Ritsuka "Loveless" Aoyagi (lovelessritsuka) wrote in the_tardis_trap, @ 2012-12-15 15:31:00 |
|
|||
Current mood: | depressed |
Who: Ritsuka and Open To Anyone
What: Trying to banish nightmares.
Where: Outside the kitchen.
When: Now.
Warnings: Initial mention of mild gore. Ritsuka's typical morbidity. And excessive rambling on the player's part (because Peter perambulates a lot).
It seemed that the TARDIS did not engender dreaming. Or perhaps freedom from the yolk of schedules and sunlight led its passengers to spend so many hours awake that they tumbled into exhausted oblivion. Since arriving in the space-vessel Ritsuka had seldom been plagued by the nightmares which haunted his Earth-bound life. Ample experience had taught him never to trust in a period of goodness; it would always end when one's defences were lowest. Thus he was neither surprised nor unprepared for the terrors' return.
Amongst newly devised torments were several familiar ones. He dreamt again of the broken chain (which dangled from its mooring in his chest as if he had been eviscerated). The iron length had once been slippery with blood but over time the ichor had dried and rusted each link. Four years was a long time even in dreams. To most a chain was a dark sign implicating bondage. To a Sacrifice, however, the severed end was what hobbled. He missed its comforting weight, the subtle tug behind his ribs, and faint vibrations that travelled down its length when he focused. In the initial weeks after Seimei took his partner Ritsuka had clung to that chain as if it were suspending him above a great precipice. But he never hauled on it again. Calling a restrained Sentouki was painful to them. And as much as causing Soubi pain Ritsuka feared that should he call the former would no longer hear. Their chain had not shattered; instead it gradually corroded until with an incongruously gentle 'snick' Ritsuka found himself utterly alone.
The sound of glass splintering was what liberated the troubled youth from slumber. A pale silver haze swam behind a veneer of tears. Ritsuka blinked until the futile grief cleared from his eyelashes. Broken shards glittered in the dim illumination of a night-light. It was the third glass of water that had spontaneously combusted this week. He would have to stop bringing drinks to bed--- even if going to the kitchen in the night was a bother. Halting the stabbing agonies of his night thoughts was obviously not the favoured option. Even now the sensation of being scraped hollow from the inside was potent.
After carefully gathering and disposing of the wet remains a persistent dryness of mouth led the teen to the kitchen. He left the glass on the countertop this time. Thirst now quenched Ritsuka considered returning to bed but discarded the notion. Night terrors had drained his strength but he dared not sleep again. Instead the boy curled into a foetal position against the corridor wall outside the kitchen door. The ceaseless warmth of temperature and light was comforting--- it reminded him of Soubi’s kitchen. One arm stretched out across the threshold. Light chased darkness into the shadows between his long fingers. He made a fist as if he could grasp the serenity of the kitchen and keep it.