06-10-2009, 07:53 PM
No worries, there need to be priorities. I'm studying, so if I'm a little late myself, you know why =P
"They are both me, after a fashion," he replied as they ran up to the base of the hill that would be their salvation. A terrifying groan emerged from the channel they'd escaped. That channel extended back hundreds of miles, over a decade of history. It was impossible for him to ever know exactly when it would collapse in on itself, but he knew that time was coming. Suddenly, that groan was replaced by a screech. Somewhere along that line, a memory had broken through. The blood was flooding in, and its roar resonated deafeningly between the walls.
"Climb!" he yelled. The base of the hill was ringed with viscera, dried organs and draped skin. Sickening, but infinitely better than being swept away by the crimson wave that was about to overtake them. Doors to human cars, old rusty pipes, splinters of wood and bent nails jutted from the sides of the astonishingly tall island...no, not island, it was simply a pile of refuse. Random odds and ends he could rely on to take his mind away from the memories, if only for a short while. It was piled to a dizzying height, precarious in its balance by its unusually sharp gradient. Flimsy as it looked, he knew it would keep them above the tide for now. He wasn't always fortunate enough to find an island when the dam burst. Eventually, they reached the top, and the flow of scarlet washed out in a fierce torrent from between the walls, coming up to half-way up the island.
"That's impossible to say. I remember dying...twice. Once in body and once in spirit...not counting the times my other self should have died. Those scars aren't just in the dream...my body bore them, and they should have been fatal...but it wouldn't die. I don't know how or why I am dreaming again. Why are you here, in this dream?" His question was pointed, he had never encountered another living person in his dreams until after his death, when VoidFane had begun luring innocents into them. He did not want that to happen again. He had never found peace, but he had been certain he'd found oblivion.
"They are both me, after a fashion," he replied as they ran up to the base of the hill that would be their salvation. A terrifying groan emerged from the channel they'd escaped. That channel extended back hundreds of miles, over a decade of history. It was impossible for him to ever know exactly when it would collapse in on itself, but he knew that time was coming. Suddenly, that groan was replaced by a screech. Somewhere along that line, a memory had broken through. The blood was flooding in, and its roar resonated deafeningly between the walls.
"Climb!" he yelled. The base of the hill was ringed with viscera, dried organs and draped skin. Sickening, but infinitely better than being swept away by the crimson wave that was about to overtake them. Doors to human cars, old rusty pipes, splinters of wood and bent nails jutted from the sides of the astonishingly tall island...no, not island, it was simply a pile of refuse. Random odds and ends he could rely on to take his mind away from the memories, if only for a short while. It was piled to a dizzying height, precarious in its balance by its unusually sharp gradient. Flimsy as it looked, he knew it would keep them above the tide for now. He wasn't always fortunate enough to find an island when the dam burst. Eventually, they reached the top, and the flow of scarlet washed out in a fierce torrent from between the walls, coming up to half-way up the island.
"That's impossible to say. I remember dying...twice. Once in body and once in spirit...not counting the times my other self should have died. Those scars aren't just in the dream...my body bore them, and they should have been fatal...but it wouldn't die. I don't know how or why I am dreaming again. Why are you here, in this dream?" His question was pointed, he had never encountered another living person in his dreams until after his death, when VoidFane had begun luring innocents into them. He did not want that to happen again. He had never found peace, but he had been certain he'd found oblivion.