Red and Yellow

[archiveofarethusa]

Autumn used to be Cliff's favorite season. The world was so transformed, garbed in its reds and yellows, and the sting of the wind and the chill of the earth below his feet made pretending he was elsewhere all the more natural. His mother made him bright sweaters every year, and though it was awful armor that drew insults like slings to a target he wore them proudly. Words were air, and air didn't bother him.

His mother's hands were always busy, even when she wasn't sewing or fussing or writing. Now they were still in death, and continents away.

"Wow, what are you even wearing?" Jaida said, when Cliff came down to breakfast. "Kristen, why are you not dressing this man? Did a rainbow throw up on him in his sleep?"

"It's okay, it's nothing like that," Cliff smiled, feeling oddly at home. "I fought a unicorn. It was grueling and bloody, as you can see, but I won."