I got this request in MARCH. I’m the slowest, but still working through prompts when I can! This just seemed like an appropriate thing to warm up with today, in light of it being Adam’s birthday. ❤ I hope you like it, anon.
Cabeswater’s been tugging at Adam all day as he moved from one job to another. Just gently pulling the threads at the edge of his mind. It isn’t the terror of before, but it’s also more than he’s received in close to a month. The forest had gone eerily still after it all. After they found more than Gansey had been looking for and after people stopped trying to steal away the greywaren and after it had stopped having to sustain such a constant stream of energy to hold everything together and protect itself. Adam is still getting used to the quiet. He welcomes the feeling of another presence, especially today of all days, so he goes to it.
It’s close to ten when he pulls off the winding mountain road and onto the grass. His headlights illuminate the BMW, perched next to the trees some hundred yards away, and his throat dries out a bit. It’s not that he’s been avoiding everyone on purpose all day, it’s just that he prefers to spend his birthdays alone, so he hasn’t tried to reach any of them. It’s a ritual, thinking about everything he’s lost and gained and examining the holes in his gut and seeing if he can’t fill any of them in. And anyway, they haven’t tried to contact him either.
Birthdays have always been complicated for Adam, reminders that he was an inconvenience, but also that eventually he would be free of feeling that way. Always one year closer to being the self-sufficient sort of man he wanted to be. Now, having tripped across July the third from eighteen to nineteen, he’s been that man for a year and it hardly feels real. He doesn’t feel any more mature or prepared than he usually does. He eases open the car door and climbs out, shutting it gently behind him, trying not to disturb the night.
It’s also night in Cabeswater when he steps through the transition. He’s immediately greeted by a swarm of fireflies, some of which cling to him as he walks forward, rendering his tanned skin and blue t-shirt into dotted galaxies in the darkness.
“Ronan?” he calls quietly, unable to raise his voice, affected by the hush and beauty of magic and night.