[ It's been a few hours since Steve and he had dragged their way free of the ritual chamber and then collapsed to the ground outside of it. He doesn't know where Claude is and the lingering pain and feverish delirium from what they'd endured had been enough to force him into somewhere dark and quiet to hide for a short while. To try and sleep.
Only sleep didn't come. His mind was whirling too relentlessly and pain wracked his form and underneath all of it bubbled the endless panic he'd been struggling with since first waking in the pit.
He thinks the anxiety might be winning.
So he does the only thing he can think to - escape his own body, his own terrible situation, for as long as he can manage. Even a brief respite would be enough, maybe. It's a struggle to focus enough to reach the Horizon and there are several interrupted attempts before he actually makes it.
But when he does, it's to find himself tucked in the back corner of the greenhouse where he sometimes came to work when he wanted to be alone and not be interrupted. Ironic, now.
Except then there's a voice calling out and he freezes, hesitant to believe this isn't more of his mind playing tricks on him. But it had sounded like... ]
Hilda?
[ His voice is a hoarse, broken rasp. Mostly because his throat is still shredded and sore from what they'd endured before that terrible altar. ]
no subject
Only sleep didn't come. His mind was whirling too relentlessly and pain wracked his form and underneath all of it bubbled the endless panic he'd been struggling with since first waking in the pit.
He thinks the anxiety might be winning.
So he does the only thing he can think to - escape his own body, his own terrible situation, for as long as he can manage. Even a brief respite would be enough, maybe. It's a struggle to focus enough to reach the Horizon and there are several interrupted attempts before he actually makes it.
But when he does, it's to find himself tucked in the back corner of the greenhouse where he sometimes came to work when he wanted to be alone and not be interrupted. Ironic, now.
Except then there's a voice calling out and he freezes, hesitant to believe this isn't more of his mind playing tricks on him. But it had sounded like... ]
Hilda?
[ His voice is a hoarse, broken rasp. Mostly because his throat is still shredded and sore from what they'd endured before that terrible altar. ]