Phasma (phasmic) wrote in incompletedata, @ 2017-09-28 23:34:00 |
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Entry tags: | marvel: mcu: darcy lewis, star wars: canon: phasma |
Who: Phasma & Darcy Lewis
What: Darcy tries to lighten the mood. Phasma is baffled.
When: Very early Day 6
Where: Cave E, back near the hot springs
Warnings: Hunger Games, vaguely morbid dream imagery, illness, platonic nudity.
She dreamed of caves. Which, considering where they were was almost to be expected. But these were not the dark, humid caves that surrounded them with potential threats around every bend, these were the gently spiraling caves, slowly descending caves she had once known and were now little more than rubble and memory. She could almost smell the earth and the stale musty odor of rotting cloth and bodies. It clung to the back of her throat, sweet and cloying, and filled the back of her nostrils as the caverns unfurled one slow bend after another. It was darker here than she remembered it, but Phasma could navigate this place with her eyes closed. Somewhere, down in the depths of these tunnels, she knew she'd find what she was looking for, even if she didn't know what it was just yet. All she needed was her instinct. Resolute, she traced a worn, smooth path down the center of the tunnel, her fingertips trailing along the cool wall at her left. Down, down. The scent got stronger and her stomach rolled, but she remembered what she had been told once, the first time she had encountered real death, and drew in heavy breath through her mouth. Her head throbbed but her stomach calmed and she pushed on. Soon, the darkness unfolded into a faintly illuminated chamber just off the right, the scent of burning driftwood and familiar spices lingering nearby, and Phasma ducked in to find a body wrapped in tattered rust-red and black cloth. Body to body, dust to dust, she heard a nearby voice say, though there was no one else there with her. You took a great risk... came another voice, this one closer, as though it was spoken right in her ear. What have you become, Phasma? She shook her head, shook away the voices, and rubbed her eyes as she turned away from the room and the body in it. Alone. It wasn't how things should be, she thought, none of it was right. This wasn't how it was supposed to end. The darkness washed over her again and the smell of damp caves and rotting cloth was replaced by the smell of damp caves and sulfur. Phasma's head throbbed and her skin burned, her entire body aching as she rolled over on the blanket and shoved the sweat-sticky cloth away and rolled to sit with her knees to her chest. It had been hours, but she felt like she'd gotten no sleep at all. Darcy was still on watch, and Phasma gave her a brief nod as she pushed herself up and grabbed her knife and her pack from the ground and started off towards the back of the cave. This was ridiculous. Dameron's prescription was giving her no relief at all, she was going to do things her way. She could feel the steam from the hot spring yards before she reached it, threatening to lull her back to sleep even as the stench of sulfur dragged her back from that edge. It made her waver for a moment, just a moment, then she shook that off again and dropped her bag on the ledge of the pool before she started stripping off layers of sweaty, dust-covered clothing. One piece at a time dropped on top of her bag until she was down to just her underthings, then she cast a glance over her shoulder and peeled those off as well before stepping into the steaming hot water. It didn't burn the way the pools on Parnassos did, the heat seeped into her skin and through her muscles, down to her bones, and Phasma slumped against the heated rocks, letting her forehead rest there, the smooth edges jutting against her ribs and hips. |