| [Jun. 12th, 2009|03:02 pm] |
Tsume might have choked off a yelp as silence and darkness descended again. It should have been better this time. She should have known what to expect.
Her mind reeled as nothingness reigned again, as if the absence of sound and sight could suck her into a void regardless of the world around her.
She'd stood when Asuma had leaped; now only her feet were in contact with anything real, and she fought back panic.
It was just like before. It wasn't permanent. She swung an arm and felt the cold metal of the wall, falling against it as if it was the only thing keeping her alive.
This was real. This was real. She knew she was breathing, but couldn't hear it. Couldn't quite tell how fast until she put the heel of her hand against her breastbone and felt both her chest moving and her heart pounding.
She was not having a panic attack over a weapon her own blood-ticked village had created. Think. She needed to think.
Asuma was here somewhere. She could smell stale cigarettes and the sweet-spice of nicotine. She pushed away from the wall, into the void, toward his scent. One step, and two. The farthest she'd ever traveled, trying not to imagine what the ninja above could be doing.
Three steps into the void. Maybe there was no other wall. Maybe there was nothing.
Four steps. She held her arms out, searching for anything, and found only silence and blackness at her fingertips. But she could smell Asuma.
Five steps. She couldn't even hear her own voice through her bones, though she knew she was speaking. She was speaking. She was trying to speak. Nothing was coming out. Nothing was coming back.
And then she fell over Asuma.
There was movement, twisting, a hand grabbing her knee, her waist, one arm--searching, she realized. He was searching for where to catch hold. When he found her wrist he held tight, fingers almost bruisingly painful.
She couldn't tap out the code she'd meant to from here, but it didn't matter. She didn't fight, and trusted he'd stop. She could feel him, and smell him, chilled flesh warmer than their surroundings, his cigarette stench and hard muscles. In their tangle she could feel the floor, and even that contrast rooted her back in her body.
She pushed her free hand to her sternum, counting her breaths, measuring them out, trying not to hyperventilate. Her heartbeat was too fast. She swallowed and focused on touch and scent, closing her eyes. The darkness was her choice.
The silence--
The darkness was her choice. |
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