Vast Jon going to bed and having dreams of an ever drifting sky, bright and glaring and forever blue. How it called to him, how that pit seemed to drop forever in his gut, like he was about to empty it. How he felt light headed, but not just from the dread. There was a rush to that fall, that…endlessness. There was no possible way to explain it and yet he had a voice, in the back of his head, that perhaps it didn’t need explaining. For to need an explanation is to assume you’re important enough to be pondered, and perhaps that was it.
When he wakes up he falls down the stairs at work because he filled his boots with coal.
This ask stuck in my mind ever since I read it. It’s so pretty and the words are so vivid, it literally inspired me to draw fully-formed vast!jon, it’s just- 🥺💙
