[first dream] voice

[smoke_koan]

[there is a click as the recording begins]

--mmm? [static. A few beeps as the Forge is inspected] These gadgets are far different from what I last remember. [the tapping of a nail on glass] Complex. I wonder...

[the creaking of bed springs. Footsteps, followed by the screech of unoiled hinges and a gust of air. There is a long pause as Haruka

Comments

[voice] [1/?]

[epicureanshield]

[there is a slight sound that comes over the Forge as Doumeki finds something...very familiar about this]

[voice] [2/3]

[epicureanshield]

[a long pause while he thinks about the speech pattern, the timbre of the voice, and contemplates for a few long moments before he finally speaks]

[voice] [3/3]

[epicureanshield]

[a low, quiet voice with a distinct twist of confusion]

...cigarettes.

[another pause]

I think I know.

[voice]

[smoke_koan]

[a long pause, followed by an almost indiscernible release of breath]

Hisoka?

[ooc note: "Hisoka" = temporary name for Shizuka's father because CLAMP hasn't given an official name.]

[voice]

[confinedintime]

[There was the sound of someone spit taking, the water he just attempted to drink just spewed out across the floor as he heard the voice on the Forge. A voice he had only heard in a few dreams, but remembered oh so well.]

Haruka-san?!

[his hands fumbled over the Forge, yeah saying nothing else... just staring at it, hoping to hear the voice again!]

[voice] xD aww, Watanuki. <3

[smoke_koan]

[pauses. A soft chuckle. This, perhaps, was less of a surprise. Though to meet in a place such as this...]

Hello again, Watanuki-kun. This is quite different from our usual encounters, isn't it?

[voice] ♥♥♥

[confinedintime]

[Hey, it was still a surprise for him. He had come to the idea that this was, in fact, NOT a dream. If Haruka is here though, it must be. Right?]

Now I know I'm dreaming...

This is different from usual... yes.

[Pause]

You're really here?

[voice]

[smoke_koan]

I am.

I'm afraid we're no longer in that world. [a light click of his tongue as he experimenally presses the mattress of the bed down, feeling the dust stick to the palm of his hand. The dream world was different from this place - it was more fluid, lighter. He was no longer able to feel the connection to that place, and the paths to other dreams that one could grasp at a thought were not present.

He found himself thinking of smoking. It was the first time since his death he was in want of a a cigarette.]

My son did say I should have stopped smoking when I was nearing fifty. Perhaps I should have followed his advice. [he smiles when he remembers that conversation.]