~...~ = Thoughts
"..." = Speech
The Sum of Sin
~Chandra
Something in the scene didn't fit; only pieces would make sense in his head, fragmented like memory. The sparkle of rosary beads caught his eye, their crystal imprisoning errant rays of candlelight before casting them out from prismatic depths and into the night. Such pretty little things, their innocent sparkle attracting his attention from their peaceful sleep upon a creamy pillow. There was something important about the beads, something that he should remember...but before the thought could form he was distracted again. This time by the silver glint of the crucifix nestled in stands of black satin that spilled over the floor. Its well worn-metal held an almost forlorn glow, calling his fingers to fix things...to make it whole once more, even now as his fingers sought to free it from the satin. But the satin wasn't satin it was hair. Long strands of black hair that he knew smelled of white plumb. Shaking fingers caught in its tangled web as they sought the now illusive silver.
Somewhere in the sharp edges, the painful seed of desolation caught root in his stomach. Diseased roots tangled painfully in his abdomen as his eyes traveled slowly over the tangles and pathways of wayward stands, their twists and curls as simply complex as the silver wire of the rosary. The thought drew his eyes once more to the crystal beads she had loved so much. Now the treasured artifact lay broken and forgotten making him want to weep for its loss. The tears that tried to cloud his sight fell in heavy droplets from his eyelashes...never brushing his cheek in their descent. The sickly vine twisted around his heart, sinking tendrils of panic into the rapidly constricting muscle and freezing his blood painfully in his veins until each spasm of the muscle made the act of living painful. Black spots danced at the edges of his vision, mocking him with their frantic movements. And the much-loved rosary did not rest upon a cream pillow, but instead upon torn and lacerated skin; which he knew smelled of white plumb as well. Skin whose feel he knew better than his own.
The revelation brought a chill of sickness through his muscles, nausea rising with a bud of terror that wrenched its way through his lungs, suffocating him as it forced the air from his throat. Breath fought its way through parted lips in quick gasps, searing his lungs as they sought to reject it.
Acting on a will of their own his eyes followed the scene, moving up and over a small chin to ruby stained lips. ~She's asleep~ The though slid easily through his mind, hiding the blue tinge of her skin from sight. ~She fell asleep waiting for me...it'll be alright, I'll just wake her up.~ Suddenly the room was shifting under him, black petals unfurling over his eyes. ~She's not dead...No...I refuse to believe it, a dream. That's all it is...Wake up...~ Voicelessly his mind raced inside his falling body, the darkness reaching up with the floor to embrace him. Still he was falling, spinning out of control with only the echo of his own voice and her name to steady him.
"Tomoe..!" The name was nothing more than a rasped scream, its anguished tones only serving to hasten his decent.
"Doctor Jones, Paging Doctor Jones..." A woman's voice broadcast through the reeling world, fading in and out of his mind as it called him back to reality.
Eyes strained for sight against heavy lids; fighting to see the word he had fallen into. Around him the bitter sterile smell of a hospital welcomed him, the sounds of people filling his mind. People walking, talking, breathing...Overwhelming him with their noise. The bustle closed in around him, making breathing difficult as it enfolded his senses becoming the only thing he knew. Just when the all-containing insanity threatened to over take him footsteps approached, their steady beat calling him back from the sound filled nightmare. The soft hum of a woman's voice followed him, not the same voice that had woken him, but another person. Smooth fingers with the unnatural feel of plastic encircled his wrist, trapping his arm in their iron grasp. Though he couldn't resist.
Inside his mind fought, everything that was him and knew it, fought against the heavy paralysis of his limbs. Instantaneous thoughts making the seconds before his eyes could open feel like days. The sharp prick of a needle helped his effort, and finally he could see through half lidded eyes. Gasping with the effort he watched red fingernails as they held his wrist. Something was being forced into him, he could sense it more than feel it. Sense the darkness that waiting inches below his thoughts, waiting for him to get distracted and drown in its depths. Something felt cold in his veins, creeping through his limbs and aided by his panicking heart.
"Sweet Dreams." The words were cheery, though only necessarily so. Sacrine-sweet tones of hate fallowing him into sleep with their curse. "You bastard." With a final silent scream he fell into the shivering medicated cold, black oblivion folding over his head and taking hard won sight away.
Finally his voice found him, the low familiar rumble coming moments too late, raspy from remaining un-used. Through the medication he called out in nothing words that only his mind knew, using the sound to focus. Then his thoughts began to gather again, dismissing the animal part that had fought to over come the medication. Words formed behind his eyes as he wrapped his mind around their syllables, memorizing each sound before finally sending the words out as an anker.
"I remember now, I can't remember yesterday... I just remember doing what they told me..." The hoarse rasp echoed through nights empty halls as the I.V. dripped its poison into him. In the unlit room amber eyes opened, depths smoldering from his prone body as his mind bid its time.
