He closes his eyes, and disconcertingly, he hears the whirr of the bypass pump grind to a halt - but there's no point in being afraid. Even if there's nothing but oblivion waiting to meet him, he doesn't care. Suddenly, he can remember the prayers Roxie taught him in perfect detail, and inside his mind, he screams them into the deepening blackness. It's not even that he believes in them - if it was all a hallucination, what would be the point? - but he believes in the defiance behind them, and the thought that he can snap himself back into the dream as his brain begins its death spasms.
When his eyes snap open, he's still staring hazily at the same bright lights. However, when he gasps for breath this time, it actually works.
He rolls onto his side, coughing up the spittle he accidentally inhaled with that gasp; there's the sound of something metallic shifting on the ground behind him as he does, and an all too familiar weight on his shoulder. When he sits up, he discovers he'd somehow come to pass out on the floor of Weapons and Possessions, and slung over his shoulder is an AK-47 with some kind of strange device attached; he stares at it uncomprehendingly for a moment before the memory trickles back in of the instructions Isaac had given him. The device is a pack of thaumaturgical batteries, and there's a similar one on the P226 still holstered at his side.
Gauron's not wearing the clothes he was in his last hazy memories of the ship, but is still in his plantsuit - evidently, the Nightmare King had gained a little finesse in screwing with people since this all started, but he isn't going to let it throw him. Remembering the extent of his injuries in the half-waking portion of the nightmare, though, he strips out of it to check himself over. There are an abundance of scrapes and bruises, but fortunately, no sign of the deeper wounds or missing patches of skin from the earlier dreams. Even better, the numbness seems to be completely gone from his limbs - but to make sure, to test whether there's any of the nightmare's hold left on him, he dislocates his pinkie. Never has the familiar, throbbing pain been more welcome: it drives home the fact that he is still alive. Somehow, despite everything, he's still alive. He's not out of the woods yet, though.
As he pulls the plantsuit back on, his rattled sense of purpose slips back into place. With the ship still in the bleed, there's no escaping, and that suits him just fine; he'd rather stand and fight anyway. Grinning, he picks up his weapons and sets out to see if he's the only one here whose brain hasn't completely melted.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
When his eyes snap open, he's still staring hazily at the same bright lights. However, when he gasps for breath this time, it actually works.
He rolls onto his side, coughing up the spittle he accidentally inhaled with that gasp; there's the sound of something metallic shifting on the ground behind him as he does, and an all too familiar weight on his shoulder. When he sits up, he discovers he'd somehow come to pass out on the floor of Weapons and Possessions, and slung over his shoulder is an AK-47 with some kind of strange device attached; he stares at it uncomprehendingly for a moment before the memory trickles back in of the instructions Isaac had given him. The device is a pack of thaumaturgical batteries, and there's a similar one on the P226 still holstered at his side.
Gauron's not wearing the clothes he was in his last hazy memories of the ship, but is still in his plantsuit - evidently, the Nightmare King had gained a little finesse in screwing with people since this all started, but he isn't going to let it throw him. Remembering the extent of his injuries in the half-waking portion of the nightmare, though, he strips out of it to check himself over. There are an abundance of scrapes and bruises, but fortunately, no sign of the deeper wounds or missing patches of skin from the earlier dreams. Even better, the numbness seems to be completely gone from his limbs - but to make sure, to test whether there's any of the nightmare's hold left on him, he dislocates his pinkie. Never has the familiar, throbbing pain been more welcome: it drives home the fact that he is still alive. Somehow, despite everything, he's still alive. He's not out of the woods yet, though.
As he pulls the plantsuit back on, his rattled sense of purpose slips back into place. With the ship still in the bleed, there's no escaping, and that suits him just fine; he'd rather stand and fight anyway. Grinning, he picks up his weapons and sets out to see if he's the only one here whose brain hasn't completely melted.