【生肉搬运】鸟雀passerine 第一章(27)
Philza’s jaw clenched. “It’s Wilbur. He speaks of voices—”
“Voices?”
Philza met Techno’s eyes. A conversation from lifetimes ago replayed in Techno’s mind—a moment of vulnerability in a castle not so different from this one, where he had spilled his secrets as easily as he spilled blood. The voices, Phil, they demand blood. There was a world’s worth of agony in Philza’s stare, a burden only understood by a parent fearing for a child.
“I am glad he is not like me,” Philza said. “But sometimes I fear he is growing more and more like you.”
Techno’s breath hitched in his throat. He resisted the urge to look down again, to search the grass for the boy with the ancient eyes.
The voices began to sing.
Not alone, they said. Not alone, not alone, not alone—
“No,” Techno said, curling his hands into fists and digging his nails into flesh until they drew blood—his daily penance. “He is but a child.”
Techno paused. What was he talking about? What did it matter what Wilbur was? What was this sudden ache in his chest, something telling of a far deeper wound, an older affliction? He did not know this boy. He should not care. He did not care.
“Voices?”
Philza met Techno’s eyes. A conversation from lifetimes ago replayed in Techno’s mind—a moment of vulnerability in a castle not so different from this one, where he had spilled his secrets as easily as he spilled blood. The voices, Phil, they demand blood. There was a world’s worth of agony in Philza’s stare, a burden only understood by a parent fearing for a child.
“I am glad he is not like me,” Philza said. “But sometimes I fear he is growing more and more like you.”
Techno’s breath hitched in his throat. He resisted the urge to look down again, to search the grass for the boy with the ancient eyes.
The voices began to sing.
Not alone, they said. Not alone, not alone, not alone—
“No,” Techno said, curling his hands into fists and digging his nails into flesh until they drew blood—his daily penance. “He is but a child.”
Techno paused. What was he talking about? What did it matter what Wilbur was? What was this sudden ache in his chest, something telling of a far deeper wound, an older affliction? He did not know this boy. He should not care. He did not care.
两a相逢必有一o的肉在第几章
