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It's evening when the spell breaks, but there's still a glow of twilight, and Wren finds himself sitting in the woods, alone. He's wearing jeans and boots, a nondescript shirt and a leather jacket and fingerless gloves, like any given day of the week, and his cell phone's in his pocket, but his whole body hurts and his heart's pounding.
He's been flying. Flying?
It's like he's woken suddenly from a two-week dream. Everything here is here, and makes sense, but so is everything that was. He stands, uncertain, getting his bearings. It might be a dream, but it's as real to him at the moment as this Siren Cove is. He has to get back to Hana, because if he doesn't...
But there's no curse here, no ultimatum, and he's suddenly fiercely angry at whoever -- whatever put them in a place like that.
He doesn't know where she even is. His arm hurts and he can't remember why, and he's exhausted. Wren points himself toward home and manages to keep himself upright. Inari is sitting on the front step looking pretty proud of herself and he eyes her. Probably in some fairy tale land she was actually a shapeshifter, or a direwolf like she seems to think she is. He nudges her inside, pours her some food, falls asleep with his shoes on on his bed and doesn't dream.
He wakes up, though, in the early hours of dawn, head full of everything that happened or didn't, swans and nettles and fae, curses and love, devotion. Lies awake breathing it.
are you awake? he texts her on her new phone and then, are you all right?
He pulls down a guitar to get it out of his head, the echo of a song he sang or didn't sing, but it doesn't: he can't stop thinking about her, hurt hands and afraid to laugh, and he puts it down. When he goes outside the sun does nothing but reflects gold on his skin.
He walks to Hana's apartment, lingers outside the outside door casually until someone comes out rubbing their eyes. If having your crazy musician boyfriend show up worried at 5 in the morning is a dealbreaker, they should probably both know that, but he's got a hundred things he's thinking and he can't make them stop because it's early.
He's been flying. Flying?
It's like he's woken suddenly from a two-week dream. Everything here is here, and makes sense, but so is everything that was. He stands, uncertain, getting his bearings. It might be a dream, but it's as real to him at the moment as this Siren Cove is. He has to get back to Hana, because if he doesn't...
But there's no curse here, no ultimatum, and he's suddenly fiercely angry at whoever -- whatever put them in a place like that.
He doesn't know where she even is. His arm hurts and he can't remember why, and he's exhausted. Wren points himself toward home and manages to keep himself upright. Inari is sitting on the front step looking pretty proud of herself and he eyes her. Probably in some fairy tale land she was actually a shapeshifter, or a direwolf like she seems to think she is. He nudges her inside, pours her some food, falls asleep with his shoes on on his bed and doesn't dream.
He wakes up, though, in the early hours of dawn, head full of everything that happened or didn't, swans and nettles and fae, curses and love, devotion. Lies awake breathing it.
are you awake? he texts her on her new phone and then, are you all right?
He pulls down a guitar to get it out of his head, the echo of a song he sang or didn't sing, but it doesn't: he can't stop thinking about her, hurt hands and afraid to laugh, and he puts it down. When he goes outside the sun does nothing but reflects gold on his skin.
He walks to Hana's apartment, lingers outside the outside door casually until someone comes out rubbing their eyes. If having your crazy musician boyfriend show up worried at 5 in the morning is a dealbreaker, they should probably both know that, but he's got a hundred things he's thinking and he can't make them stop because it's early.
