Ryou jolted awake
The bed under him groaned a distinctively different tone than what he was used to; well loved and well worn rather than just unmistakably broken. He was tightly tucked in as well, a strangely familiar occurrence rather than finding himself waking in the tossed bed of a restless sleeper.
However, it was undeniably cozy.
He felt different in unfamiliar surroundings. ~Safe~ somehow. Despite his stomach's continuous protests, he lay there peacefully, in a wandering state of mind.
He always was the wanderer. . .wasn't he?
After his eyes recovered enough to see clearly, he was surprised to find the window shades tightly clamped shut, only betraying the glittering dawn on its restricted crack-frame. Soon after his eyesight, came his sense of smell. It was no longer that musty aura of household neglect, but an exotic taste of musk, jasmine and cinnamon, pleasurably intertwining themselves. Ryou suddenly shuddered for not connecting the dots before.
The boy squinted wearily. Managing to use his vision to it's stretched extreme, he could only just make out a neatly framed acrylic painting, hung over the dresser. His lips tightened in a jest of a smile, but at least it was sincere at the memory. He had given them his beloved painting of the three god cards' images, as a sort of unofficial seal to a blossoming friendship. He always looked back on it as one of his better pieces.
That settled it.
He was in the Ishtal's home, but how? And more importantly ~why~?
Ryou somehow managed to thrash enough to loosen the death-like grip the bed linens were suffocating him with, and carefully stood upon the tan carpeting. He found himself still clothed in yesterday's selection (not that it changed much anyway), and with a faint tinge of blush on his cheeks, he found his sneakers included.
He tried to adjust the position of his khaki pants, but they still seemed strangely uncomfortable, and ~stifling~ almost.
/Must be gaining some weight. . .strange./
In fact, Ryou ~did~ feel stranger than usual. Oddly. . .empty, yet fuller somehow.
/I hope I wasn't too much of a nuisance. . ./ he thought, still instinctively trying to straighten his pants again. /But what an odd dream. . ./
It had been clearer, more vibrant than any other dream he remembered before, but that's all it was. That was a bit disappointing, but he should have known better, nothing that turned out so well could be anything remotely near reality.
But that was what dreams were for, right?
More questions, with hopeless answers. . .
For some reason, that thought made his head spin, causing him to feel a bit queasy as well. Ryou clutched his stomach with a grimace of internal discomfort, not quite sure if it was just a reaction to pain, or one of the instinctive physical action of dread.
/I have to go back, i-it my home after all./ though after the recent events of being alone with himself, it was hard even to convince himself of that.
The lump that conjured in his throat wasn't bad enough anymore to choke him like it always used to, but the vivid impression of a widening tangerine, was not particularly comfortable. Though it was something that he had never fully accepted, ~couldn't~ be accepted, it was a dreaded inevitability that had slowly become routine.
Ryou buried his face in his icy fingertips, legs bent over the side of the bed. He pushed his eyeballs farther into their sockets, as some sort of painful comfort.
The action, though relieving, seemed unusual in a way, and he quickly withdrew his delicate hands from his face. A few stray locks tickled his nose and slowly settled as he turned his gaze downward.
There went that dizzy feeling again.
It's strength had increased since its last strike, now forcing him to grope tightly at the linen sheets with a curved fist, and face. Ryou's breath began pumping in breaths of a different rhythm, and he failed in keeping himself even remotely steady.
However, he was more startled with what he ~thought~ he saw. The simple idea was enough to drain what little blood his face held in the first place; he ~had~ to make sure.
A mirror in the corner reflected the sharp light around the window. He managed to barely stumble up, feeling his restricted shoes ache at the sole, and sending waves of fiery pain up his entire legs. That unfavorable sensation was coupled with a strange weighted feeling hammering at his already-shaky stance, but he narrowed his melted-chocolate eyes, eventually succeeding in locating a light switch.
Ryou flipped it up sharply.
He groaned from the top of his throat, as the sudden and considerable light shone down from above.
With the other arm, the one that wasn't currently supporting his stomach already, he shielded his reddened eyes from the exposure to the artificial mastery. He probably would have appeared quite unconstructive if anyone happened to walk in on him at that moment, he thought, and the glittering stars dancing under his eyelids giggled appreciatively at his impudence.
That was when he first saw his reflection.
His arms dropped harshly to their sides, completely oblivious, completely forgotten.
/Oh my. . .no. . .OH MY GODS!!!/
~*~*~*~
*Sigh* sorry about the shortness, but for tension-based reasons, I had to end it there for now. That, and the fact that I am completely overusing repetition, and I sound like a. . .corny fantasy novelist wannabe. Now that's a scary thought. . .
Meanwhile, in the disappointing setting of my ever-prolonging reality, I happened to see 'The Two Towers' on Friday. Man. Totally awesome, and in my opinion, better than the first. This is coming directly from someone who had taken film classes for three years, mind you.
Now hopefully, since it IS winter break and all, the next update won't take quite as long. Look for it *gasp* as early as this week. I'll start typing it up after I update 'Forgotten Promises' again, because I'm at a climax there as well.
