#me to myself: hey u wanna share a writing snippet that literally makes no sense without context?

[glasscitadel]

In Julien's reflected flight, he's reminded of many years past, of dusty speckled wings spread weakly in a wish to beat free above those bottomless mountains coasting a suspended sea of honeyed foam, of a forbidden young boy along the glistening horizon with spring in his hair and winter in his throat. And then there was this same boy, always within arms reach of themself, with autumn in her hands and summer in her eyes, gazed upon and cherished by all as if she were a vessel of pure sunrise.

Oh, the churn in his stomach, recalling his own pitied gaze as her beloved sunset faded in her shadow day after day, the hollow regret that took too many years too late for Julien to realize (though what could he do, just a boy himself, with a freakishly dark single set of wings on his back, unroyal, ungodly, unwanted?) as the girl rose and rose higher, and the boy fell and fell deeper, setting in perpetuity, unrelenting. Their people would sleep before the sunset's peak, his marvelous view never witnessed and never would be, not even after her own fall.

But Julien remembered another sorrow, as he allowed the tips of his dark feathers to ruin his reflection in the cerulean mirror below as they arched sharply to head back to the ship:

That same boy he was returning to, who carried the universe's crown, was never supposed to exist, yet she claimed her rightful place on the throne in her death, after all.