[action | closed] forward-dated to night
21 December 2011 at 05:32 pm
[She shifts once in the unfamiliar bed before settling, leaning back a bit against the solid frame behind her that is now a natural thing. This might not be their room, and there might be questions if this bed will hold till morning, but at least this hasn't changed. So she goes to sleep like it's just any other night.
But it isn't the usual peace and rest she gains. Images, voices and events owned by another filter into her unconscious mind, slow at first before flooding in without pause, and her sleeping figure turns restless as she experiences the raw emotions they all bring, in tandem with the boy she dreams of.
His pure-hearted desire to help the helpless and be their shield, their sword. His bright admiration for such a great, kind figure.
His shame and loathing as he hides himself from the ones he protected with everything he had to give. His overwhelming despair at such an ugly betrayal, and an even uglier truth that nearly destroys him.
The torrent of anguish and hopelessness that threatens to drown him makes her feel almost physically ill, if that's even possible in one's mind, but mercifully the chain of memories comes to an abrupt halt there, and she starts awake-- throat and chest constricted, eyes pricking at the corners. It's hard to recall the last time she was close to crying from just emotions. Pressing the covers to her face, she quiets herself as she waits for her breathing to regulate again, praying she won't disturb the one next to her.
With the most personal, private of his thoughts and feelings still reeling in her own, talking to him would be... harder than normal]
But it isn't the usual peace and rest she gains. Images, voices and events owned by another filter into her unconscious mind, slow at first before flooding in without pause, and her sleeping figure turns restless as she experiences the raw emotions they all bring, in tandem with the boy she dreams of.
His pure-hearted desire to help the helpless and be their shield, their sword. His bright admiration for such a great, kind figure.
His shame and loathing as he hides himself from the ones he protected with everything he had to give. His overwhelming despair at such an ugly betrayal, and an even uglier truth that nearly destroys him.
The torrent of anguish and hopelessness that threatens to drown him makes her feel almost physically ill, if that's even possible in one's mind, but mercifully the chain of memories comes to an abrupt halt there, and she starts awake-- throat and chest constricted, eyes pricking at the corners. It's hard to recall the last time she was close to crying from just emotions. Pressing the covers to her face, she quiets herself as she waits for her breathing to regulate again, praying she won't disturb the one next to her.
With the most personal, private of his thoughts and feelings still reeling in her own, talking to him would be... harder than normal]
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