"I don't know," he admits, a little helpless. He can pick up those questions in the dream. "I don't know what happens after. But it wont be-- I fucked up last time, okay? Whatever after looks like, we'll figure it out."
He shrugs his shoulders, because even in dreams he's still not good at this shit- putting his feelings or the things that he wants into words. But the dream lingers on the way that he says we. Because Ronan is different, and he regrets how things had ended even if he doesn't know how to say that. And the things he needs now are different. He needs to not be alone, he needs someone that will understand him. And in his dreams, K always says: I know what you are.
Kavinsky closes the distance between them and Ronan's fingers curl against the other boy's hand, tugging him in close, close enough so they can almost breathe each other's breath for a moment. He needs him. He can't do this on his own. Not just because of the practical considerations, but because Ronan isn't steady on his own feet.
"We start now," Ronan says, with a smile that's wild and hungry, and then he pulls Kavinsky with him. Trying to be careful, to press his intention to Lindenmere, to tell it what he needs as he holds onto the memories.
Waking in Lindenmere it always a little strange, the way the boundary between reality and dreams is a fluid thing, the lines not quite so firm between them. The two sides of himself. Dreaming is more about wanting it enough, feeling the dream, than about waking. So it's a strange thing, hard to know for sure the moment when Kavinsky goes from something in his dream, to a dream real in the world, here with him, aside from the pulse of the ley line.
"I have a car. I don't know how the shit with the ley line is going to affect this place so I want to get to another line. Or else we'll both be fucked. From there we can work out where to start."
Like Bryde had said: dominoes. And the ley lines were connected, like veins. He could still get Ilidorin back, it just meant there was more work. He wanted to find Bryde, but he wouldn't even know where to start looking. But he wasn't alone, at least.
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He shrugs his shoulders, because even in dreams he's still not good at this shit- putting his feelings or the things that he wants into words. But the dream lingers on the way that he says we. Because Ronan is different, and he regrets how things had ended even if he doesn't know how to say that. And the things he needs now are different. He needs to not be alone, he needs someone that will understand him. And in his dreams, K always says: I know what you are.
Kavinsky closes the distance between them and Ronan's fingers curl against the other boy's hand, tugging him in close, close enough so they can almost breathe each other's breath for a moment. He needs him. He can't do this on his own. Not just because of the practical considerations, but because Ronan isn't steady on his own feet.
"We start now," Ronan says, with a smile that's wild and hungry, and then he pulls Kavinsky with him. Trying to be careful, to press his intention to Lindenmere, to tell it what he needs as he holds onto the memories.
Waking in Lindenmere it always a little strange, the way the boundary between reality and dreams is a fluid thing, the lines not quite so firm between them. The two sides of himself. Dreaming is more about wanting it enough, feeling the dream, than about waking. So it's a strange thing, hard to know for sure the moment when Kavinsky goes from something in his dream, to a dream real in the world, here with him, aside from the pulse of the ley line.
"I have a car. I don't know how the shit with the ley line is going to affect this place so I want to get to another line. Or else we'll both be fucked. From there we can work out where to start."
Like Bryde had said: dominoes. And the ley lines were connected, like veins. He could still get Ilidorin back, it just meant there was more work. He wanted to find Bryde, but he wouldn't even know where to start looking. But he wasn't alone, at least.