Time moves forward.

It was the bane of the Fairies. It was the reason for the courts. The changing of the seasons. The letting go of emotions. The Others couldn’t understand it. So when they tied to fight those that embraced it, they failed. That’s how, however simplified, crown passing protected them.

Things change.

It was the bane of the fairies. The Gentry’s nature had infected them. Every turn of fate became a twist of the knife. Change meant harm. Every one of the Lost knew this down to their bones. They tried to deny it. They tried to show it wasn’t true as the seasons passed and the ruler switched from one to another. Yet, deep down, every unexpected difference was an affront the Wyrd that had nestled itself in their bellies and minds.

Ram sat in the apartment. Legs crossed, staring at his hands.

He could leave. He had enough money. He’d spent enough dark evening working night shifts to save some cash. He’d explored enough dark corners of Funderland and Sacramento to find safe doors. He’d talked with the Summer Queen to know she could give him the power to burn a home in Hedge.

Ram didn’t have to stay here. He had the money to get his own place. He had the knowledge to crave a home of his own.

He didn’t want to leave.

Here was comfortable. Here was the same. Consistency. Sanity. Fate.

Funny how those things intertwined.

Ram sighed and scratched his knuckles. Funny... but not that funny.

To fight. To change. To choose. That's what separated us from Them. And at some point, Ram would need to just that.