Trophies

I thought I had seen him here in the sullied streets. I know that it could not be but still I'd called to him. I wanted it to be. Everything felt ... real. Something had broken through the impassiveness ...


The bulbous eye visable even from that distance, swollen with the festering of imflammation only superficial as was the writing on his skin.There was something in the avian mannerisms that was familiar. Then there were the symbols, the marks of the Island, the signature of our creator. He wore them as if boasting our beginnings. All that I've kept hidden per the training,

written,

there

for all to see.

I want to carve it from him as a trophy, wear it as my own skin
but if ...

no, I can not allow myself to believe.

If he is not, then was he still kindred? Had he been crafted too in the likeness of our maker? Is he another of Racselis biological warfare?

Or is he the ... next?

I touched my cheek and wiped away a dampness, a brine that has never been mine before. I am not capable of remorse ... I am not ... I am not ...

not ... ( tic) not ... (tic) not

why now

is there moisture on my face,

seeping from my eyes.

Vertigo struck and the world spun in on itself. Bile rose in my throat and my stomach though empty continued to heave until the world went black again.