The world tilted, sharp black lines moving against the numb white haze. Heero barely comprehended that he was moving, stumbling and staggering away from the scene of his nightmare, into the dark woods. Still he made no sound as he ran -- his feet barely sounded against the deep, damp carpet. Black branches appeared in front of him, bent under his weight, and released as he passed, with no noise at all. Even his harsh breathing was too quiet, not enough to penetrate the numbness that had fallen over his eyes and ears.
A deadwood finally halted his flight, unknowable distance away from the camp, from the clearing. He slammed against the obstacle in his path, with all the inhuman strength of his rage. He wanted to hear it crack, wanted to feel pain as the wood tore through his skin. But it crumbled under his blows, with hardly a sound, and left no sharp edges to match the searing pain in his heart.
Finally, he shuddered to a halt, slumped to his knees in the black ooze. A choked cry forced its way out of his throat, just one.
“It should have been mine...” he whispered, his throat too thick and his voice too weak. He could not give a sound to his pain, could find no words for his anguish. They had all been stolen. She took my voice, he realized, a flash of epiphany. She took my words, my sight, my feelings. She took it all when she took Duo from me.
He realized too late, too late... It took Hilde’s declaration of love to put a name to the feeling in his heart, and now it was too late. Duo would never be his, never.
For the first time in his long, cold, life, Heero Yuy felt his heart. Breaking.
Re: Spoil of War, prologue
Date: 2006-02-28 01:24 am (UTC)The world tilted, sharp black lines moving against the numb white haze. Heero barely comprehended that he was moving, stumbling and staggering away from the scene of his nightmare, into the dark woods. Still he made no sound as he ran -- his feet barely sounded against the deep, damp carpet. Black branches appeared in front of him, bent under his weight, and released as he passed, with no noise at all. Even his harsh breathing was too quiet, not enough to penetrate the numbness that had fallen over his eyes and ears.
A deadwood finally halted his flight, unknowable distance away from the camp, from the clearing. He slammed against the obstacle in his path, with all the inhuman strength of his rage. He wanted to hear it crack, wanted to feel pain as the wood tore through his skin. But it crumbled under his blows, with hardly a sound, and left no sharp edges to match the searing pain in his heart.
Finally, he shuddered to a halt, slumped to his knees in the black ooze. A choked cry forced its way out of his throat, just one.
“It should have been mine...” he whispered, his throat too thick and his voice too weak. He could not give a sound to his pain, could find no words for his anguish. They had all been stolen. She took my voice, he realized, a flash of epiphany. She took my words, my sight, my feelings. She took it all when she took Duo from me.
He realized too late, too late... It took Hilde’s declaration of love to put a name to the feeling in his heart, and now it was too late. Duo would never be his, never.
For the first time in his long, cold, life, Heero Yuy felt his heart. Breaking.