myownfairytale said:
❥ 𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 [ 𝐀 𝐒𝐘𝐌𝐁𝐎𝐋 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄 ] .
👁️ + 🔁 your muse is watching mine sleep , when my muse suddenly wakes up & catches them .
Water, ice cold, salty, chilling him to the bone. It had reached past his eyes, blurring his vision and filling his lungs. No, no, it was the bullet wound that caused him to lose all feeling in his limbs, his fingers curled and blue from --
Rigor mortis. An early stage of decomposition; he was watching himself, on the surgical table, chest splayed open as a bright, white glowing figure operated on him. Focusing too much on it was painful, like gazing at direct sunlight.
And by the time his eyes blinked back open, he was on the table, watching his mother tend to his wounds, dabbing splotches of blood off his stitches. His lungs heaved; he wanted to move, reach up and touch her, but his arm still felt heavy, and stiff.
“Mum...” He murmured; and then, she was twenty years younger, and he was home in his old room back at their house in Alice Springs. Sick with flu. The soup she’d made was icy cold salt water. With every spoonful she fed him, her features visibly aged, until...
He had been the one who'd found them, still sat in their arm chairs. No visitors to their little house in the Outback, and the television had been blaring white noise. Out of service. Dead.
Rigor mortis.
An early stage of.
Decomposition.
“You hallucinated before brain death, mein freund.”
Sniper’s eyes opened as he sat up with a start, only to feel his panic rise as he realized there was a person stood over his bed. A shaky gasp escaped him, instinctively flinching away from them, but a moment later, he realized where he was.
Mick trembled, and hoped against hope that the sweat that coated his face masked the tears that he felt burning his eyes. Then, he leant forward, rubbing his face with his palms, letting them cover his eyes and block out the dim desk lamp light and the expression on the doctor’s face.
“How long was I out?”
