With all the busyness around Rembrandt’s Station, I see I haven’t posted a snippet in a few weeks. This is from a work in progress:

Aerav took another pull on his flask. “After the battle, I was frozen in myself, as you are now. But sometimes there would come a sound, a look, a word, a movement. I would rage at the next mere annoyance, and then freeze again. Back and forth. I needed time alone to begin to feel my own heart once more, to stop reliving the sensation of flesh under my needles.”

Bertie nodded. That sounded uncomfortably familiar. The crunch of bone replayed itself in his memory, and he flinched.

Softly, Aerav said, “A sound. A look. A word. A movement. You belong to the guard caste, Bertie. We help each other. However long it takes.”