[ He wakes abruptly, the way he might from a nightmare, but he isn't in his bed in that sun-drenched room back in Lumiere, and this time the nightmare was real. It takes him a moment just to try and breathe, eyes darting back and forth in animal fear, a blanket of shock thrown heavily over him. Merde, the— the others... Alan, Lucien, Margot...
Every part of him is sore; he feels drained to his very core, like there's not strength left whatsoever in his arms and legs, but he pushes himself up against the gravity working on him anyway, gets unsteadily to his feet.
It doesn't help. His mind is still a vast, muffled emptiness. The eyes that look around see but don't truly take in the waterfall, the pool, the soft green grass and bright flowers: yellow, pink, violet. Cheerful colors that clash with the abyss of screams and glaring bursts of chroma in his head. He breathes, but can't smell the fresh scent of greenery and growing things, his nose clogged with the scent of blood, of death. So many.... so many. And he's so utterly, profoundly alone. He's never been this alone before.
His heart gives a weird lurch, stumbling in his chest the same way it had when he'd pressed his back to that boulder and prayed the Nevrons would overlook him and Lucien and the others; his vision blurs and grays as his pulse flickers, trips, skips beats he needs it to take. He coughs, curls his hand into a fist, thumping his own chest a few times as if that might be able to still those panicked palpitations. He feels as though his heart will give out any second as he stands here, swaying, consciousness threatening to flicker and flee.
It doesn't, and when he looks again, he sees a path leading out of this strange, calm clearing. What was it Lucien had been shouting? Regroup.
Is there— is there anyone... left—
But it's something. A direction. An instruction. An order he follows by rote, barely conscious of making the decision to do so as he finally lurches into motion, stumbling his way along the path that winds its way through these small hills and rocks and trees, no idea what he might find ahead, all his thoughts still circling around what he'd somehow left behind. ]
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Date: 2025-05-30 04:43 pm (UTC)Every part of him is sore; he feels drained to his very core, like there's not strength left whatsoever in his arms and legs, but he pushes himself up against the gravity working on him anyway, gets unsteadily to his feet.
It doesn't help. His mind is still a vast, muffled emptiness. The eyes that look around see but don't truly take in the waterfall, the pool, the soft green grass and bright flowers: yellow, pink, violet. Cheerful colors that clash with the abyss of screams and glaring bursts of chroma in his head. He breathes, but can't smell the fresh scent of greenery and growing things, his nose clogged with the scent of blood, of death. So many.... so many. And he's so utterly, profoundly alone. He's never been this alone before.
His heart gives a weird lurch, stumbling in his chest the same way it had when he'd pressed his back to that boulder and prayed the Nevrons would overlook him and Lucien and the others; his vision blurs and grays as his pulse flickers, trips, skips beats he needs it to take. He coughs, curls his hand into a fist, thumping his own chest a few times as if that might be able to still those panicked palpitations. He feels as though his heart will give out any second as he stands here, swaying, consciousness threatening to flicker and flee.
It doesn't, and when he looks again, he sees a path leading out of this strange, calm clearing. What was it Lucien had been shouting? Regroup.
Is there— is there anyone... left—
But it's something. A direction. An instruction. An order he follows by rote, barely conscious of making the decision to do so as he finally lurches into motion, stumbling his way along the path that winds its way through these small hills and rocks and trees, no idea what he might find ahead, all his thoughts still circling around what he'd somehow left behind. ]