Oliver (number_ix) wrote in halcyon_houses, @ 2008-06-20 03:10:00 |
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Entry tags: | ezra |
Week Twelve: Thursday [narrative]
Who: Ezra
Where: Apartamento dele
When: Afternoon to early evening
What: It's that time again
It started with the sweating, then the restless nights. Ezra had his palms pressed against his aching eyes as he paced restlessly. Sharp turns. Three steps, turn. Three steps, turn. The room was in complete dissarray. If asked he couldn't say where Kenzie was. For the moment, he was trapped in his own world. His body and mind taking a toll to weather the raw lines of their shared universe. Reality was like an onion. Or a tree. Or a shape that is not solid or round, but layered and intertwined. Very frequently the layers between worlds grew weaker, or so Ezra believed, and this is what brought him to these states. Like most things in the universe, it happened with some regularity.
This had been coming for a while. For hours he'd feverishly rearranged the room as he grappled with how he came to own the shirt he was wearing. Ezra didn't know if this was his third or fifth or first time at Halcyon. Was he in the future? Was he in the past? Time was so relative when he'd looked so timeless for so long. His awareness encompassed his current face, the mirror was no help, it ate at his brain, sending him sweating as he placed chairs on their backs and stacked books underneath them. He'd nearly stepped with his woolen socks into a bucket of water inexplicably by the window. His shoes were somewhere, sitting toe to toe.
Ezra couldn't look at what he'd made. He knew what was coming. This was his training. To not give into dread. To not give into fear. To continue to fight the silent battle and steel himself against the fate to which he'd been conceived. Still, they came. His eyes tightly shut, waves of soft sky blue and violet infused light drifted across his left and right eyes as if a rock had been dropped into the water on either side just below his vision. They met where one's visions cross and were diluted. Slowly, however, the waves grew more and more distinct, until they were lines. He was frozen, hardly breathing, standing rigidly straight in the middle of the room. Like before you know you're going to vomit frozen.
Then the lines stopped coming from out of his sight and drew from the middle. Stretched out the middle and they were circles. Circles in circles in circles in circles. Ezra wouldn't know he was on the floor rather than standing up. Things like gravity and consciousness had little meaning to him now until either his mind or his body grew too weak to support this sort of intra-universal travel. His irises spun madly and often out of tune with one another. Ezra had left the building.