isaac turns. raises a hand, and that Other sense entangles: finds the threads of skin and sinew, all those quiet places where flesh and fade once knit. finds them, and pulls.
for a moment it doesn't seem he's done anything at all. almost comic, the way that sweat collects, that his expression soars with brief triumph. somewhere beyond the window, a breeze stirs. canvas flaps.
no subject
isaac turns. raises a hand, and that Other sense entangles: finds the threads of skin and sinew, all those quiet places where flesh and fade once knit. finds them, and pulls.
for a moment it doesn't seem he's done anything at all. almost comic, the way that sweat collects, that his expression soars with brief triumph. somewhere beyond the window, a breeze stirs. canvas flaps.
the first scars break open onto blood. ]