Exhausted, the Tailor slid their goggles on. They were under no pretenses that class today would be a trial to focus on, with their sorry state; it would be a miracle if their eyes would stay open for the entirety of the..

They looked up.

The...

Time as a body of motion. A mountain made of light.

Their eyes moved across the board like 'flight through wilderness' and it was like they were 'in pursuit of a still-living meal' and what was next? What was next? What would they 'See the bodies in orbit/dance that pulls and pushes without cease' next?

Their exhaustion was gone, and they didn't notice. They were leaning across the table, hands flat on the surface, looking. 'Seeking.' No, not seeking. 'Hunting.'

'ritual/Order of Days/connection in the dark/to trade secrets'

'an unmappable place/darkness untouched/lawless/home/prison'

'bond between predator and prey/to consume/possession/obsession/instinct

'orbit/balance in pulling at opposite directions/the complexity found in a single existence/rivalry/understanding

The Academic clapped their hands, and the Tailor found their breathing was ragged. They wanted to keep going, see how 'stories/letters/messages/secrets' linked to 'lovers/fate/dance/spiral', but the symbols were blurring. Why were the symbols blurring? Why did their eyes burn?

Oh.