(whack_a_muse) "It was all a bad dream, Spinning in your head"
Keep you warm at night.
(OOC: Again more with the Wayward Alec. Another time stampy thing a few days after this. )
He smelled pain. Taste it in the air and the back of his throat. Like blood and fear. Like sharp metal and latex. Like bright surgical lights and monsters in masks with only eyes.
He knows he's broken. Bleeding. Bones shattered by hard impact. Skin stripped by pavement. Walking wounded, except it was a fire fight. Bullets. And gravel and grinding bone.
They don't care about the hurt. About the screaming pain. It's easy to pin him down, to cut the bullets free, to yank bones back in line like good soldiers. But he can see his blood paint the world red.
It's bright and startling. Breath choking and heart stopping.
He let the breath leave his body and could only be grateful when it didn't betray him and pull in another. Heart finally resting, darkness drifting in. Calm following the cold that froze everything about him.
Until fire burned it's way in on a chemical path, heart hammering like a scare rabbit, lungs screaming. It crawl up and out.
The scream is nearly silent. Cold, so cold. He shook and shivered, almost convulsing with it. And it hurt. Everything hurt. Everything was pain. He could smell it and taste it in the air and the back of his throat. Like blood and fear.
Tears burned from the corners of his eyes. But he wouldn't open them. He wouldn’t. He'd rather die in the dark. And if he wasn't going to die then he didn't want to see it.
Muse: Alec McDowell/X5-494
'Verse: Wayward
Fandom: Dark Angel
Word count: 248
(OOC: Again more with the Wayward Alec. Another time stampy thing a few days after this. )
He smelled pain. Taste it in the air and the back of his throat. Like blood and fear. Like sharp metal and latex. Like bright surgical lights and monsters in masks with only eyes.
He knows he's broken. Bleeding. Bones shattered by hard impact. Skin stripped by pavement. Walking wounded, except it was a fire fight. Bullets. And gravel and grinding bone.
They don't care about the hurt. About the screaming pain. It's easy to pin him down, to cut the bullets free, to yank bones back in line like good soldiers. But he can see his blood paint the world red.
It's bright and startling. Breath choking and heart stopping.
He let the breath leave his body and could only be grateful when it didn't betray him and pull in another. Heart finally resting, darkness drifting in. Calm following the cold that froze everything about him.
Until fire burned it's way in on a chemical path, heart hammering like a scare rabbit, lungs screaming. It crawl up and out.
The scream is nearly silent. Cold, so cold. He shook and shivered, almost convulsing with it. And it hurt. Everything hurt. Everything was pain. He could smell it and taste it in the air and the back of his throat. Like blood and fear.
Tears burned from the corners of his eyes. But he wouldn't open them. He wouldn’t. He'd rather die in the dark. And if he wasn't going to die then he didn't want to see it.
Muse: Alec McDowell/X5-494
'Verse: Wayward
Fandom: Dark Angel
Word count: 248