"..." = Speech
The Sum of Sin
~Chandra
Something in the scene didn't fit; only pieces would make sense in his head, fragmented like memory. The sparkle of rosary beads caught his eye, their crystal imprisoning errant rays of candlelight before casting them out from prismatic depths and into the night. Such pretty little things, their innocent sparkle attracting his attention from their peaceful sleep upon a creamy pillow. There was something important about the beads, something that he should remember...but before the thought could form he was distracted again. This time by the silver glint of the crucifix nestled in stands of black satin that spilled over the floor. Its well worn-metal held an almost forlorn glow, calling his fingers to fix things...to make it whole once more, even now as his fingers sought to free it from the satin. But the satin wasn't satin it was hair. Long strands of black hair that he knew smelled of white plumb. Shaking fingers caught in its tangled web as they sought the now illusive silver.
Somewhere in the sharp edges, the painful seed of desolation caught root in his stomach. Diseased roots tangled painfully in his abdomen as his eyes traveled slowly over the tangles and pathways of wayward stands, their twists and curls as simply complex as the silver wire of the rosary. The thought drew his eyes once more to the crystal beads she had loved so much. Now the treasured artifact lay broken and forgotten making him want to weep for its loss. The tears that tried to cloud his sight fell in heavy droplets from his eyelashes...never brushing his cheek in their descent. The sickly vine twisted around his heart, sinking tendrils of panic into the rapidly constricting muscle and freezing his blood painfully in his veins until each spasm of the muscle made the act of living painful. Black spots danced at the edges of his vision, mocking him with their frantic movements. And the much-loved rosary did not rest upon a cream pillow, but instead upon torn and lacerated skin; which he knew smelled of white plumb as well. Skin whose feel he knew better than his own.
The revelation brought a chill of sickness through his muscles, nausea rising with a bud of terror that wrenched its way through his lungs, suffocating him as it forced the air from his throat. Breath fought its way through parted lips in quick gasps, searing his lungs as they sought to reject it.
Acting on a will of their own his eyes followed the scene, moving up and over a small chin to ruby stained lips. ~She's asleep~ The though slid easily through his mind, hiding the blue tinge of her skin from sight. ~She fell asleep waiting for me...it'll be alright, I'll just wake her up.~ Suddenly the room was shifting under him, black petals unfurling over his eyes. ~She's not dead...No...I refuse to believe it, a dream. That's all it is...Wake up...~ Voicelessly his mind raced inside his falling body, the darkness reaching up with the floor to embrace him. Still he was falling, spinning out of control with only the echo of his own voice and her name to steady him.
"Tomoe..!" The name was nothing more than a rasped scream, its anguished tones only serving to hasten his decent.
"Doctor Jones, Paging Doctor Jones..." A woman's voice broadcast through the reeling world, fading in and out of his mind as it called him back to reality.
Eyes strained for sight against heavy lids; fighting to see the word he had fallen into. Around him the bitter sterile smell of a hospital welcomed him, the sounds of people filling his mind. People walking, talking, breathing...Overwhelming him with their noise. The bustle closed in around him, making breathing difficult as it enfolded his senses becoming the only thing he knew. Just when the all-containing insanity threatened to over take him footsteps approached, their steady beat calling him back from the sound filled nightmare. The soft hum of a woman's voice followed him, not the same voice that had woken him, but another person. Smooth fingers with the unnatural feel of plastic encircled his wrist, trapping his arm in their iron grasp. Though he couldn't resist.
Inside his mind fought, everything that was him and knew it, fought against the heavy paralysis of his limbs. Instantaneous thoughts making the seconds before his eyes could open feel like days. The sharp prick of a needle helped his effort, and finally he could see through half lidded eyes. Gasping with the effort he watched red fingernails as they held his wrist. Something was being forced into him, he could sense it more than feel it. Sense the darkness that waiting inches below his thoughts, waiting for him to get distracted and drown in its depths. Something felt cold in his veins, creeping through his limbs and aided by his panicking heart.
"Sweet Dreams." The words were cheery, though only necessarily so. Sacrine-sweet tones of hate fallowing him into sleep with their curse. "You bastard." With a final silent scream he fell into the shivering medicated cold, black oblivion folding over his head and taking hard won sight away.
Finally his voice found him, the low familiar rumble coming moments too late, raspy from remaining un-used. Through the medication he called out in nothing words that only his mind knew, using the sound to focus. Then his thoughts began to gather again, dismissing the animal part that had fought to over come the medication. Words formed behind his eyes as he wrapped his mind around their syllables, memorizing each sound before finally sending the words out as an anker.
"I remember now, I can't remember yesterday... I just remember doing what they told me..." The hoarse rasp echoed through nights empty halls as the I.V. dripped its poison into him. In the unlit room amber eyes opened, depths smoldering from his prone body as his mind bid its time.