2024-10-27 17:58![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fireinthesunrise in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
wetendtotheflame
fireinthesunrise in wetendtotheflameTick.
There is a soft ticking somewhere.
He comes to with a gasping breath. Everything hurt. Even his skin feels like it had been burned when his clothes moves against him. Everything is a bright blur when he opens his eyes, the light stabbing down his optic nerves and making his stomach roil. Not wanting to potentially choke, he rolls heavily onto his side. For a moment, the world becomes a static hum of pain, and he is distantly aware of his body convulsing as his stomach empties whatever is in it.
Limply he lays and waits for the pain to shift. Slowly the world comes into focus. Near him, he sees someone else lying on the floor. A thought struggles to the surface, telling him that he knows that person is dead. A wave of guilt followed by confusion moves through his mind. Did he know them?
He tries to grab at his memories, but they feel used and worn. Second hand. This person had been his... friend? Probably. He can see in his mind's eye, like the memory of a memory, them giving him a smug smile and introducing themself as "Kite. Like the bird."
Slowly, he pushes himself to something resembling sitting, and this time, the wave of pain is not so bad. He takes steady breaths but resists the urge to close his eyes. Closing them for longer than a blink might return him to not being able to see clearly.
At his current vantage point he can see blood on the floor and spattered over Kite's body. However, it looks like it came from where he is sitting, not from whatever ended their life. Looking himself over he notes that the arms of his jacket have been shredded. Something tickles the back of his mind, but he can't quite get it to surface. He is also covered in blood. Not a massive amount, but enough he feels like he should have some kind of injury. However, beyond the pain he can't find anything. Nothing feels broken or out of place, and no cuts or wounds that he can find.
When he finally staggers to his feet he can see the pool of blood he had been laying in. Who's blood was that? Staying here and trying to figure that out feels like a bad idea. Now that he is in a position for mobility he is overwhelmed with the need to be away. Outside and away from here.
In his sudden desperate need he somehow pulls the door off of its hinges. Was that a normal thing? He doesn't remember doing something like that before. These thoughts spill through his mind as he awkwardly gets through the now broken door and out into the night. Above him he can see a slice of the night sky and he feels a sharp need to be up there. He coils and leaps. He tries. His vision fractures into a chaotic spill of perspectives and he can feel something reaching up. Arms? Legs? More than he thinks he should have.
Then pain rips through him. It feels like something is trying to tear him apart. He screams and he can hear something inhuman screaming with him. Before the pain washes out the world again, his last thought is wondering if that is what he sounds like.
There is a soft ticking. It's the old watch on his wrist.
This time when he opens his eyes he is somewhere else. Inside another small home. This time the door is not ripped off its hinges. It feels familiar. It smells familiar. It feels safe enough that instead of getting up he curls into a ball and lets the darkness of unconsciousness take him again.
There is a soft ticking somewhere.
He comes to with a gasping breath. Everything hurt. Even his skin feels like it had been burned when his clothes moves against him. Everything is a bright blur when he opens his eyes, the light stabbing down his optic nerves and making his stomach roil. Not wanting to potentially choke, he rolls heavily onto his side. For a moment, the world becomes a static hum of pain, and he is distantly aware of his body convulsing as his stomach empties whatever is in it.
Limply he lays and waits for the pain to shift. Slowly the world comes into focus. Near him, he sees someone else lying on the floor. A thought struggles to the surface, telling him that he knows that person is dead. A wave of guilt followed by confusion moves through his mind. Did he know them?
He tries to grab at his memories, but they feel used and worn. Second hand. This person had been his... friend? Probably. He can see in his mind's eye, like the memory of a memory, them giving him a smug smile and introducing themself as "Kite. Like the bird."
Slowly, he pushes himself to something resembling sitting, and this time, the wave of pain is not so bad. He takes steady breaths but resists the urge to close his eyes. Closing them for longer than a blink might return him to not being able to see clearly.
At his current vantage point he can see blood on the floor and spattered over Kite's body. However, it looks like it came from where he is sitting, not from whatever ended their life. Looking himself over he notes that the arms of his jacket have been shredded. Something tickles the back of his mind, but he can't quite get it to surface. He is also covered in blood. Not a massive amount, but enough he feels like he should have some kind of injury. However, beyond the pain he can't find anything. Nothing feels broken or out of place, and no cuts or wounds that he can find.
When he finally staggers to his feet he can see the pool of blood he had been laying in. Who's blood was that? Staying here and trying to figure that out feels like a bad idea. Now that he is in a position for mobility he is overwhelmed with the need to be away. Outside and away from here.
In his sudden desperate need he somehow pulls the door off of its hinges. Was that a normal thing? He doesn't remember doing something like that before. These thoughts spill through his mind as he awkwardly gets through the now broken door and out into the night. Above him he can see a slice of the night sky and he feels a sharp need to be up there. He coils and leaps. He tries. His vision fractures into a chaotic spill of perspectives and he can feel something reaching up. Arms? Legs? More than he thinks he should have.
Then pain rips through him. It feels like something is trying to tear him apart. He screams and he can hear something inhuman screaming with him. Before the pain washes out the world again, his last thought is wondering if that is what he sounds like.
There is a soft ticking. It's the old watch on his wrist.
This time when he opens his eyes he is somewhere else. Inside another small home. This time the door is not ripped off its hinges. It feels familiar. It smells familiar. It feels safe enough that instead of getting up he curls into a ball and lets the darkness of unconsciousness take him again.
