Again last night I had that strange dream.
Characters: Lyle and Stellaris
Date/Time: Nov. 10th, 2011
Location: House of Style.
Rating: PG
Summary: After Lyle returns from a trip back to his world meant to tie up loose ends, he and Stella have a day to simply hang around and figure things out.
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It was hard to remember the last time he truly slept well. Lyle's nights on the Ptolemaios had been filled with the light, easily interrupted slumber born of the anxious knowledge that an attack could come at any moment. It wasn't much better once their mission had come to a stopping point and he had taken his leave to return to Ireland; by then he found himself in the grips of insomnia. It would have been easy to blame that on 'space lag', the transition between an artificial sleep schedule and the organic night and day of Earth, and if anyone had asked that's the reason he would have given.
The truth of it was, his mind simply wouldn't shut off. Amidst the grief, nostalgia, and the roiling rhetoric of 'shoulda, woulda, coulda' that occupied his mind whenever he thought of Anew, he would get snatches of things that didn't make sense. At first the scenes that played across his mind had the vague, surreal quality of half-remembered dreams. Given the bizarre situations they presented, that's what he had brushed them off as at first. However, the recollections had gradually become sharper and more vivid, as if he was harkening back to some repressed second life. It had been more than enough to make him question his sanity.
Now, as he roused from a what felt like the sleep of the dead, Lyle found himself squinting at the proof that his return the day before hadn't been some sort of fever dream or hallucination. There were little grooves in the wooden ceiling above him that told of the fact that this apartment was carved out of the Tree that had started to edge into his memories like some sort of ubiquitous phantom. Under the bed the soft sound of cloth swishing against wood could be heard; a sign that Shizuko was awake and probably playing with an old bit of left over sock. Lyle rolled over onto his side to see the most important evidence of his situation that the room could hold--Anew, or rather Stellaris, lying there beside him. It wasn't often that he woke up before she did. As light as his sleep on the ship had been, she always seemed to need less. It occurred to him to take advantage of the head start, possibly put on some coffee or tea, but his attention was held by the rise and fall of her chest, and the deep, even pace of her breathing. They were such small, innocuous actions, but so alive when you really thought about it.
Date/Time: Nov. 10th, 2011
Location: House of Style.
Rating: PG
Summary: After Lyle returns from a trip back to his world meant to tie up loose ends, he and Stella have a day to simply hang around and figure things out.
------
It was hard to remember the last time he truly slept well. Lyle's nights on the Ptolemaios had been filled with the light, easily interrupted slumber born of the anxious knowledge that an attack could come at any moment. It wasn't much better once their mission had come to a stopping point and he had taken his leave to return to Ireland; by then he found himself in the grips of insomnia. It would have been easy to blame that on 'space lag', the transition between an artificial sleep schedule and the organic night and day of Earth, and if anyone had asked that's the reason he would have given.
The truth of it was, his mind simply wouldn't shut off. Amidst the grief, nostalgia, and the roiling rhetoric of 'shoulda, woulda, coulda' that occupied his mind whenever he thought of Anew, he would get snatches of things that didn't make sense. At first the scenes that played across his mind had the vague, surreal quality of half-remembered dreams. Given the bizarre situations they presented, that's what he had brushed them off as at first. However, the recollections had gradually become sharper and more vivid, as if he was harkening back to some repressed second life. It had been more than enough to make him question his sanity.
Now, as he roused from a what felt like the sleep of the dead, Lyle found himself squinting at the proof that his return the day before hadn't been some sort of fever dream or hallucination. There were little grooves in the wooden ceiling above him that told of the fact that this apartment was carved out of the Tree that had started to edge into his memories like some sort of ubiquitous phantom. Under the bed the soft sound of cloth swishing against wood could be heard; a sign that Shizuko was awake and probably playing with an old bit of left over sock. Lyle rolled over onto his side to see the most important evidence of his situation that the room could hold--Anew, or rather Stellaris, lying there beside him. It wasn't often that he woke up before she did. As light as his sleep on the ship had been, she always seemed to need less. It occurred to him to take advantage of the head start, possibly put on some coffee or tea, but his attention was held by the rise and fall of her chest, and the deep, even pace of her breathing. They were such small, innocuous actions, but so alive when you really thought about it.