001 ✒ Dream ✒ In Which the Moon is Useless
Effects: temporary poor vision, unease, restlessness
Warnings: slight morbidity, but overall nothing hideous is going on here
He isn't drowning, but there's no land in sight. Simply an endless sea that reaches out to the horizon to embrace it. Liam's seen the ocean only a handful of times in his life and he suspects-were he to be dropped into the very middle of it-it would look something like this. Only, the real thing was made of water rather than grape jam (which Liam wasn't even overly fond of on his toast, let alone anything else).
His clothing is soaked in the substance and his glasses are useless; no matter how he wipes at the lenses, sugar residue remains and so he peers at the world in specks and spots.
There's something he has to do, but he can't remember what. His fingers burn with papercuts, so he's urgently sure it has to do with filling out some report, but which? Was it something for Xerxes or his master? Was it a letter that had to be delivered? Normally, he'd leave himself a memo if it was something so vital, but not this time.
How useless. Hmph.
While he can only see it in spots and blotches, the moon is so large overhead and its hare's ears stick out far on either side of its head. The peaceful smile blossoming over it's face-via craters and dark patches-only fills Liam with a sense of minute despair as if he's burned a pot of tea or dropped some fine porcelain.
Where is this in-between place? There's no answer to the question. Nobody ever gave it a name.
Thick, lead-gray scarves float through the sky and wrap around the stars, but Liam can't see them all that well and he's sick of being so far from dry land or a desk.
When does it end? he asks, because he has things he needs to do.
When you die, says the moon.
--------
[He doesn't wake up with a start, no. It's a lumbering buildup, and by the time he's discovered his Dreamberry and that it has-in fact-recorded what his subconscious dictated, he's no longer upset over the abrupt end to a perfectly strange trip into slumberland. Should anyone like to talk, he won't be lying back down again for some time.]
Warnings: slight morbidity, but overall nothing hideous is going on here
He isn't drowning, but there's no land in sight. Simply an endless sea that reaches out to the horizon to embrace it. Liam's seen the ocean only a handful of times in his life and he suspects-were he to be dropped into the very middle of it-it would look something like this. Only, the real thing was made of water rather than grape jam (which Liam wasn't even overly fond of on his toast, let alone anything else).
His clothing is soaked in the substance and his glasses are useless; no matter how he wipes at the lenses, sugar residue remains and so he peers at the world in specks and spots.
There's something he has to do, but he can't remember what. His fingers burn with papercuts, so he's urgently sure it has to do with filling out some report, but which? Was it something for Xerxes or his master? Was it a letter that had to be delivered? Normally, he'd leave himself a memo if it was something so vital, but not this time.
How useless. Hmph.
While he can only see it in spots and blotches, the moon is so large overhead and its hare's ears stick out far on either side of its head. The peaceful smile blossoming over it's face-via craters and dark patches-only fills Liam with a sense of minute despair as if he's burned a pot of tea or dropped some fine porcelain.
Where is this in-between place? There's no answer to the question. Nobody ever gave it a name.
Thick, lead-gray scarves float through the sky and wrap around the stars, but Liam can't see them all that well and he's sick of being so far from dry land or a desk.
When does it end? he asks, because he has things he needs to do.
When you die, says the moon.
--------
[He doesn't wake up with a start, no. It's a lumbering buildup, and by the time he's discovered his Dreamberry and that it has-in fact-recorded what his subconscious dictated, he's no longer upset over the abrupt end to a perfectly strange trip into slumberland. Should anyone like to talk, he won't be lying back down again for some time.]