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inthemoon[ the face in the feed looks like it's had all the colour washed out of it. white skin, white hair, silvery-gray eyes-- all shades of pale gray and white. even the inside of his mouth, when he parts his lips to speak, is gray.
he pauses like that, poised to say something, but then his mouth shuts with a click of teeth together. the frame begins to tremble faintly-- his hands are shaking. he's shaking. he's never left the surface of the moon before. he's somewhere else. somewhere like earth, but not. the moon still tugs at him, drags at him, like the tide. but he's away. he's seeing things and touching things and smelling and tasting and--
(it's all more than just a little overwhelming. the man in the moon has never not been alone.)
he takes a breath in through his nose, eyes sliding shut for a moment as he finds calm somewhere. they open again a moment later and he offers a slightly unfocused smile. ]
This is impossible, I think. I never sleep-- or I didn't before, at least. But I must be. Sleeping, I mean. Dreaming. Because, you see, I'm the Man in the Moon. The Man in the Moon cannot simply leave.
[ he twitches back a little, propping the little board up and leaning back, pulling his clothing more tightly around himself as if cold. ]
.. This is a dream.
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