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Aiden Shepard [ Abraham Van Helsing ] (arcere) wrote in bellumlogs,

He knew that getting in another hit was basically signing his death warrant, but at the moment it didn't matter. He couldn't see straight, he couldn't move properly, he was in pain, and the sight of his fist connecting with Vlad's jaw was a soothing balm to his soul. But it was all temporary as the bastard roared and threw himself forward, and Aiden squeezed his eyes shut, expecting to feel the agony of teeth puncturing his throat, pulling, tearing, rending his neck open and leaving him to bleed out, to die on broken, bloody stonework among a thousand impaled mannequins --

-- and then that pain turned into a a real throbbing in his skull as he toppled off his chair and slammed into the floor, waking up with startled suddenness that nearly stole his breath. Aiden choked and clawed at his shoulder and neck for almost half a minute before reality sunk in. He blinked to clear his vision, seeing just his floor his desk, his computer, the books and papers that had failed to cushion his fall. Seeing a waking life, real and existent. And no Vlad.

... nothing.

For a minute Aiden sat and stared blankly, recollecting his thoughts, running through the dream in his head; then he snatched up the nearest book and flung it at the far wall with a cry of rage.