The only thing that comprised her thoughts, was the mist. It rolled in, constricting around her vision and her focus until her view of the world around her was but a pinprick of color in the eye of a vast tornado. And then, it too winked out of existence.
The mists clung to her body, suffusing every breath, and every pore, with a thick smothering. Words came to her letters at a breadth, her mind struggling for air-rich blood with every shuddering inhale of the liquid that permeated everything that was her. Her arm erected, and she stared with a blank expression towards her hand: no, the mist forbade it. She bent her arm halfway, and found it still invisible. She drew her hand close to her face then, the long digits finally visible, but merely a haze of gray against the endless white around her. There was no floor, nor was there any heat. However, she was not falling, and she did not feel any sort of cold. It was only the smattering of notions she could dredge up from her starved brain, like only a dozen pieces of a thousand pieced puzzle.
She was lost, here. In a maze with no paths, no entry or exits, not even walls. Her senses sweated from her body, and thus evaporated into the clouds one by one, first her sense of feeling. She lost the ability to feel any of her muscles move, the signals from her brain lashing out in attempt to force the muscles to move, and yet it was futile. Her mind did not collect any sensation other than the water coalescing against her skin, dewing and melting into her pores, only to once again evaporate, and take the feeling away, flying off with those pores one by one, like millions of birds collecting millions of seeds. Next it came for her smell, the scent of humidity and water dominating over all. Soon, it felt like she was drowning, the water flooding into her nostrils, flushing her sinuses with a harsh iciness, rushing down to her gullet, and branching to fill her lungs like twin deltas of one river. Last came her sight, as the droplets of mist congealed on her eyes, and piece by piece, began to erode them away, such as a pair of stones would surrender to the slashes of the water and sand of the ocean.
Her left hand remained untouched by the numbness, by the warm cold. It felt not moisture, but heat; heat that was the only sensation she could feel, and thus could focus on on it, heat that itched, agitated, and radiated outward, engraving new vitality into her otherwise dead limb. The skin at the base of her middle finger burned with the intensity of raw flame, a fire burning in an oil that would not be quelled by the roaring waves crashing down onto it. She was drowning, yes, but in this moment she had forgotten how to breathe, and thus, no panic crept its way into her mind. Any breath she would have taken would have been snatched away by the embers of the fire that had begun to flood into her arm. Her numbed mind tossed a moment, like a restless child in its bed. She wanted so much to succumb to the nonexistent cold, and yet her hand forbade it. It tugged her towards reality once more, but not to any reality that those around her would have known. All that remained of the world, was a pool of water, with the dark, snaking tendrils of plants struggling for life, all of which was choked by the mist.
Cold rushed up her feet as they kissed the lake's surface. Her aflame hand extended, and unlike before, it now painted the picture of the world in front of her, as though the canvas were missing a color other than white this entire time. Everything was tinted in a hazy yellow, but she saw just what made up her hand. It was the same icy whitish blue she had always known, only this time, was decorated with delicate silvery chains that wound betwixt her fingers and up her arm. As she looked to them, she imagined what gentle twinkling sound they would make as they brushed past her skin. Soon, those thoughts became reality, as her hearing had returned. And no sooner did her hearing return, than she heard the parting of the water further ahead, from some great stone or another plinking in and cracking the surface. Waves rose and licked up from the pads of her feet up to her mid-shins.
It was when she had stepped forward, towards its source, that she realized how desperately she needed air. So she wracked her mind for a solution, as her muscles withered and atrophied, causing her to tumble forward - directly into the water. Her whole body ran cold, and the flames from her hand snuffed out, leaving behind only an itchy dryness. The plants, finding something nourishing, dug into her, massing about her form like countless wraps of seaweed, whirling towards what dared move, and disturb the silence of the lake. Finally now, she remembered how to breathe, and without the luxury of being able to crane her head up from the water, inhaled and then loosed. With this breath, the lake turned to ash, the mist turned to silt, and finally she rose in her bed.
The covers were suffocating around Vaera's bare form as she let several shuddering gasps for air, her muscles hungering, and her lungs feasting to feed them. The Maraya's body was in a cold sweat as she struggled to recall if she was even alive. Her hand flew for her wrist, and then for her long neck, touching and feeling for her racing pulse. Her heart pounded like an inmate against her ribcage, and her hands went back to either side of her, keeping herself seated as she sat up, scanning the twilit room for anything that was amiss. Nothing; all was left as it was when she had fallen asleep. She wheezed as she commanded her lungs to stop, and her breaths had turned ragged from the exertion. Her red-violet eyes cast up to the ceiling, as she slowly let her back touch the bed once more. They twitched as she felt something awry, and she examined her left hand, finding the skin of its middle finger to be red, as if rubbed raw. It slumped back down to her side as she shuddered from the itching sensation that rose from it, demanding to be scratched. From force of will, she ignored it, and remained wide-eyed for many moments, before she attempted to return to sleep.
