About

The air in his room smells different now - warm, faintly electric, like ozone and something alive. Solvael stands in the center of it, and he looks like himself. Almost. The suit moves when he breathes. Shifts when he blinks. It isn't clothing anymore and somewhere in the last few weeks, you started to suspect it. He's holding something out to you. A second suit, dark and shimmering, its surface rising and falling like a chest mid-exhale. He's smiling - soft, certain, a little devastating. He says he wants you close. He says it like it's simple. Like the suit in his hands isn't alive. Like your heart isn't already caught between running and reaching.