![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
singindemonhqI was in the sealed box again. Couldn't remember how I got there. The smell of rot and disinfectant had gone, replaced by a sickly scent like long-dead flowers. This time the cages opposite seemed to be empty.
I could see my own hands slidin over the plastic, searchin for any break in the cold, clear blankness. Then I realised that the soldier-boys ... the beasts so vile that I couldn't think of words bad enough to describe them, had done ... something ... to me already. The hands spread in front of me - my hands - were ...wrong. I could feel sick dread speading through me as I looked down at the scrawny body - the legs hadn't the muscle to dance! I tried to stretch and change my body back - and I realised that I couldn't do that, the reflex I was reachin for just wasn't there! Then I realized that the monsters had ... they had changed me right down deep inside ...... I could hear my own scream echoing off the walls...
It was my own screamin that woke me. (Or the voice that shouted "Do you know it's 3 o'clock in the morning?")
I bounced straight out of bed to stand in front of the mirror. I do that a lot anyway, of course - when most of your outward appearance comes from the imagination of the last person to call you up it helps if you know whether there's anything that needs combing, or shaving or something. Usually it's the face they muck about with, sometimes the hands - not usually the body so much, and that's what matters. A dancer has to be able to take it for granted that the muscles are there and they work the same way as always. I don't like bein shut in, but in the nightmare my body was wrong, it didn't work right. Bein trapped in that alien body was worse than the box. The fear that went with that was ... bad ... I sat back on the bed, and took some deep breaths, until I was sure I wasn't shakin.
Then I thought about it. I'd got a feeling I'd seen those hands before - I'd been someone else. I'd been .... Yuffie? Then I remembered, I'd had the slitherin creeps earlier, before we knew that the little guy was missin. I'd thought somethin was following me and I'd cast the mojo quite automatically - if anything sang I'd know where it was, what it was and, just maybe, what to do about it. There wasn't a sound out of the shadows, but just for a moment I thought I'd heard Yuffie singing about beer. Then I'd got distracted and I'd just forgotten, until now.
So I lay back and cast the magic. The man who knew what time it was started to sing about it. I tuned him out and listened on the friends' channel - wasn't sure if that'd work or not. Normally, that's for your own kind, but normally a gig lasts about 8 hours. Then we go home and ... well, just socialise, like anybody. This time I get sent out and told hang about until the Apocalypse! They haven't even sent any minions, yet. It's abuse of a field operative - I've got feelings too. The Motley Crew are friends - sort of, anyway. I'm hopin that the Wicca mojo is hidin this entry from the Producers - but maybe they ought to know how the Operatives feel about things like this, and about the other messes they've been inflictin on us!
So, I cast the mojo and I listened on the friends' channel. Wasn't sure if I heard anythin or not, so I hyped up the listenin part just as far as it'd go. When I first started hearin I thought I was dreamin' - I could hear a Bard, a story-teller, and I thought at first that she was telling a tale to a crowd. Then I realised that I'd lucked across one of the girls tellin' someone a bedtime story. That mellowed me out real cool.
At some point while I was listenin' I realised that it was just a nightmare; they found Yuffie's hand knifed to the wall, so I was told. Whatever the creature in my dream had been, it'd had both hands. Just a nightmare. I might try that kind of search again, though. I just don't know. Maybe it was imagination, that first time. But I did think I'd heard Yuffie.
I could see my own hands slidin over the plastic, searchin for any break in the cold, clear blankness. Then I realised that the soldier-boys ... the beasts so vile that I couldn't think of words bad enough to describe them, had done ... something ... to me already. The hands spread in front of me - my hands - were ...wrong. I could feel sick dread speading through me as I looked down at the scrawny body - the legs hadn't the muscle to dance! I tried to stretch and change my body back - and I realised that I couldn't do that, the reflex I was reachin for just wasn't there! Then I realized that the monsters had ... they had changed me right down deep inside ...... I could hear my own scream echoing off the walls...
It was my own screamin that woke me. (Or the voice that shouted "Do you know it's 3 o'clock in the morning?")
I bounced straight out of bed to stand in front of the mirror. I do that a lot anyway, of course - when most of your outward appearance comes from the imagination of the last person to call you up it helps if you know whether there's anything that needs combing, or shaving or something. Usually it's the face they muck about with, sometimes the hands - not usually the body so much, and that's what matters. A dancer has to be able to take it for granted that the muscles are there and they work the same way as always. I don't like bein shut in, but in the nightmare my body was wrong, it didn't work right. Bein trapped in that alien body was worse than the box. The fear that went with that was ... bad ... I sat back on the bed, and took some deep breaths, until I was sure I wasn't shakin.
Then I thought about it. I'd got a feeling I'd seen those hands before - I'd been someone else. I'd been .... Yuffie? Then I remembered, I'd had the slitherin creeps earlier, before we knew that the little guy was missin. I'd thought somethin was following me and I'd cast the mojo quite automatically - if anything sang I'd know where it was, what it was and, just maybe, what to do about it. There wasn't a sound out of the shadows, but just for a moment I thought I'd heard Yuffie singing about beer. Then I'd got distracted and I'd just forgotten, until now.
So I lay back and cast the magic. The man who knew what time it was started to sing about it. I tuned him out and listened on the friends' channel - wasn't sure if that'd work or not. Normally, that's for your own kind, but normally a gig lasts about 8 hours. Then we go home and ... well, just socialise, like anybody. This time I get sent out and told hang about until the Apocalypse! They haven't even sent any minions, yet. It's abuse of a field operative - I've got feelings too. The Motley Crew are friends - sort of, anyway. I'm hopin that the Wicca mojo is hidin this entry from the Producers - but maybe they ought to know how the Operatives feel about things like this, and about the other messes they've been inflictin on us!
So, I cast the mojo and I listened on the friends' channel. Wasn't sure if I heard anythin or not, so I hyped up the listenin part just as far as it'd go. When I first started hearin I thought I was dreamin' - I could hear a Bard, a story-teller, and I thought at first that she was telling a tale to a crowd. Then I realised that I'd lucked across one of the girls tellin' someone a bedtime story. That mellowed me out real cool.
At some point while I was listenin' I realised that it was just a nightmare; they found Yuffie's hand knifed to the wall, so I was told. Whatever the creature in my dream had been, it'd had both hands. Just a nightmare. I might try that kind of search again, though. I just don't know. Maybe it was imagination, that first time. But I did think I'd heard Yuffie.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2003-03-12 11:31 am (UTC)If y'all keep calling me a Bard, I'm going to start powerblushing.
no subject
I didn't know how to do that.
no subject
Date: 2003-03-12 12:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-03-12 01:44 pm (UTC)Do you have more like that?
(OK I'm greedy - when did I ever sing that I wasn't greedy?)
no subject
Date: 2003-03-12 01:51 pm (UTC)no subject
no subject
Date: 2003-03-12 06:10 pm (UTC)