[ some form of odd recognition sparks through falco’s eyes— for some reason he distantly remembers the name, tries to parse it out of himself. his memory slowly begins to come undone the more he tugs on what felt more like the present to him. so he asks, with careful words and tentative remembrance: ]
You’re . . . Aren’t you Peter’s—?
[ he trails off the words, but clearly ends it with a question— just as the clip of cloven hooves thud against beaten earth and the crystalized antlers of the mourning stag begin to rise above the trench’s line of sight.
it seems like luna won’t have to wait long, to return to wherever she had remembered being in beforehand. ]
no subject
You’re . . . Aren’t you Peter’s—?
[ he trails off the words, but clearly ends it with a question— just as the clip of cloven hooves thud against beaten earth and the crystalized antlers of the mourning stag begin to rise above the trench’s line of sight.
it seems like luna won’t have to wait long, to return to wherever she had remembered being in beforehand. ]