Bird Eyes || Tomtord

Endings

Tord perched himself onto the railing of the boat just as it was beginning to set sail. He had half of a rat in his talons, it's bloody body still being picked at. The ship was infested with them. They would be a good form of food if the people on board wouldn't let him steal any.

The going was awfully slow. He was stuck in a painstaking wait, knowing that he could fly faster than the ship but not being able to; he could get lost or have to endure serious fatigue. He had to wait or he may never find his Tom.

It was on the third day that one of the crew noticed him. He had been looking into the peachy sunset, perched on the railing, and heard a cry from behind him. It was laced in surprise and almost astonishment. He turned to face a redneck looking guy who stood and stared right back at him. He didn't make any advances but that didn't mean he wouldn't.

Tord quickly lifted himself onto a crate where he couldn't be reached and let out a noise that meant for the man to go away. He didn't immediately, and Tord's brain raced trying to decipher what the guy was thinking. When he did leave, the owl didn't move back to the rail, thinking that the guy might do him harm if he got him.

The guy came back shortly after with a bucket of fish. He placed the bin down, looked up at the crate Tord had flown upon one last time and then leaving once more.

He didn't ever eat the fish given, nor did he ever see the guy again. The army had taught him never to trust strangers. The fish could be poisoned for all he knew. Still, he felt a grateful feeling towards the guy. He at least tried to help him.

||

Tom felt sick. It wasn't just the common cold or flu, it was a mental kind of sick. He craved Tord too much and learned to depend on him. Now that he was without him, he didn't know what to do. Tordun still wasn't back after ten minutes that felt like hours with him bundled in his blankets and crying.

He needed Tord. Tord would make everything better. Tord would know what to do. He felt addicted to him. Tord was his drug, his alcohol, his Smirnoff.

Smirnoff, what a wonderful thing, he thought, then slapped himself out of the trance. He couldn't have alcohol. He couldn't, or else he would die again and Tord would never find him and he would never find Tord. Was Tord even looking for him? Or did his reincarnated form completely forget of its past life? What if Tord did forget him and he was left searching for a man who didn't even know he existed.

Breath ran fast through his lunges. His body felt so hot yet so cold. He was sweating. He was shaking.

Thoughts jumbled up and turned into actions and his hands crashed into his face, prodding and trying to grab his thoughts so he could throw them through the window. His hands fell upon his goggles, thinking that he had found them: the bad thoughts. He pulled them roughly off of his face and pushed all of the blankets aside and threw them.

The sounds of shattering glass was breathtaking.

Then the sound of nothing at all. The thoughts were gone. He had gotten rid of them. He was okay again. He took the blurry vision as just tears still welled in his jet black eyes and let his head crash back unto the comforting pillows. He breathed deeply and invited the silence into his mind. There, it would cover every inch and no thoughts would be allowed into his brain ever again.

The scent of Tordun blew in through the broken window and he smiled.

||

More burning days and starry nights went by on the ocean traversed by Tord. The water glistened brilliantly beneath every light, reminding him of his glistening boy in London. He yearned to be near him so dearly. Every thought in his mind connected to the brit and his dreams were filled of only him.