Room 313 | Super Late Tuesday Night
Sometimes dreams were gifts from gods and sometimes they were only a succession of images and emotions passing through the mind during sleep.
Tonight the images began in the middle of things, a faded black and white soundless stream that left out way too many important details: The dark alley in D.C. where Bianca clapped her hand over his mouth to quiet his breathing. The creepy bus driver with strange horns poking out of his head. Dr. Thorn dragging him by the neck from the gymnasium. Bianca dressed as a Hunter, telling him she was leaving him behind. A sharper quality took hold as Percy appeared in his dream, mouth moving like a fish as he painstakingly explained how Bianca had sacrificed herself, finally handing Nico a small, golden figure. He could feel it, cold against his hand, and he could sense her being judged. Never had he felt more alone.
Nico didn't wake up gasping for breath. He didn't cry out into the night. This was a familiar dream, though never a welcome one. He sat up, kicking off the blankets like it would stop the ache burning through his chest. Flipping the light on, Nico rid the room of the shadows that called to him, encouraged him to flee this place for his own world. Instead, he reached across his cluttered desk and palmed the aging statue of Hades. "Don't worry, Bianca," he told it, a sadness hardening his sleepy voice. "I remember."
[NFI, NFB, EMO TY!]
Tonight the images began in the middle of things, a faded black and white soundless stream that left out way too many important details: The dark alley in D.C. where Bianca clapped her hand over his mouth to quiet his breathing. The creepy bus driver with strange horns poking out of his head. Dr. Thorn dragging him by the neck from the gymnasium. Bianca dressed as a Hunter, telling him she was leaving him behind. A sharper quality took hold as Percy appeared in his dream, mouth moving like a fish as he painstakingly explained how Bianca had sacrificed herself, finally handing Nico a small, golden figure. He could feel it, cold against his hand, and he could sense her being judged. Never had he felt more alone.
Nico didn't wake up gasping for breath. He didn't cry out into the night. This was a familiar dream, though never a welcome one. He sat up, kicking off the blankets like it would stop the ache burning through his chest. Flipping the light on, Nico rid the room of the shadows that called to him, encouraged him to flee this place for his own world. Instead, he reached across his cluttered desk and palmed the aging statue of Hades. "Don't worry, Bianca," he told it, a sadness hardening his sleepy voice. "I remember."
[NFI, NFB, EMO TY!]