[ For a couple of hours, nothing but peaceful silence reigns within the tent.
Then the whimpering begins. Soft words uttered in a foreign language which her Echo may or may not allow her to understand. 'No,' he says repeatedly. There's faint rustling as he shifts restlessly in place, breath coming short and shallow. He calls out other names, quietly, earnestly, finishing on a pitiful whimper. Attempts to wake him do not succeed. Trapped in a nightmare that will not free him until it is done, he tosses and turns fitfully. His teeth grind and his lips pull back into a snarl. The star plushie is unconsciously clutched tightly to his chest, squeezed to within an inch of its life.
The last name he murmurs sounds forlorn and desperate. Yet just as she may be leaning forward to try and catch it, he suddenly shouts. ]
No!
[ His eyes fly open and he lurches upright, hand flung out to grasp at something (someone) only he can see. Heart pounding, light sweat beading his brow, Emet-Selch shudders as the nightmare slowly loosen their grasp on his psyche and slips back into the dark. His hand drops to his side; his head bows.
cw: implied suicidal thoughts
Then the whimpering begins. Soft words uttered in a foreign language which her Echo may or may not allow her to understand. 'No,' he says repeatedly. There's faint rustling as he shifts restlessly in place, breath coming short and shallow. He calls out other names, quietly, earnestly, finishing on a pitiful whimper. Attempts to wake him do not succeed. Trapped in a nightmare that will not free him until it is done, he tosses and turns fitfully. His teeth grind and his lips pull back into a snarl. The star plushie is unconsciously clutched tightly to his chest, squeezed to within an inch of its life.
The last name he murmurs sounds forlorn and desperate. Yet just as she may be leaning forward to try and catch it, he suddenly shouts. ]
No!
[ His eyes fly open and he lurches upright, hand flung out to grasp at something (someone) only he can see. Heart pounding, light sweat beading his brow, Emet-Selch shudders as the nightmare slowly loosen their grasp on his psyche and slips back into the dark. His hand drops to his side; his head bows.
Ah. Still, he lives. ]