Work Text:
They run. They don’t know where to. They don’t know where from. They simply run as fast as they can, away from the black ink that is swallowing the world behind them, sweeping people that weren’t fast enough into its dark cold embrace. They can see people in it, still fighting the ink, unable to get away. They see someone, just standing there, not moving away, not going towards, just standing. They get swept away rather quickly. They see another person, running towards the ink, anger and hatred already on their face. The person doesn’t need the ink’s help. They are swept away willingly. They turn their head forward, running as fast as they can, not stopping even as they feel the burn in their legs. They don’t stop, even as a little girl behind her gets swept away, screaming about a father that was never there. They can’t stop, they won’t stop.