Niaezh. (Vibrations.) - Nero, Ayel
Night time in this place was night again. Slat windows to the outside, opened in the evening, kept it cool. A metal box with sliding metal windows just wide enough to fit his hand through. Night shouldn't have been night, should have been laced in black and forgotten.
His nausea cleared before dusk, let him settle and sleep as his mind twisted back into place. Thoughts wrapped around themselves and turned the glittering glass under, hid in sand that wasn't there. It bristled, knocked him awake in the night with a cold streak across his back and a shard in his spine. He was still for moments, minutes, or hours, he couldn't tell. It was dark when he pulled free of Ayel, darker still when he rose.
No light left the world in shade, left it in that same silent blackness he'd grown into. The window though, with a moon over this fake-Vulcan, dug at him. The light vibrated, vacillated too brightly and too dimly. She loved the moon, when it hung over the river, but here it was the wrong shade, the wrong truth.
His feet clipped the walls as he walked, turned, and walked. They picked up speed as the light passed its zenith, started to climb the far wall in rectangles and lines. It hit him, burned like star-light. His hands were clenched, his eyes closed, and no matter how he turned, walked and paced, he couldn't escape the not quite sound of it.
The world was stable, and it swallowed him whole. There was no fog, not this time, it had all burned away in this planet's sun.
His nausea cleared before dusk, let him settle and sleep as his mind twisted back into place. Thoughts wrapped around themselves and turned the glittering glass under, hid in sand that wasn't there. It bristled, knocked him awake in the night with a cold streak across his back and a shard in his spine. He was still for moments, minutes, or hours, he couldn't tell. It was dark when he pulled free of Ayel, darker still when he rose.
No light left the world in shade, left it in that same silent blackness he'd grown into. The window though, with a moon over this fake-Vulcan, dug at him. The light vibrated, vacillated too brightly and too dimly. She loved the moon, when it hung over the river, but here it was the wrong shade, the wrong truth.
His feet clipped the walls as he walked, turned, and walked. They picked up speed as the light passed its zenith, started to climb the far wall in rectangles and lines. It hit him, burned like star-light. His hands were clenched, his eyes closed, and no matter how he turned, walked and paced, he couldn't escape the not quite sound of it.
The world was stable, and it swallowed him whole. There was no fog, not this time, it had all burned away in this planet's sun.