[ Jesse leans her cheek immediately into his hand, eyes locked onto his. She knows Polaris is trying to communicate. It's a mystery to her how Alan is interpretation them. She knows that Polaris is reusing the Hotline calls Alan sent her--pieces of a manuscript he wrote at some point. Or, at least, parts of Initiation or Return.
She's almost afraid to say anything. What if it causes him to wash out more? Jesse can tell how he does, because it's a look in his eyes. They unfocus and she knows he's somewhere else. Somewhere she can't go. Then, he's back. His hand curls against her cheek and she leans further into it. Maybe if he can feel her then he'll be able to focus on her.
Alan presses his forehead to hers. Her heart stops. Then, it pounds. It's what they always do. It's them.
« Alan, it's me. It's Jesse. Jesse Faden. The not so ordinary girl from Ordinary. »
His hand slides from her cheek and she freezes for a moment. Did she do something wrong? No, he's curling his arm around her waist. Jesse immediately leans back against him and presses her forehead to his once more. Polaris still resonate steadily from her hands... but it must not be enough.
｟ Going mad. The Writer had to escape. Write his escape. Already out, and wanted to make it true. The Torchbearer needed a hero. His hero needed a crisis. Gave the hissing a voice. Pulled strings to bring pieces gravitating to one another. Made them come together faster. We would clash eventually. Inevitable. Opposites that cancel. Hissing and Pulsing. Collective and Guiding. Bright and Dark. ｠
Jesse feels the nudge from Polaris and takes the leap without a second thought. Her hand pulls from Alan's quickly. In one swift movement, both her arms wrap around his neck. She rocks to the balls of her feet in order to give herself the momentum upwards. The Dark drains her, and the light is so limited that it's hard to keep her energy rejuvenated. But, Polaris insists, and so Jesse is trusting her best friend in that judgement.
She hovers enough off the wood flooring to be at his height. Her green eyes never leave his, even as that shimmer seems brighter around her.
｟ The Writer has written. And rewritten. Reconstructed. Changed himself. The Dark hides the past to make him lose his way. Twisting, turning, going in downwards. Spiraling. Then, reaches the bottom. Has the Writer been there before? Done it before? Reads his notes to himself. Recap. Then write more. Writing, writing, spiraling, downwards. Then, reaches the bottom. Around and around. Revolving around one constant: the Spiral. ｠
Polaris shimmers once more. Jesse feels the resonance trying to build, but keeps her arms around Alan and her gaze locked on his.
｟ Endlessly Spiraling. Forgetting the Spiral. Forgetting where he's gone. Not looping. The Writer changed himself. Forgot the Torchbearer. It's never just the light he needs. It's never just the dark he seeks. ｠
Should she say what comes to mind? He brushed the words off once before in their first loop. The words didn't seem to mean much at the time. That was fine with her, it meant something different to each person. But, now, she feels as if she should say it again. ]
Alan. [ Her voice is still small and quiet, forehead pressing against his, gaze never leaving his eyes. ] Do you remember me telling you this? It feels like a lifetime ago... "beyond the shadows he settled for, there is a miracle illuminated."
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She's almost afraid to say anything. What if it causes him to wash out more? Jesse can tell how he does, because it's a look in his eyes. They unfocus and she knows he's somewhere else. Somewhere she can't go. Then, he's back. His hand curls against her cheek and she leans further into it. Maybe if he can feel her then he'll be able to focus on her.
Alan presses his forehead to hers. Her heart stops. Then, it pounds. It's what they always do. It's them.
« Alan, it's me. It's Jesse. Jesse Faden. The not so ordinary girl from Ordinary. »
His hand slides from her cheek and she freezes for a moment. Did she do something wrong? No, he's curling his arm around her waist. Jesse immediately leans back against him and presses her forehead to his once more. Polaris still resonate steadily from her hands... but it must not be enough.
｟ Going mad. The Writer had to escape. Write his escape. Already out, and wanted to make it true. The Torchbearer needed a hero. His hero needed a crisis. Gave the hissing a voice. Pulled strings to bring pieces gravitating to one another. Made them come together faster. We would clash eventually. Inevitable. Opposites that cancel. Hissing and Pulsing. Collective and Guiding. Bright and Dark. ｠
Jesse feels the nudge from Polaris and takes the leap without a second thought. Her hand pulls from Alan's quickly. In one swift movement, both her arms wrap around his neck. She rocks to the balls of her feet in order to give herself the momentum upwards. The Dark drains her, and the light is so limited that it's hard to keep her energy rejuvenated. But, Polaris insists, and so Jesse is trusting her best friend in that judgement.
She hovers enough off the wood flooring to be at his height. Her green eyes never leave his, even as that shimmer seems brighter around her.
｟ The Writer has written. And rewritten. Reconstructed. Changed himself. The Dark hides the past to make him lose his way. Twisting, turning, going in downwards. Spiraling. Then, reaches the bottom. Has the Writer been there before? Done it before? Reads his notes to himself. Recap. Then write more. Writing, writing, spiraling, downwards. Then, reaches the bottom. Around and around. Revolving around one constant: the Spiral. ｠
Polaris shimmers once more. Jesse feels the resonance trying to build, but keeps her arms around Alan and her gaze locked on his.
｟ Endlessly Spiraling. Forgetting the Spiral. Forgetting where he's gone. Not looping. The Writer changed himself. Forgot the Torchbearer. It's never just the light he needs. It's never just the dark he seeks. ｠
Should she say what comes to mind? He brushed the words off once before in their first loop. The words didn't seem to mean much at the time. That was fine with her, it meant something different to each person. But, now, she feels as if she should say it again. ]
Alan. [ Her voice is still small and quiet, forehead pressing against his, gaze never leaving his eyes. ] Do you remember me telling you this? It feels like a lifetime ago... "beyond the shadows he settled for, there is a miracle illuminated."