Post by kuriboh on Jan 3, 2010 2:08:06 GMT -5
'Fuck let me go!'
Hands flew past his field of view - where they held his body, they did so with a bruising force. They had to, since the writhing form under them was surprisingly strong, not to mention as difficult to hold onto as that of any unruly child.
It was impossible to see anything - bright white light with an occasional, sepia-tinted shadow passing overhead. Sound was a bit more discernible; grunts and heavy breathing close by, some distant angry screaming somewhere far away. A sharp crash of something shattering, and a thing 'clanging' of tin hitting tin.
"Mama! Dad! Help me!"
Everything was drowned out then buy two rapid bangs, and even the lights and shadows above seemed to ripple at their magnitude. There was no more sound after that, and no more shadows - just bright white and bruising grabs that seemed to go on forever.
Sound returned eventually - a garbled jumble of distant voices that seemed like they came from underwater. This, too, continued forever, and it was absolutely maddening. Torturous, almost. .
The light, eventually, was eclipsed by a veil of dark hair arranged in perfect sausage curls. Everything seemed to go slack, then. Everything was suddenly alright. The sounds dissolved to white noise, the touches became gentle and the light was no longer blinding. He inhaled, and his nose was filled with a warm floral scent - sweet and mellow, and somehow he felt so very complete...
But wasn't Siobhan's hair blond...
Florian jerked awake in a cold sweat, startled by the sounds of his own cry. He found himself in a dark and unfamiliar place, and the icy hand of panic hovered over his heart before he remembered that he was no longer in Granada, but on his way to rejoin the fleet. Somehow, it was the humming of the mobile suit's systems, and the soft pressure of the Psycommu that grounded the boy as his heart slowed to normal and he stopped gasping for air.
He was sore - that much was abundantly clear, though whether the aches came from the tension that had boiled up in the nightmare, or from having been siting for 14 hours, Florian didn't quite know. He wanted out, though. Badly. The cockpit was rank with the smell of sweat, and Florian could feel it on himself. How disgusting. He'd be in a poor mood until he could clean himself off, now.
But lack of hygiene aside, what he remembered of the nightmare was bothering him. The Savior at the end....he knew it was a woman, but she had dark hair. Why would she have dark hair? Every woman Florian had known well (at least until Nadia), had either silvery or blond hair. And none had such perfect ringlets. Not even his own mane could boast that. And yet he'd felt so safe - the way he did when he was with Siobhan.
It didn't make sense. But dreams never did, and nightmares less so. Even by now he'd forgotten all but the very end. The rest couldn't have been that important, could it?
Florian's head hurt.
Hands flew past his field of view - where they held his body, they did so with a bruising force. They had to, since the writhing form under them was surprisingly strong, not to mention as difficult to hold onto as that of any unruly child.
It was impossible to see anything - bright white light with an occasional, sepia-tinted shadow passing overhead. Sound was a bit more discernible; grunts and heavy breathing close by, some distant angry screaming somewhere far away. A sharp crash of something shattering, and a thing 'clanging' of tin hitting tin.
"Mama! Dad! Help me!"
Everything was drowned out then buy two rapid bangs, and even the lights and shadows above seemed to ripple at their magnitude. There was no more sound after that, and no more shadows - just bright white and bruising grabs that seemed to go on forever.
Sound returned eventually - a garbled jumble of distant voices that seemed like they came from underwater. This, too, continued forever, and it was absolutely maddening. Torturous, almost. .
The light, eventually, was eclipsed by a veil of dark hair arranged in perfect sausage curls. Everything seemed to go slack, then. Everything was suddenly alright. The sounds dissolved to white noise, the touches became gentle and the light was no longer blinding. He inhaled, and his nose was filled with a warm floral scent - sweet and mellow, and somehow he felt so very complete...
But wasn't Siobhan's hair blond...
Florian jerked awake in a cold sweat, startled by the sounds of his own cry. He found himself in a dark and unfamiliar place, and the icy hand of panic hovered over his heart before he remembered that he was no longer in Granada, but on his way to rejoin the fleet. Somehow, it was the humming of the mobile suit's systems, and the soft pressure of the Psycommu that grounded the boy as his heart slowed to normal and he stopped gasping for air.
He was sore - that much was abundantly clear, though whether the aches came from the tension that had boiled up in the nightmare, or from having been siting for 14 hours, Florian didn't quite know. He wanted out, though. Badly. The cockpit was rank with the smell of sweat, and Florian could feel it on himself. How disgusting. He'd be in a poor mood until he could clean himself off, now.
But lack of hygiene aside, what he remembered of the nightmare was bothering him. The Savior at the end....he knew it was a woman, but she had dark hair. Why would she have dark hair? Every woman Florian had known well (at least until Nadia), had either silvery or blond hair. And none had such perfect ringlets. Not even his own mane could boast that. And yet he'd felt so safe - the way he did when he was with Siobhan.
It didn't make sense. But dreams never did, and nightmares less so. Even by now he'd forgotten all but the very end. The rest couldn't have been that important, could it?
Florian's head hurt.