When you were a child, you might have found that disconcerting. Back when you'd only ever been in your elsewhere and the real world. Now it is something like normal, as normal as anything gets. In the faint light from outside, you see the shifting iridescence of their wings, vivid greenblue, and you think that this is not just not-disconcerting, it is beautiful. Even the susurrus of their wings and the delicacy of their tiny legs picking across your skin are somehow soothing.
You are just so tired.
You have fallen for weeks, you have walked for days, and you are curled up in this cave at the end of nowhere, a river of greenblue flowing over you. You rest my head against your outflung arm. Just for a few minutes. Please, just a few minutes.
They latch into your hair and you do not move. They bury your feet and you do not move.
They pry your mouth open, tiny delicate too-strong legs, and that's when you bolt upright, sliding hands down arms and legs to throw them off you in sheets, pulling them from your face, sudden spike of adrenaline -
- this is not the road home -
and you see Aaron, hazy, mist-shrouded, as the beetles pull you back down, and they are not beetles, and this is not a cave, but there are needles and a tube down your throat that they won't let you pull out, and then it falls dark again -
"Night Terrors in the Grape-Arbor" earrings by rivenwanderer. Rivenwanderer formed sterling square wire into a curled and twisted shape, then hung real beetle wings and cultured freshwater pearls. They hang from commercial sterling ear wires.
swashbucklr wrote something inspired by Cicatrix. Just don't call it
He is trying to figure out what mischief I got up to when I had his cellphone. Hee. Dear reader: I did *nothing*. Let's see how long it takes him to stop looking.