![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small}
i_amaleaf [No navigator to guide my way home -- Narrative / Open]
Once when he was a child of seven, Wash had had a very bad fever, he could remember the days leading up to it and he could remember the vivid, vivid dreams he had had. They had been about a talking clam. In other words they didn’t make a whole lot of sense, but they had seemed very real at the time.
They had seemed like this. This being the city that surrounded him, and while it seemed very real; it also didn’t make a lot of sense. A person didn’t go from landing a ship, to sitting on a park bench. Besides, he didn’t have a fever (far from it, thanks to the hole in his jump suit he was feeling rather cold) and he could remember feeling sick before the fever had hit. Maybe he had hit his head when he was landing the ship, had blacked out and –
"Wo de ma!"
( Read more... )
They had seemed like this. This being the city that surrounded him, and while it seemed very real; it also didn’t make a lot of sense. A person didn’t go from landing a ship, to sitting on a park bench. Besides, he didn’t have a fever (far from it, thanks to the hole in his jump suit he was feeling rather cold) and he could remember feeling sick before the fever had hit. Maybe he had hit his head when he was landing the ship, had blacked out and –
"Wo de ma!"
( Read more... )