He smoothed the moment, took hold of the thistle, punctured his hand, but held his fist steady. There were those moments, moments he couldn't control, like houses of cards that never get beyond the second tier before collapsing in curses, and sometimes laughter. But this was a different moment, a darker moment. He hummed the song that he was meant to, hummed the song that would summon. He hummed and surfaces cracked. The sky cracked, the earth cracked, even he began to crack. And everything spilled. The entirety of the other side began to vomit out. Whether it was screams and white feathers, whether it was torment and blue petals, it came. He wasn't ready, but it came anyway. A torrent of abuse, a tidal wave of ecstasy and heartache, all held back from endless times. He stood on his own, stood on his small shaking feet, grasping the thistle tight, till it stopped, till it was over.