An unexpected update due to a drabble prompt fill on tumblr. Inspired by "Undying" by Demon Hunter.


Only when he dies for the third time does he realizes the first two weren't true.

the all-encompassing void of space; the cold, inexorable, slushing the blood in his veins

(a whisper between his ears, suggestions for where to go, what to do next)

the eternal plunge off the cliff; internal organs impaled on his own splintered bones

(hands ghosting over his body, ruination giving way to gentle restoration)

Small things, unremembered in the moment, only remembered now in death—in true life. Now he too has a voice (to whisper encouragements), hands (to guide, heal)—a heart (to hope).