Artemy knows he's being comforted. He can feel it. Half of himself is here. In Erik's arms. Feeling the warmth of another person.
And he does appreciate it. He does.
Another part of him is there. In the town. With a child in his arms. A mockery of Murky's figure, created in sand. As soon as he tries to hold her close, she disappears to dust.
He knows it's not real. But it happens on repeat. Over and over. Short loops. He can feel it. Smell it. Sometimes see it.
It's so overwhelming. He tries to focus on Erik instead. Anything to make it stop.
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And he does appreciate it. He does.
Another part of him is there. In the town. With a child in his arms. A mockery of Murky's figure, created in sand. As soon as he tries to hold her close, she disappears to dust.
He knows it's not real. But it happens on repeat. Over and over. Short loops. He can feel it. Smell it. Sometimes see it.
It's so overwhelming. He tries to focus on Erik instead. Anything to make it stop.