【生肉搬运】鸟雀Passerine 第七章（下）(30)
Even now, Wilbur could feel the voices—the Green God’s little spiders—lurking in the edges of his consciousness, just waiting for him to let his guard down again.
They only seemed to strike when Wilbur least expected it: when he was falling asleep or when he was caught in the tides of his own emotions. It explained how he’d been to places he didn’t remember walking to, or witnessed things he shouldn’t have, or done things he never would do when he was fully himself. He could still see Tommy’s face in his mind’s eye, trembling in his cot as Wilbur stood over him with a shard of glass.
Wilby, please, don’t hurt me, he’d said then, the same way Techno had whispered, It’s alright. It is not your fault. Too many times had Wilbur been used against the people he loved the most. Tommy. Techno. His kingdom. His father. All to serve the Green God’s ends. Puppets on a string, all of them were. But if Dream wanted him to dance, then Wilbur was going to give him one hell of a closing act.
He was running low on arrows, and the gods were moving too fast for his mortal eyes to catch, so he threw both bow and quiver away. He rushed towards where his rapier sat in the snow, its intricate pommel glinting in invitation. The weapon slipped easily into his hand. It was an extension of his fury, and they joined the fray together.
They only seemed to strike when Wilbur least expected it: when he was falling asleep or when he was caught in the tides of his own emotions. It explained how he’d been to places he didn’t remember walking to, or witnessed things he shouldn’t have, or done things he never would do when he was fully himself. He could still see Tommy’s face in his mind’s eye, trembling in his cot as Wilbur stood over him with a shard of glass.
Wilby, please, don’t hurt me, he’d said then, the same way Techno had whispered, It’s alright. It is not your fault. Too many times had Wilbur been used against the people he loved the most. Tommy. Techno. His kingdom. His father. All to serve the Green God’s ends. Puppets on a string, all of them were. But if Dream wanted him to dance, then Wilbur was going to give him one hell of a closing act.
He was running low on arrows, and the gods were moving too fast for his mortal eyes to catch, so he threw both bow and quiver away. He rushed towards where his rapier sat in the snow, its intricate pommel glinting in invitation. The weapon slipped easily into his hand. It was an extension of his fury, and they joined the fray together.
迪奥先生连做七天肉
