it's dark outside. the air is pierced with a sharp chill that seems to thread the little gaps in the house. one form is curled up on the couch, the other tossing and turning in bed.
"gordon" can't sleep properly. his hand seems to burn, and his eyes aren't working all too properly. he can't stem the blood. it won't stop, and it's already seeping out into the ground beneath his feet, turning into—
he looks up. the sky is a bluish-grey hue, dappled with galactic splashes of sunset orange, and purple cloud-like formations are scattered around here and there.
"gordon" feels himself sway. he isn't sure if it's from the blood loss, shock, or mental whiplash that has his legs so unstable, but he forces himself to stagger forward, catching himself on each step. the rock-like ground crunches beneath his feet. he can't comprehend his outfit right now, but he supposes that isn't the main point of the dream.
why am i dreaming about xen? he thinks bitterly. i'm not gordon. i should be dreaming about home. about the— the son i made up. my parents. i miss my parents. and my friends.
despite his resentful thoughts, he pushes onward. as he approaches the cave, he realises — the planet is barren. there's no bullsquids or headcrabs, and as he makes his way deeper into the cavern, the dread creeps up his spine.
before him stands… well, he isn't sure exactly how to explain it, and his brain would probably implode if you asked him what he saw. maybe it's a result of the muddy pictures that come inside dreams, or maybe there really is something before him that he could only begin to comprehend in the unconscious world.
before him stands a strange menagerie of colours and shapes he's never seen in his life. the closest way he can describe it is like looking into a kaleidoscope whose end cap is constantly being twisted and turned and rotated in all directions at once.
the longer he stares, the more dizzy he feels. "gordon" hopes it's just a dream effect and not some weird real life bullshit from the shock of the first part of his dream, that being the whole "stuck-in-your-character's-body" thing, of course. what else?
to hopefully spare himself, his eyes dart down to his right hand, and— fuck. unlike his left one, which is perfectly human and normal, his right hand is the same as the behemoth before him. the sight is sort of akin to if pins and needles could be visualised so clearly. it even feels like that, as if he's been sleeping on that arm for too long.
he can't tear his gaze away from his own multicoloured appendage. he bites down on his lip, willing himself to wake up, and he staggers forward. the mass of shapes twitches and buzzes against him and he shudders, thousands of tiny little static shockwaves being sent throughout his body. he lifts his human hand to touch it, and it feels oddly… fleshy.
and then, he can't see any more. it's all colours.
am i high? i've never had a dream like this before, i think.
just before he can dwell on that any further, he opens his eyes to look through the blinding light, which seems to be reflecting off the air particles themselves. he groans, forcing his way through, towards the dark shape near the end, but the closer he grows, the more the figure looks like a sort of mound. a snowman, perhaps?
…oh, god. that meltwater isn't water, is it? and that snow isn't snow. it's flesh and blood and pus and other disturbing fluids, all coming from a sack of whatever weird new xen creature this is, and when it turns around—
snowghoul
janainaart
vaporwave
areudirty
pixelskylines
tangentwithtanner
2087
stormborns
yousharknotpass
jbbartram-illu