Knox is not working right.

He knows because he is hearing through his eyes and he is smelling through his eyes and he is feeling through his eyes and everything is in his eyes. Everything. Eyes, eyes, eyes. He feels all the things he has ever felt in a dulled set of emotions and yet at a hypersensitive level. Every sense is more vivid, every sense is in his eyes.

His mind, however, is a muddle. He has lost all memory of the fight he's just roamed from, and his companion is too injured and exhausted to try and battle with his addled brain. He thinks perhaps he was a colt for a time, speaking with another white colt that really just seemed like a snowflake smushed right up against his eyes, but he knows now that this cannot be true because he isn't a colt, he's a very tall being and he is powerful and strong and wait, no, no he isn't.

The labyrinth's lung is a powerful thing. It fills every crack in his body, somehow seeming to ooze from every opening. Black sludge, tear-like trails that are only faintly visible in contrast to his dark coat, covered already in mud and blood and the hate that accompanies murder.

Somewhere in his mind he is distantly and vaguely aware that something important is happening. He breaks through a dancing treeline, feeling the leaves against him like a powerful vision, seeing such contact as thin whispers in his vision, and stumbles into a clearing. He does not recognize the smell but he thinks of his birth, or maybe that was someone else's birth.

He turns to his companion and speaks to her with his eyes: Was it your birth little defective colt?
No, Knox her mind wheezes as she falls onto the dirt and lays alone in a shadow far from the tender caresses of mother and son. Yours.

And then for some reason Knox is moving closer to that smell that looks like oil paints thinned out with too much turpentine. It is a hot, wet, and dripping look of the world. It is through this haze that he first sees his child and mate, faces in delicate contact and appearances mirrored. Somehow he knows there are others here, and his brother, too. He is so happy Archibald has come.

He has missed his brother, so much. He wonders faintly why his side stabs him, showing him black streaks of pain, with every breath--does not make the connection between the dauntless and his own injuries.

Knox is too overwhelmed to do anything but cry out to the two that he has found in the middle of a life consumed by sick, the two that are his family. He must speak, to Aylin, he must tell her how much he cares: "Oh Archibald, Look! Look brother, I've found my love!

He is falling to his knees beside Aylin, contorting back his dappled neck to find his brother's figure through the mist of illness and speak to the Dauntless and the distant red streak of his dog. "Aylin, look! It's our girl, it's our love, she's the most beautiful thing I can see!

And indeed, he can see nothing else.

[[The trauma of the Wolf God fight and fighting with Archibald has caused Knox to retreat into his passive magic and forget his conflict with his brother.

As a result of GLL, Knox experiences all senses through his eyes as a sort of synesthesia and is unable to recognize people through this obscured vision, confusing identities when he tries to speak and make eye contact. Thus, he thinks Manhattan is himself, Archibald is Aylin, Loretta is Milo (and that Milo is a girl,) and Aylin is Archibald. PM'ing RE.

Basically the equivalent of the dad showing up drunk to the hospital, after the birth has happened. SO THIS FAMILY IS GETTING OFF TO A GREAT START.]]