[ dream ] for your muse to wake mine from a nightmare
there was no word to truly describe how he felt. the closest comparison was perhaps to say he was haunted. not by any ghosts, nor spirits. it wasn’t so simple, but it was impeding. sting was plagued by too many thoughts, flashes of images he tried to cast away. memories, experiences, and even things that have not yet come to pass. he didn’t want to believe what he learned. he didn’t want to believe such a future existed — a future where he . . . wasn’t enough. not strong enough. not important enough. he was naught but a speck of dust broken away from the stars. insignificant yet apart of something greater. he was a means to an end. a final breaking point that drove his dearest friend to unleash ultimate terror — curse the world to catastrophe. he couldn’t leave that idea alone.
sting laid quietly, eyes falling shut with hesitation. he drifts into slumber whilst counting the stars, the sound of sorano’s soft breath just a few feet away, in rhythm with the wind. their small campfire had begun to die, signaling that it was time to turn in for the night. their travels would have to resume in the morning. sting counts to fifty before his thoughts drift.
yet, he didn’t find peace on the other side. first came the feeling of anguish, the burden of fire and destruction. he chokes on smoke — no, it was blood. his own blood. he calls out a name that was so familiar to him. a name that he carried since he was a young boy. rogue. but the man didn’t turn around, no matter how much he shouted. his throat going raw, he felt his heart beat quicken. his breath going shallow until — he was pulled away from that dark reality in haste.
the fiery scene around him melts away, the feeling of a gentle hand firm against his chest. his breathing didn’t slow as his eyes peel open. his muscles were tense, a drop of cold sweat dripping down his forehead. his eyes frantically search, before stopping at the sight of her face. she came into slow focus, her pale features glowing beneath the rising moon. sting forces his uneasy exhales to a slow, teeth clenching in hopes to pull himself together.
❛ . . . sora ? ❜ he mutters, his voice rough. how embarrassing. clearly, he was shouting in his sleep. he lifts his hand with reluctance, hovering his palm before resting it on hers. sting tightens his hold, in hopes to stop that subtle tremble. ❛ shit . . . sorry — i didn’t mean to wake you. ❜
NON VERBAL MEME. ╱ selectively accepting !
