With cold hands, Larce stands alone. He should’ve been a bastard in a basket. He was unworthy. Others deserve what he was given.
Imean swims upstream through water deep enough to drown him. The liquid fills him and he releases it with some recognition, but mostly it’s an involuntary act. He sends his patronage to the painters. Imean still thinks it is important to discuss how he swims, but why he swims doesn’t seem to matter. He feels enveloped inside of himself, yet his insides are empty. The emptiness is more important to him & how could anyone describe emptiness? Is emptiness something? Can one feel empty?
Imean is oblivious to his surroundings during the ritual. He shakes and dances with a vigor mostly observered for older males of his spieces. One can get right next to his body, right next to his face & Imean would look through them. Their visages become weak then mottled & finally transparent to his vision & are empty to his eyes. No one exists during this time.
Overtaken by his feelings, he continues to swim. He is blinded by the water. He can’t hear over the roar of the current. He can barely even feel the space in front of him. He has steadily taken apart his very being for this year’s voyage. He was determined to finish and he left behind all semblance of life including what it even meant to be himself. The last day he looked in the mirror & said, “You wish you could come, but you can’t. You’re worthless to me now, but don’t be sad little guy. I’ll be back. You’d just slow me down anyway.”