gemini season

the initial hangover after the Hallow’s festival had been pure nightmare fuel - an unending thump of pain against their skull that didn’t let up for several hours, no matter how much water they drank - but the resulting days are almost worse. every morning they drag themselves from their den and set out hunting down breakfast or running through drills, working themselves until their muscles ache and their mind is so tired they can scarcely think beyond their desire for a shower. then they fill the remainder of the day anyway they can, with blacksmithing practice or weapon cleaning or another round of relentless drills. it’s a monotonous, mind-numbing sludge of a routine, but it keeps them moving. keeps them from crumbling in a heap and never resurfacing, as they so often longed to do. but they can feel it coming, the inevitable breakdown, a culmination of denial of overexertion. maybe, if they just push themselves that bit further, they can outrun it. this morning, however, they wake extra early prop themselves up against the entrance of the col, watching the dawn rise and bleed across the horizon.

"Speech"