A Good Night's Rest
Sleep doesn't come easy, even though this is the first time he's had the chance to completely let go and sink into it. When it does finally take him, his dreams are vivid. Hundreds upon hundreds of flashing neurons make the connections to these moments that his eyes never saw.
A childhood full of long, long days, where fact and fantasy were interchangeable, and sometimes fears were more real than anything. Small things were treasures to be collected, traded, jealously hoarded. Adults made the laws and could turn an hour or a day miserable with a "no." Among friends, your worth was measured in how fast you could run, how well you could climb a tree.
He sees sunny days spent at the park, and rainy ones spent indoors. Using a stool to help wash dishes. Raking leaves and complaining bitterly. Picking out a dog from the pound, and three months later tacking up "Lost" signs around the neighborhood. Pushing vegetables around a plate during sit-down dinners while adults talked for hours.
In the middle of scratching mosquito bites during the night of a camping trip, he jerks awake. He was mimicking the motion, scratching at his mark, and the hard ground under the tent is actually the floor beneath him.
Glancing around, he can see the evidence of how Vayu spent the night. The room is a disaster. Furniture is upended, the contents of his trunk are scattered, any wall hangings have been torn down completely or knocked askew. Linens were tugged from the bed and tossed in a heap. (One can only be thankful that Vayu's element isn't fire.) The demon was probably furious to be given the chance to take over, only to be kept prisoner.
The tuner hoists himself to his feet and with a sigh, he shakes a tingling arm awake and starts putting things back into order as much as possible. Clearly, all the decorative stuff is going to have to go.
A childhood full of long, long days, where fact and fantasy were interchangeable, and sometimes fears were more real than anything. Small things were treasures to be collected, traded, jealously hoarded. Adults made the laws and could turn an hour or a day miserable with a "no." Among friends, your worth was measured in how fast you could run, how well you could climb a tree.
He sees sunny days spent at the park, and rainy ones spent indoors. Using a stool to help wash dishes. Raking leaves and complaining bitterly. Picking out a dog from the pound, and three months later tacking up "Lost" signs around the neighborhood. Pushing vegetables around a plate during sit-down dinners while adults talked for hours.
In the middle of scratching mosquito bites during the night of a camping trip, he jerks awake. He was mimicking the motion, scratching at his mark, and the hard ground under the tent is actually the floor beneath him.
Glancing around, he can see the evidence of how Vayu spent the night. The room is a disaster. Furniture is upended, the contents of his trunk are scattered, any wall hangings have been torn down completely or knocked askew. Linens were tugged from the bed and tossed in a heap. (One can only be thankful that Vayu's element isn't fire.) The demon was probably furious to be given the chance to take over, only to be kept prisoner.
The tuner hoists himself to his feet and with a sigh, he shakes a tingling arm awake and starts putting things back into order as much as possible. Clearly, all the decorative stuff is going to have to go.