They're suppose they're awake, at the moment, because their eyes are open and they're regarding the empty wall opposite them without seeing it. There's not much to be said for the difference - between being awake and being asleep, between being alive and being not. There's simply the endless hours and the lack of anything to occupy their time.
The ache hasn't really subsided, they don't think; it's merely dulled.
A hum of warm red drifts between their cupped fingers, a soft music in a heart who has sung its music to two SOULs now. Two. Both gone.
A hammering on the door. A silence in their head, impossible to ignore.
Maybe it's moments. It feels like hours, before they're able to banish the lethargy in their muscles, the stillness that sits them there with a SOUL bobbing in their hands, conjure enough strength to swing their legs off the edge of their bed and stand, and open the door to regard the visitors with vacant eyes, and absolute silence.
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The ache hasn't really subsided, they don't think; it's merely dulled.
A hum of warm red drifts between their cupped fingers, a soft music in a heart who has sung its music to two SOULs now. Two. Both gone.
A hammering on the door. A silence in their head, impossible to ignore.
Maybe it's moments. It feels like hours, before they're able to banish the lethargy in their muscles, the stillness that sits them there with a SOUL bobbing in their hands, conjure enough strength to swing their legs off the edge of their bed and stand, and open the door to regard the visitors with vacant eyes, and absolute silence.