The thoughts are accelerating inside his head. He wants them to slow down so he can remember to breathe but they won't. His breaths come in gasps and he feels the distinct shadow of darkness overtaking his vision. His heart is hammering inside his chest as though it belongs to a rabbit running for its skin. The field around him begins to spin and he squats against the dirt, trying to make everything slow to something his brain and body can cope with.
He feels sick. He's going to be sick. It's so dizzying. He wants to call for help but they're all to far away. On the other side of the Training Field, he's supposed to be guiding the higher classes in hand to hand. They're too far away. They're too far away. They're too far away. He doesn't know who to call, if he can call, is his voice still working. Who does he call, what's his name, who to call, too far away…..blackness…creeping blackness….He's on the dirt ground in the fetal position.
Where is he, what's his name, who to call, what's their name, the ground is hard, the field is spinning….blackness.
An invisible hand clasps over his mouth; an equally ghostly hypodermic of adrenaline pierces his heart, unloading in an instant. He feels his ribs heaving as if bound by ropes, straining to inflate his lungs. His head is a globe of fears spinning out of control, each one pushing his mind into blackness. He wants to run; he can't move. Sounds that are near feel far away, like he's no longer in the body that lies paralyzed on the rough dirt.
He can't breathe, oh Father, he can't breathe.
Help.
Help me.
Help.
"Han…Hani…." The voice, he knows the voice, follow the voice. "Haniel!"
There's warmth behind him, someone is hovering over him, the bright sun doesn't shine in his eyes anymore. It takes him an extreme amount of energy to look over, to get his eyes to move, the mere inch that he needs them to in order to see who's there.
"Haniel!" He knows that voice, he knows who it belongs to, what's his name. "Haniel, can you hear me?"
There's a soft grunt, is that him, is he the one grunting. He hopes its him.
"Haniel, can I touch you?" He feels the presence of hands hovering over him, waiting for permission, he appreciates it. "Is it okay if I touch you, Haniel?"
There's another grunt, he knows its him now, he's grunting.
Hands curl around his arm firmly, tugging him around, he gazes upon a face, he knows this face, why can't he place the name.
"Nisroc, he's having a panic attack."
"I can see that, Titus, thank you." Hands slowly uncurl his arms from around himself, it hurts, his muscles ache, why can't he loosen up. "Hani, Hani it's Nis, we're here." He stares up at him, he knows that face, he knows that name. "N…..i..s…?" is that him trying to talk? It sounds like him.
"I'm here, baby brother." A hand presses firmly to his chest. "We're all here." A hand cradles the left side of his face, it's cool to the touch, he's so hot. He likes the coolness, he leans into it, and presses closer. "We're going to help you upstairs, okay, we're going to go somewhere cooler and quieter, okay?" He nods, his head jerks lightly, another face appears. He knows that face too. That's Abraxos. He likes Abraxos. Abraxos always pokes him in the belly when they pass each other. They're close like that. Abraxos smiles down at him gently. "Let's get you to your feet, baby brother."
Hands curl under his shoulders, hook under his arms, and his world spins as he's lifted from the ground. They curl his arms around their shoulders, he's walking, is he walking, it feels more like stumbling, he's stumbling across the dirt of the Training Field.
He knows others are watching. It's quite the spectacle, a Power losing his faculties, dropping to the dirt like that. He doesn't blame them for staring. He'd stare too.
They're carrying him. There's no other way they got him across the field and to the stares that lead to the Pavilion above, other then the fact that they're carrying him, they have to be, there's no way he's walking.
Oh, that's soft, he likes whatever they sit him against, it's soft. Someone slides in behind him, their knees appear just outside the blackness creeping into his vision, arms curl around him firmly, a hand around his forehead pulls his head back to lay against someone's chest, a stubbly chin brushes against the side of his forehead. He can feel the rise and fall of their chest, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. Should he be breathing like that? He wants to. His chest is starting to hurt.
"Do you feel me breathing, Hani?"
He knows that voice too, he knows that voice rather well, they talk every morning. "P…ur…i…?"
"That's it, baby brother, it's Puri." A hand presses firmly to his chest. "You need to calm you're breathing, baby brother, do you feel my breathing?"
He nods, he knows he's nodding, he focuses on the rise and fall of the chest behind him and tries to mimic it, he struggles at first, he struggles terribly, but then he starts to manage. He takes a deep breath, holds it for a long moment, and then he lets it go.
"There we are, that's it baby brother, focus and mimic."
"Pu…ri….Hur…ts.."
The hand around his forehead, the fingers, they rub over his temple. "I know it does, baby brother, once you calm down I can give you something for the ache."
"Here, Hani, I'm going to press this to your forehead, okay?"
That's Titus, he knows Titus, they throw jokes at each other all the time. He nods lightly. The hand moves away from his forehead and something cool is pressed to it, it feels so nice, he's still so hot. "Let's get you cooled down, baby brother." Yea, that'd be nice, please help Tus. Someone's kneeling next to Tus, he remembers him, that's Abe, the one that pokes his belly. He's holding a cup up to his mouth. "Take a sip, baby brother, it'll help your sore parched throat."
He leans forward, his lips curl over the edge of the cup, and cold sweet water enters his mouth and splashes down his burning throat.
"N..is….Ni..s…" He takes another sip. "N..is?"
"I'm here, baby brother, I'm right here.
There he is, he disappeared for a minute, but he's back. Oh, that's a tunic, he's holding a tunic. His Captain, his big brother, Nis kneels before him, Tus and Abe part for him. "Let's get you into a new tunic, that one's all covered in dirt." Abraxos and Titus help him lift his arms, they're so heavy, like rocks, his dirty tunic is pulled over his head and the clean one pulled down in it's place. "There's a good angel. Now, let's lay you back, easy now." He's sliding, Puriel's moving, no, don't go anywhere, don't leave, was that whine from him. He thinks it was him who whined. Fingers stroke over his forehead. "I'm not going anywhere, baby brother, let's just get you laying down." Okay. He can do that. They're not leaving, that's what Puri said, they're just laying him down. Oh, that's a soft blanket, he likes that blanket, it smells like Nis.
Warm lips press to his forehead, a beard brushes over the skin, and he closes his eyes at the feeling. "Take a rest, baby brother, we're not going anywhere."
