Re: Dream: Janus/Atticus
The automatic movement made the clear dark eyes narrow even further. He glanced around the surface of the dream, looking for something, something that did not come. Mortal dreams could be fierce, uncertain landscapes, and he was here because he had paid to be here, but all he had gained was entrance. There was nothing to imply safety or control.
When the ground did not rise up to consume him with bloodied teeth, the jock turned to look over Atticus' face. He knew babble, babble as defense against fear. He blinked slowly, and argued because it was in his nature to do so. "It was that way. Compared to 'Nam, it was that way. Nobody looked at Pearl Harbor and said, 'Well, we'll just throw in the towel, then.'"
"That wasn't what I meant," he said, about the 'getting in your head,' issue.
Janus looked down, as if noticing his appearance for the first time. His hands wavered easy in the intervening space between them, and he dropped them. "It is me. I can change it for you." Sensing the disturbance and quick to correct, he lifted his hands to his hair, pushed back both palms over his ears, and stood a different man. He was nondescript, gray eyes, close-cut hair, John Deere hat, steel-toes on his feet.