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Rooms' Dreams ([info]roomsdreams) wrote in [info]rooms,
@ 2015-05-26 21:07:00

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Entry tags:*narrative, plot: dreams

narrative: reveal
What: Rise and shine
When: After the dreams
Warnings: None

It was almost funny how things came round full circle. Death to resurrection. And then die again only to be brought back once more. The circle was sickening, the sort of thing that made him nauseous, and life kept bringing him back to that.

The image of the twitching paw was fresh in his head when he returned to the shitty little motel he was calling home.

Resurrections are at three and seven. It's the best show in the house.

The words echo, pinging around in his thoughts as he unlocked the door with a key that had seen better days and shut it fast behind him. The locks were thrown, three of them, because he had already dealt with people trying to come in his room in the middle of the night and he just wasn't in the mood for that then. No, all he wanted was some peace. Some quiet. A little stability in a world that had been tilted on its side once more.

He laid face down on the bed, shoulders aching, nose pressed into the dingy comforter that was starting to smell less of the motel and more like him, a testament to how long he had been there. It took only a scant few moments for him to fall asleep, to let the proper dreams that had been denied him the night prior to wrap their arms around him once more and carry him off.

He dreamt of muggy nights and fireflies. Of the smell of perm solution and laughter.

He slept. And he forgot.

The hotel had a funny way of working sometimes. It giveth and it taketh, and no one was really in control of when that happened, were they? A wish given and a wish taken, and when he finally stirred, wings stretching, filling the expanse of the room for a brief moment, Liam didn't even realise what he had lost. There was a hole there again, one he had grown more than accustomed to, deep in his memories, names and moments carved out without care to the damage it caused.

But maybe it was easier to forget. Less painful that remembering.

So he forgot. Memories washed away beneath the lukewarm water pouring from the shower head, sluiced away with hands along with the soap that went down the drain.



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