[ That’s what he’d planned. But the words disappear into the cacophony, and the cacophony continues around and beyond them, and his there’s a catching sensation in his chest, the same as when Marcoulf’s griffon first dove off the tower with them on her back.
So he sucks in another lungful of air and improvises. ]
YOU DON’T EVEN HAVE ANY FEET.
[ Childish, for a childish fear. And another breath—but this time he’s quieter than a bellow, not quite trusting the cover of the drums, with his head tipped back to face the ceiling as much to hide his mouth from any lip-reading as to enjoy the gesture of shouting toward the sky: ]
I am so fucking tired of not being good enough.
[ But even as he shouts it, he doesn’t quite feel it. Not in the moment. Byerly was right—with the fake thunder vibrating in his chest and throat and his words disappearing into it, it nearly feels like the drumbeats are his voice instead, translating his shouts into something rawer, filling up the theater. Enormous.
He stops there, but it’s to laugh. A little self-conscious, a little giddy, and covering his ears to signal that he’s had enough. ]
no subject
[ That’s what he’d planned. But the words disappear into the cacophony, and the cacophony continues around and beyond them, and his there’s a catching sensation in his chest, the same as when Marcoulf’s griffon first dove off the tower with them on her back.
So he sucks in another lungful of air and improvises. ]
YOU DON’T EVEN HAVE ANY FEET.
[ Childish, for a childish fear. And another breath—but this time he’s quieter than a bellow, not quite trusting the cover of the drums, with his head tipped back to face the ceiling as much to hide his mouth from any lip-reading as to enjoy the gesture of shouting toward the sky: ]
I am so fucking tired of not being good enough.
[ But even as he shouts it, he doesn’t quite feel it. Not in the moment. Byerly was right—with the fake thunder vibrating in his chest and throat and his words disappearing into it, it nearly feels like the drumbeats are his voice instead, translating his shouts into something rawer, filling up the theater. Enormous.
He stops there, but it’s to laugh. A little self-conscious, a little giddy, and covering his ears to signal that he’s had enough. ]