☄ dissecting dreams

[auncyenhalig.livejournal.com]

[ Aerith writhes on the operating table against the bonds that hold her down, squinting at the harsh glare of the light above her. She's scared.

She's ... so ... scared. And she can't remember when reality ended for her, or if she's still in it. Tseng was going to take her to the labs, so maybe this is her new reality. She wants to scream Why?, but she already knows. It's only been his mission, and her nightmare, for the last fifteen years.

At least he let her go this long. He let her save Marlene.

Please, someone save me! Cloud!

No one is coming. She's heard the sniggering and all too giddy explanation of how the Ancient could finally be "properly examined". She was ready, as much as anyone could be, for the clinical undressing and observation, the cold and callous fingers on her skin, and she'd kept up protests even though he only ever listened to hypotheses and results.

She had not been prepared for the scalpel. When it cuts into her, she doesn't scream but cry silently --

I'm scared

-- and she hates it. She isn't supposed to be here. She isn't supposed to be so afraid. She'd promised herself she'd never be that helpless little girl from the labs again.

I can't do anything ... I can't move ... If this isn't real ... why can't I wake up?

The hand holding the scalpel applies more pressure, sinking the blade further in, and Aerith jolts, wide-eyed --

I'm not helpless! You're not the one in charge here!

-- and makes herself stop feeling fear or pain or really, much of anything at all. ]

✯

The funny thing about dreaming is that you can be anyone you want and a few you don't, and sometimes your subconscious simply isn't on your side.

✯

[ The crying stops.

Aerith eyes the deep incision from the scalpel, then calmly pulls it out. Turning from the body on the table, she washes the instrument off before setting it aside ... it's now that the dream enters Passing. ]

✯

Hello ~

[ There is an operating table. You are on it, faced up to a harsh white light. A similarly harsh smell of chemicals lingers nearby.

You may struggle. The straps are tight enough to make it useless. ]

Don't be scared, please. [ It is a calm voice; it comes from the same direction as a figure in a lab coat, pink popping out in contrast to the plain white. Aerith steps forward and rests a scalpel to the side, smiling down at the new subject, though the gesture seems a little sad. The old one just didn't last ... ] It doesn't help.

[ But why should she be scared? She's the one in charge here. ]

Comments

[waterfell.livejournal.com]

[Fear is the furthest thing from her mind. She doesn't mind the pain; intense as it is, she can forget it behind the necessity of keeping her mind clear to find the way out of this place. Her eyes rove the room, searching out any path, any tool.

No, what Ami hates is being so exposed. It's as if that scalpel can cut into her and come away with the dregs of all these years of darkness and bitterness. And Aerith, who still smiles, will see the blackness of those depths. Worse, it's as if it can cut away the hard growth surrounding a lonely teenage girl and leave her open to pain again.

It doesn't seem to be the first time something's cut through her; there's a large, nasty scar at her chest that looks old, but never faded.]

Don't look.

[She growls out the simple words, and all at once she could laugh at herself; right now, she's so pathetic.]

[whitleas.livejournal.com]

[She tries, she really does try her hardest, but the straps are too tight for her. Not only that, but her Pokeballs are close enough that she can see them, but far enough that she can't reach out and call her Pokemon out to cut her free and make a break for it.

But it's only when she sees Aerith--no, the scalpel that she really feels fear rising in her gut. The assurance that she shouldn't be scared doesn't help her feel better, instead making her feel worse.]

H-Hey, maybe we can talk this over?

[willing-sheath.livejournal.com]

[Tomoe turned blank, cold eyes on the woman standing over her. She was scared, and she was outraged, and she was in pain... but there was no trace of any of that in her expression. Only in her stiff posture, the way she subtly pulled against the restraints and the way the tendons in her neck stood out as she breathed.]

It seems a waste of breath to tell someone that under the circumstances.

[She frowned at her. She... should know this woman, she was sure of it... but there seemed to be a block as to... how or where...]

What is the point of this?


[ooc; lol if I'm not doing it right I can redo /o/]

[veritatemdilexi.livejournal.com]

[ She doesn't know how she got here. Everything leading up to this point was a blur, and some haziness still lingered in her mind. Though she is trained to withstand torture, she cannot help but let some of her outrage show in the way she struggles against the bindings and the fierce glare of her green eyes.

Shira's body has had its share of reconstruction - nearly being crushed by a guardian servitor will do that to a woman - but she was still as tough as always, and had no shame about the various scars, wounds, and bruises adorning her body. ]

Fear denies faith. [ She nearly spat it out, trying best to remain composed; to remember her training. Someone has to know she was kidnapped. Calpurnia was not just some random civilian off of of the street... ] My faith shall be my shield...

is this still okay?

[findmyownreason.livejournal.com]

[his breathing is harsh in his own ears and somewhere in the back of his mind is a litany of 'please no, please no, please no' running too fast for him to draw breath. If it runs fast enough it will keep him from being able to scream when the time comes.

His wrists are strapped in place as well as his elbows, his arms outstretched and his legs are bound in three different places just to keep them down. He knows they'll hold - because they always hold - but he jerks at them anyway and the metal and thick leather grinds and protests. He's already broken out into a cold sweat and he's shivering the smallest bit, muscles already too tense and strained. The air is full of the scent of sharp, biting chemicals and thick cloying, smothering ones and there's the unmistakable lightning strike scent of mako somewhere hidden under it all.

please no, please no, pleaseno, pleaseno, pleasenopleasenopleaseno...

His pupils are dilated and huge in his mako eyes as they flick toward the sound of a voice. His throat is bone dry and his teeth ache in his jaw it's clenched so tightly. He has no intention of speaking. It's one of his small defiances that he clings to, pointless but at least something.

Until he sees the familiar face above him and his stomach drops right out of him as his heart beats, just once in a hollow pound in his chest - ]


Aerith...?