Broken Boulder these frozen bones

despite the protests of his caretakers delight remains outside. his walk is a little steadier every day. his feelings are another story.

there is no reason for him to be near, not in the sense of the realist. yet things never work as they should in realism, and dramatic devices beyond his comprehension draw him first toward the shape of his daughter and partner, curiously, before his eyes sweep to the source of their investigation.

"queenie," he croaks, weakly --  not the shattered voice of the ill but of the overwhelmed. like a ghost he drifts toward her, coming to stand just behind solomon, unable to look at her or alarian, only queenie. he catches only the end of her statement, his head automatically shaking no, no. "what -- why are you here" the androgyne says, nearly demands in his urgency. solomon he draws back close to him assuming she is easily caught, as if afraid of her, afraid of his children's mother (because he is afraid of himself.)