He pulls and pulls and pulls, stretching the tendons and muscles until they snap. I can travel into his neck, and along the course of their path. I watch the muscles, delicate and white, snap. They look just like chicken meat. One period was a dream.
Dreams are, conversely, designed to stop periods.
Three periods are enchanting, but, with a world of possibilities, ungrounded and not particularly practical at best. When I think of two periods, though, I imagine something between eternity and economy. I might have noticed it first only recently, and then only in the busts of Delos, but after that, I could see it almost anywhere. I could see it as anything between, in living or ghostly. I could see it in almost anyone's eyes.