bornaslave (bornaslave) wrote in whoville, @ 2009-06-30 11:20:00 |
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Current mood: | lost |
Entry tags: | bornaslave, notveryspock |
Open
The silver was rushing through his veins and he welcomed the sweet oblivion of death. He'd been parted from Sonja too long.
Oblivion came, followed by pain, pain akin to that of shifting back, a human form forced upon your spirit. He opened his eyes, growling still, lost and confused. Surely death did not lead to a hotel suite. Surely his heart should not be beating still. The place smelled wrong, felt wrong, his shirt was ripped and bloody, the smell of silver clung to him. He had died, and been taken here, to be brought back to life.
He erupted into the hallway, expecting an attack any second, but reached the stairs without encountering anyone. He jumped down them a flight of stairs at a time, only to find himself face to face with someone a few floors down.
"Where are we?" he asked, his tone entirely more polite than the wolf raging inside him demanded.