Author's Notes: Spoilers up to chapter 180ish. Requested on LJ.
Carry the Waves
You can't hear the waves from your prison, that spiraling expanse of white that towers above your world. It's strange because you wake dreaming of seas and rivers and water lapping at the shore. It's a river that stays in your thoughts, wide and choppy, reflecting the gray of clouds overhead. And there's a boy standing on the bank, hands in his pockets as he looks out over the surface and pretends to remember nothing. His orange hair is the only thing bright in the memory.
And it's not even a memory because you've never seen that particular stance before, that quiet determination in his shoulders as he gazes upon the thing that once destroyed him.
It's not raining in your dream.
You wonder if he can hear the waves from where he is, if he carries them with him in the corner of his mind. Or if, perhaps, you've muted the sound and replaced it with steel clashing and fire burning. You're going to die but you still hope that if you could just erase that water...
You pocket that fragile wish and look out your lonely window, searching for some color in all that white.
The End.