From one blink to the next, Yu found himself back in the kitchen, barely hanging on to the last thread of focus, shaking from head to talon, from his feathers to his core.

As he came to, he stood before the cupboard with the many familiar bottles. The Sharran Vey was in front of him. Not on the shelf — on the workbench. One of the six bottles stood right between his trembling wings. It was sealed, yet the liquid inside spun and swirled, as if someone had shaken it moments before. Yu stared, as the areole hurled itself from one side to the other, striking the glass from within like something caged.

The spirit calmed and it did not.

Yu felt the urge to shake it again.

He did.

He shook until the areole tore apart. Then he set the bottle down and watched, blankly, as the slimy chunks oozed out and dragged themselves through the liquor. The orblight overhead threw his shadow across the glass. As the orb slowly drifted on, the shadow slid aside. The light moved out of his back until it touched the bottle. The tinted surface brightened into a dark mirror. It reflected Yu’s face.

Yu did not know who he was looking at. Or what.             

                           It had been so easy for the wanting to take over.
                            For the screaming part, also. Yu was regaining control over his body just now.
                                                                                             It was beyond terrifying.

                           If the wanting could take over his mind in an instant, and dictate his words,
                                     and if the screaming part could wrench the body away
                                        and drag him back into the kitchen and make poison,
                                   then who was the Yu standing here and thinking about these two parts?

                         Was there still anything to him
                                  — to the him that he believed himself to be,
                                             the him that he was right now?

                                   Or did he just exist as a moment of pause,
                                        before one or the other part took over again?

                                                       Was he the change between their turns at the surface?
                                                             Was he just … the break between them?
                                                          Was he merely   indifference?

                     It had been so easy for the wanting to take over.
                       For the screaming part, also.
                          Yu was regaining control over his body just now.
                                                                                       It was beyond terrifying.

                    If the wanting could take over his mind in an instant, and dictate his words,
                               and if the screaming part could wrench the body away
                                 and drag him back into the kitchen and make poison,
                             then who was the Yu standing here
                                          and thinking about these two parts?

                     Was there still anything to him
                               — to the him that he believed himself to be,
                                         the him that he was right now?

                             Or did he just exist as a moment of pause,
                                 before one or the other part took over again?

                                                   Was he the change between their turns at the surface?
                                                         Was he just … the break between them?
                                                      Was he merely   indifference?

         It had been so easy
  for the wanting to take over. For the screaming part, also. Yu was regaining control over his body just now.

It was            
beyond          
terrifying.   

        If the wanting could take over his mind in an instant, and dictate his words,
      and if the screaming part could wrench the body away and drag him back into the kitchen and make poison,

then who was the Yu      
standing here         
and thinking    
about these two parts?     

    Was there still
anything to him
    — to the him that he believed himself to be, the him that he was right now?

          Or did he just exist
    as a moment of pause,
      before one or the other part took over again?

      Was he the change
between their turns
at the surface?   
                                                  Was he just …
         … the break
      between them?

    Was he merely           
            indifference?

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