Flashes – that was all he saw and remembered. The ground was trembling and the building was crumbling behind him.
Metal – flashes of sliver against the moonlight. Something fell out of his hands while he was moving away from the falling building. Blood stained his clothes – his blood mixed with someone else's. Pain racked through his body as he stumbled away. He fell to his hands, crawling, before he gratefully fell unconscious…
He was thirsty, incredibly thirsty. His throat was dry, as if he hadn't drank in years. Some kind of liquid was poured down his throat, something tasteless, but it didn't soothe his parched throat. The liquid didn't do any good. Then a new liquid filled his mouth, something thicker and warmer and with more taste. It calmed the dryness in his throat, but as soon as the liquid stopped flowing, the burning in his throat grew to a new height. He growled, wanting that taste again. A drop of the ambrosia landed on his lips and he languidly licked it away, savoring the taste that it left in his mouth. Something cold pressed against his lips and he eagerly opened his mouth, hoping that it was another taste. Instead, it was cold and unpleasant in taste. It calmed his throat, but it didn't tickle his taste buds like before. He unwillingly drank the poor imitation, half-hoping that the next time he drank something; it would be the same nectar again.
The authentic taste came back, but it was always followed by the substitute. Soon, the taste began appearing less and less, until all he could taste was the alternate. The pain in his body lessened, so the replacement did do some good. His mind was becoming clearer too, less fuzzy. His ears often heard the sound of someone humming, a female. The voice was warm, talking to him softly and continuously, as if he can answer her. He noticed that she was the only one talking to him for a while. That is, until he heard another voice, something very familiar. It was cold and toneless, but familiar and female. Another voice often joined that voice, a male, and he was detached as the female. He was familiar too. They stayed and talked for a short time, but he could never make out their words. They would leave, and then come back again, always the two of them. The time that they were gone were filled up with that soft voice.
She hummed to him, a soothing melody. She cared for him gently, her fingertips always soft, soothing, and cool. Her skin felt like silk. She never touched him with aggression. It was never painful and he immersed himself in the attention paid on him…
(A/N: Just the prologue for now. Since it is the beginning, I'll be updating again tomorrow around 7ish. Stay tuned, I promise that it'll get better, so please leave a review, I'd love to hear from you.)