Urges to update sooner are always welcome, sent in more than one way ^^
Happy Holidays everyone!
giggle
The bed under him groaned a distinctively different tone than what he was used to; well loved and well worn rather than just unmistakably broken. He was tightly tucked in as well, a strangely familiar occurrence rather than finding himself waking in the tossed bed of a restless sleeper.
However, it was undeniably cozy.
He felt different in unfamiliar surroundings. ~Safe~ somehow. Despite his stomach's continuous protests, he lay there peacefully, in a wandering state of mind.
He always was the wanderer. . .wasn't he?
After his eyes recovered enough to see clearly, he was surprised to find the window shades tightly clamped shut, only betraying the glittering dawn on its restricted crack-frame. Soon after his eyesight, came his sense of smell. It was no longer that musty aura of household neglect, but an exotic taste of musk, jasmine and cinnamon, pleasurably intertwining themselves. Ryou suddenly shuddered for not connecting the dots before.
The boy squinted wearily. Managing to use his vision to it's stretched extreme, he could only just make out a neatly framed acrylic painting, hung over the dresser. His lips tightened in a jest of a smile, but at least it was sincere at the memory. He had given them his beloved painting of the three god cards' images, as a sort of unofficial seal to a blossoming friendship. He always looked back on it as one of his better pieces.
That settled it.
He was in the Ishtal's home, but how? And more importantly ~why~?
Ryou somehow managed to thrash enough to loosen the death-like grip the bed linens were suffocating him with, and carefully stood upon the tan carpeting. He found himself still clothed in yesterday's selection (not that it changed much anyway), and with a faint tinge of blush on his cheeks, he found his sneakers included.
He tried to adjust the position of his khaki pants, but they still seemed strangely uncomfortable, and ~stifling~ almost.
/Must be gaining some weight. . .strange./
In fact, Ryou ~did~ feel stranger than usual. Oddly. . .empty, yet fuller somehow.
/I hope I wasn't too much of a nuisance. . ./ he thought, still instinctively trying to straighten his pants again. /But what an odd dream. . ./
It had been clearer, more vibrant than any other dream he remembered before, but that's all it was. That was a bit disappointing, but he should have known better, nothing that turned out so well could be anything remotely near reality.
But that was what dreams were for, right?
More questions, with hopeless answers. . .
For some reason, that thought made his head spin, causing him to feel a bit queasy as well. Ryou clutched his stomach with a grimace of internal discomfort, not quite sure if it was just a reaction to pain, or one of the instinctive physical action of dread.
/I have to go back, i-it my home after all./ though after the recent events of being alone with himself, it was hard even to convince himself of that.
The lump that conjured in his throat wasn't bad enough anymore to choke him like it always used to, but the vivid impression of a widening tangerine, was not particularly comfortable. Though it was something that he had never fully accepted, ~couldn't~ be accepted, it was a dreaded inevitability that had slowly become routine.
Ryou buried his face in his icy fingertips, legs bent over the side of the bed. He pushed his eyeballs farther into their sockets, as some sort of painful comfort.
The action, though relieving, seemed unusual in a way, and he quickly withdrew his delicate hands from his face. A few stray locks tickled his nose and slowly settled as he turned his gaze downward.
There went that dizzy feeling again.
It's strength had increased since its last strike, now forcing him to grope tightly at the linen sheets with a curved fist, and face. Ryou's breath began pumping in breaths of a different rhythm, and he failed in keeping himself even remotely steady.
However, he was more startled with what he ~thought~ he saw. The simple idea was enough to drain what little blood his face held in the first place; he ~had~ to make sure.
A mirror in the corner reflected the sharp light around the window. He managed to barely stumble up, feeling his restricted shoes ache at the sole, and sending waves of fiery pain up his entire legs. That unfavorable sensation was coupled with a strange weighted feeling hammering at his already-shaky stance, but he narrowed his melted-chocolate eyes, eventually succeeding in locating a light switch.
Ryou flipped it up sharply.
He groaned from the top of his throat, as the sudden and considerable light shone down from above.
With the other arm, the one that wasn't currently supporting his stomach already, he shielded his reddened eyes from the exposure to the artificial mastery. He probably would have appeared quite unconstructive if anyone happened to walk in on him at that moment, he thought, and the glittering stars dancing under his eyelids giggled appreciatively at his impudence.
That was when he first saw his reflection.
His arms dropped harshly to their sides, completely oblivious, completely forgotten.
/Oh my. . .no. . .OH MY GODS!!!/
~*~*~*~
*Sigh* sorry about the shortness, but for tension-based reasons, I had to end it there for now. That, and the fact that I am completely overusing repetition, and I sound like a. . .corny fantasy novelist wannabe. Now that's a scary thought. . .
Meanwhile, in the disappointing setting of my ever-prolonging reality, I happened to see 'The Two Towers' on Friday. Man. Totally awesome, and in my opinion, better than the first. This is coming directly from someone who had taken film classes for three years, mind you.
Now hopefully, since it IS winter break and all, the next update won't take quite as long. Look for it *gasp* as early as this week. I'll start typing it up after I update 'Forgotten Promises' again, because I'm at a climax there as well.
Urges to update sooner are always welcome, sent in more than one way ^^
Happy Holidays everyone!
giggle