A single fly screeching cannot be heard. But billions of billions of them, each a traitor born of the same betrayal, is a cacophony. Memories are harmless so long as the feeling of the past is barred.
-=-
The ecstasy nearly throws him off his mount. A beautifully scented twist in the spacial folds, a delicious contradiction within the orders of infinity. Why had he not felt this before? He is always smiling, but this time there is truth to it. He turned his bronze mount with a tap of his scythe. He must, after so long, speak with his sister.
