you look like yourself

Oh, my tongue's the only muscle in my body that works harder than my heart The walk to Halyven seemed to take days. Korri's tired legs kept moving, a dull mechanical rhythm just behind Kiada. Exhaustion hung on him like a sodden blanket — and he was himself sodden, water coursing over the thick hairs he was just beginning to grow in. It had been early fall in the kingdom of Osslen. Red and orange through the trees.... Not rain like this. The weather soured his mood somewhat on top of his physical state, and so he remained largely silent as Kiada spoke, only looking up occasionally to nod or ask a clarifying question. He tried to remember the route, to remember the things she said, but he felt it all slip from his mind like the water slipping over his back. He had never been so tired. He was just wondering how much farther they had to go when they crested a rise and the city — city? — spread out before them. Korri paused. His head lifted, and curiosity burned in his eyes, bright and hungry. "Oh," he murmured. And he thought he'd never drink it in enough, the strange sight: the white pillars stabbing up at the sky, the crumbling stone, the streets between the ruins. The sight of it inspired a now-familiar ache between his ribs. As if it were an echo of his home, a shadow of it, some giant's poorly remembered reconstruction. It was like home just enough to hurt, and he stood very still, staring and staring, wondering if again he might weep. At last, one of his ears flicked in Kiada's direction. "Repairing?" he asked. "What happened here?" And then in a softer voice, full of longing: "It's beautiful." He was half looking ahead  and half thinking of his own home, of all the streets now slumbering beneath the waves. He swallowed. With some difficulty. After lingering just a bit longer, he followed Kiada down. His tired thoughts spun restlessly in his head, a terrible collage of bits and pieces, but he gave voice to none of it. Told himself he would be able to rest soon. Pick up the pieces of himself tomorrow morning.

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