[Dream: Week 24, day 1 | Early morning] Before You Tell Yourself It's Just a Different Scene
It starts with the crackling sound of fire.
No, actually, a more correct way to put it would be the roaring sound of fire. Loud and deafening and it colours the surroundings yellow, orange and red and you can feel the heat on your face. Make it go away, make it go away, where is everyone else, where are they, you need to find them, get them out of here-
But as your vision clears, suddenly not blinded by the fire licking the walls and floors, curtains and chairs and couches, you see them. Whoever you need to bring to safety.
You recognise their bodies despite all the blood, know exactly. Which head. Belongs to which body.
All familiar. So very familiar.
You’re not sure why, but all you need to know is that they’re familiar. The shape, the clothing, the colour of the hair that covers the heads lying in pools of their own blood, like the bodies. Too much blood, too much, so much that the smell of it all is so strong it stings in your nose and tastes far back in your mouth. It makes you want to throw up.
The roaring, the smell, the wreckage, it makes you sick, it makes you dizzy. You clench your hand around your sword as some form of leverage, hard enough to turn your knuckles blinding white among all the colours, as you try to ignore how the blood that stains your cheek suddenly burns.
You know that it’s blood.
It makes you sicker.
You want to look away but you can’t stop staring, your eyes wide as you try to fathom it. These dead people, who you know.
Whose blood drips down your sword.
[The screen barely makes out Elliot once again jerking awake, panting and dripping of cold sweat, before his hand lashes out to whack the Hitomi onto the floor and turn the recording off. He’s not sure if that’s intentional or not.
And he curls up, grips his head with shaking hands as memories of being a child that he doesn’t care about right now flood his mind. "Because my family needs me! I can't be here too long!"
It hurts.]
No, actually, a more correct way to put it would be the roaring sound of fire. Loud and deafening and it colours the surroundings yellow, orange and red and you can feel the heat on your face. Make it go away, make it go away, where is everyone else, where are they, you need to find them, get them out of here-
But as your vision clears, suddenly not blinded by the fire licking the walls and floors, curtains and chairs and couches, you see them. Whoever you need to bring to safety.
You recognise their bodies despite all the blood, know exactly. Which head. Belongs to which body.
All familiar. So very familiar.
You’re not sure why, but all you need to know is that they’re familiar. The shape, the clothing, the colour of the hair that covers the heads lying in pools of their own blood, like the bodies. Too much blood, too much, so much that the smell of it all is so strong it stings in your nose and tastes far back in your mouth. It makes you want to throw up.
The roaring, the smell, the wreckage, it makes you sick, it makes you dizzy. You clench your hand around your sword as some form of leverage, hard enough to turn your knuckles blinding white among all the colours, as you try to ignore how the blood that stains your cheek suddenly burns.
You know that it’s blood.
It makes you sicker.
You want to look away but you can’t stop staring, your eyes wide as you try to fathom it. These dead people, who you know.
Whose blood drips down your sword.
[The screen barely makes out Elliot once again jerking awake, panting and dripping of cold sweat, before his hand lashes out to whack the Hitomi onto the floor and turn the recording off. He’s not sure if that’s intentional or not.
And he curls up, grips his head with shaking hands as memories of being a child that he doesn’t care about right now flood his mind. "Because my family needs me! I can't be here too long!"
It hurts.]