers. Fair warning.