Maybe I'll wake up for once
Characters: Roswell/Max Evans (yourealrightnow), Fred/Romana II (burntorangesky), and Dash/Tommy Shepherd (
reckless_rebel).
Date/Time: October 3rd, late afternoon.
Location: The Hall of Beginnings
Rating: PG-13 to be safe.
Summary: Fred and Roswell come back from their vacation in the happy snake's stomach.
The dream came again. All the faces, all the words, all the sounds; a second time Roswell was confronted with them. This time when his eyes opened to a world of muffled senses, however, he remembered it. There was a joy to that that would have been more savored were it not for the fact that, again, he was filling with a panic that breathing in liquid naturally induced. It didn't matter that he had done this before, that he knew he wasn't going to suffocate. Instincts had his limbs flailing against the weak membrane, intent on ripping it in half to taste freedom past the disgusting syrup of his tomb. The fact that he didn't know if Fred was okay, if even Dash had survived, only gave his punches and kicks more fire. It was one of these, a poorly aimed one at that, that brought him victory - but not the expected kind. Rather than piercing it with his limbs, Roswell felt a familiar bubble of power begin to creep up the back of his skull with a hand mere inches from the slimy wall in front of him. One moment, nothing, and the next the metaphorical bubble popped.
Kinetic energy made ribbons of the entire front half of the cocoon in an explosion that sent a near tidal wave of murky fluid splashing several feet away from the prison. With nothing left to hold him up, Roswell flailed briefly through the open air and felt a sense of deja vu as his body bounced and thudded against the infinitely white ground. Through his groans, the young man panned his eyes desperately around, blinking through their vague film to try and find a familiar face.
He had to know if Fred and Dash were okay.
reckless_rebel).
Date/Time: October 3rd, late afternoon.
Location: The Hall of Beginnings
Rating: PG-13 to be safe.
Summary: Fred and Roswell come back from their vacation in the happy snake's stomach.
The dream came again. All the faces, all the words, all the sounds; a second time Roswell was confronted with them. This time when his eyes opened to a world of muffled senses, however, he remembered it. There was a joy to that that would have been more savored were it not for the fact that, again, he was filling with a panic that breathing in liquid naturally induced. It didn't matter that he had done this before, that he knew he wasn't going to suffocate. Instincts had his limbs flailing against the weak membrane, intent on ripping it in half to taste freedom past the disgusting syrup of his tomb. The fact that he didn't know if Fred was okay, if even Dash had survived, only gave his punches and kicks more fire. It was one of these, a poorly aimed one at that, that brought him victory - but not the expected kind. Rather than piercing it with his limbs, Roswell felt a familiar bubble of power begin to creep up the back of his skull with a hand mere inches from the slimy wall in front of him. One moment, nothing, and the next the metaphorical bubble popped.
Kinetic energy made ribbons of the entire front half of the cocoon in an explosion that sent a near tidal wave of murky fluid splashing several feet away from the prison. With nothing left to hold him up, Roswell flailed briefly through the open air and felt a sense of deja vu as his body bounced and thudded against the infinitely white ground. Through his groans, the young man panned his eyes desperately around, blinking through their vague film to try and find a familiar face.
He had to know if Fred and Dash were okay.