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shinonFandom: Lake of Voices (visual novel)
Characters: Kikka/Bemelle
Word count: 400
Warnings: None
Notes: Post-canon. GYWO Yahtzee, "gurgle." I dislike that word. But you know what I do like? People belatedly flipping shit about near-death experiences. Also: several of the ship dynamics embodied in this Huge Emotional Man/Small Reserved Woman duo. Hence...
It's hard to tell sometimes where his dreams end and mine begin. Privately I wonder if he spends fewer nights here than he could, just to avoid that sick out-of-body feeling, each of us a mirror for the other's panic. I have to remind myself: he's not a man who keeps secrets. He's not avoiding me. I'm sure he spends as many evenings with me and the dogs as he can spare; I'm sure it's better than the nights when we have our nightmares separately, on opposite ends of town.
Does he imagine himself drowning? Or do I?
I am asleep, and then an elbow drills into my throat and I open my eyes to the huge dark shape of Bemelle next to me, thrashing at the blankets. Dreaming of the lake. But if it's his dream, why do I hear the water? He's gurgling and choking as if he's swallowed too much of Sinnlos to cry out - if it's his dream, he couldn't have imagined the lake into his lungs, there would be no mist seeping in the windows, no cold wet hand wrapping around my ankle -
"It's all right!" I say, desperately. "Bemelle, it's fine, this is my dream!" I know I'm still dreaming, because my voice comes out too strong and clear for the real me. "You won't die. You can't die. Don't die" - and now I am starting to sound like myself. The hand on my foot has extended cold claws. My bed is a bridge, swaying over an icy marsh. We knew going in that few crossed that maze alive.
An arm encircles my waist. But this time it is Bemelle's, and this time I wake up. "Kikka," he says. Over and over again. He's shaking. He is stroking my hair, but so forcefully it must be for his own comfort rather than mine. I forgive him, because we're on dry land again, and no monsters whisper over us.
"I'm here," I say.
"I saw them drag you down."
"Yes."
He did see that, once in real life and dozens of times since. I can't take that memory from him. I can't be rid of it myself.
"I dove in after you this time." He shudders, more violently than he already is. "It... didn't work."
So it was both of us. His dream fit perfectly inside of mine. I think we're still sinking.
Characters: Kikka/Bemelle
Word count: 400
Warnings: None
Notes: Post-canon. GYWO Yahtzee, "gurgle." I dislike that word. But you know what I do like? People belatedly flipping shit about near-death experiences. Also: several of the ship dynamics embodied in this Huge Emotional Man/Small Reserved Woman duo. Hence...
It's hard to tell sometimes where his dreams end and mine begin. Privately I wonder if he spends fewer nights here than he could, just to avoid that sick out-of-body feeling, each of us a mirror for the other's panic. I have to remind myself: he's not a man who keeps secrets. He's not avoiding me. I'm sure he spends as many evenings with me and the dogs as he can spare; I'm sure it's better than the nights when we have our nightmares separately, on opposite ends of town.
Does he imagine himself drowning? Or do I?
I am asleep, and then an elbow drills into my throat and I open my eyes to the huge dark shape of Bemelle next to me, thrashing at the blankets. Dreaming of the lake. But if it's his dream, why do I hear the water? He's gurgling and choking as if he's swallowed too much of Sinnlos to cry out - if it's his dream, he couldn't have imagined the lake into his lungs, there would be no mist seeping in the windows, no cold wet hand wrapping around my ankle -
"It's all right!" I say, desperately. "Bemelle, it's fine, this is my dream!" I know I'm still dreaming, because my voice comes out too strong and clear for the real me. "You won't die. You can't die. Don't die" - and now I am starting to sound like myself. The hand on my foot has extended cold claws. My bed is a bridge, swaying over an icy marsh. We knew going in that few crossed that maze alive.
An arm encircles my waist. But this time it is Bemelle's, and this time I wake up. "Kikka," he says. Over and over again. He's shaking. He is stroking my hair, but so forcefully it must be for his own comfort rather than mine. I forgive him, because we're on dry land again, and no monsters whisper over us.
"I'm here," I say.
"I saw them drag you down."
"Yes."
He did see that, once in real life and dozens of times since. I can't take that memory from him. I can't be rid of it myself.
"I dove in after you this time." He shudders, more violently than he already is. "It... didn't work."
So it was both of us. His dream fit perfectly inside of mine. I think we're still sinking.