The mists clung to her body, suffusing every breath, and every pore, with a thick smothering. Words came to her letters at a breadth, her mind struggling for air-rich blood with every shuddering inhale of the liquid that permeated everything that was her. Her arm erected, and she stared with a blank expression towards her hand: no, the mist forbade it. She bent her arm halfway, and found it still invisible. She drew her hand close to her face then, the long digits finally visible, but merely a haze of gray against the endless white around her. There was no floor, nor was there any heat. However, she was not falling, and she did not feel any sort of cold. It was only the smattering of notions she could dredge up from her starved brain, like only a dozen pieces of a thousand pieced puzzle.
She was lost, here. In a maze with no paths, no entry or exits, not even walls. Her senses sweated from her body, and thus evaporated into the clouds one by one, first her sense of feeling. She lost the ability to feel any of her muscles move, the signals from her brain lashing out in attempt to force the muscles to move, and yet it was futile. Her mind did not collect any sensation other than the water coalescing against her skin, dewing and melting into her pores, only to once again evaporate, and take the feeling away, flying off with those pores one by one, like millions of birds collecting millions of seeds. Next it came for her smell, the scent of humidity and water dominating over all. Soon, it felt like she was drowning, the water flooding into her nostrils, flushing her sinuses with a harsh iciness, rushing down to her gullet, and branching to fill her lungs like twin deltas of one river. Last came her sight, as the droplets of mist congealed on her eyes, and piece by piece, began to erode them away, such as a pair of stones would surrender to the slashes of the water and sand of the ocean.
Her left hand remained untouched by the numbness, by the warm cold. It felt not moisture, but heat; heat that was the only sensation she could feel, and thus could focus on on it, heat that itched, agitated, and radiated outward, engraving new vitality into her otherwise dead limb. The skin at the base of her middle finger burned with the intensity of raw flame, a fire burning in an oil that would not be quelled by the roaring waves crashing down onto it. She was drowning, yes, but in this moment she had forgotten how to breathe, and thus, no panic crept its way into her mind. Any breath she would have taken would have been snatched away by the embers of the fire that had begun to flood into her arm. Her numbed mind tossed a moment, like a restless child in its bed. She wanted so much to succumb to the nonexistent cold, and yet her hand forbade it. It tugged her towards reality once more, but not to any reality that those around her would have known. All that remained of the world, was a pool of water, with the dark, snaking tendrils of plants struggling for life, all of which was choked by the mist.
Cold rushed up her feet as they kissed the lake's surface. Her aflame hand extended, and unlike before, it now painted the picture of the world in front of her, as though the canvas were missing a color other than white this entire time. Everything was tinted in a hazy yellow, but she saw just what made up her hand. It was the same icy whitish blue she had always known, only this time, was decorated with delicate silvery chains that wound betwixt her fingers and up her arm. As she looked to them, she imagined what gentle twinkling sound they would make as they brushed past her skin. Soon, those thoughts became reality, as her hearing had returned. And no sooner did her hearing return, than she heard the parting of the water further ahead, from some great stone or another plinking in and cracking the surface. Waves rose and licked up from the pads of her feet up to her mid-shins.
It was when she had stepped forward, towards its source, that she realized how desperately she needed air. So she wracked her mind for a solution, as her muscles withered and atrophied, causing her to tumble forward - directly into the water. Her whole body ran cold, and the flames from her hand snuffed out, leaving behind only an itchy dryness. The plants, finding something nourishing, dug into her, massing about her form like countless wraps of seaweed, whirling towards what dared move, and disturb the silence of the lake. Finally now, she remembered how to breathe, and without the luxury of being able to crane her head up from the water, inhaled and then loosed. With this breath, the lake turned to ash, the mist turned to silt, and finally she rose in her bed.
The covers were suffocating around Vaera's bare form as she let several shuddering gasps for air, her muscles hungering, and her lungs feasting to feed them. The Maraya's body was in a cold sweat as she struggled to recall if she was even alive. Her hand flew for her wrist, and then for her long neck, touching and feeling for her racing pulse. Her heart pounded like an inmate against her ribcage, and her hands went back to either side of her, keeping herself seated as she sat up, scanning the twilit room for anything that was amiss. Nothing; all was left as it was when she had fallen asleep. She wheezed as she commanded her lungs to stop, and her breaths had turned ragged from the exertion. Her red-violet eyes cast up to the ceiling, as she slowly let her back touch the bed once more. They twitched as she felt something awry, and she examined her left hand, finding the skin of its middle finger to be red, as if rubbed raw. It slumped back down to her side as she shuddered from the itching sensation that rose from it, demanding to be scratched. From force of will, she ignored it, and remained wide-eyed for many moments, before she attempted to return to sleep.
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