dave strider (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
oculusriffs) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
cantown2018-04-13 07:49 pm
oculusriffs) wrote in cantown2018-04-13 07:49 pm
(no subject)
[for once, it hadn't taken him too long to figure out he was dreaming.]
[maybe it's because this particular memory has been, unfortunately, a frequent visitor over the years. a rooftop in the center of a city that doesn't yet know it's on the brink. sirens blare in the distance occasionally, but they'll be burned into silence once the game starts. there won't be anybody to save, nor will there be anybody to do the saving. this is the day the world ends, after all.]
[behind him on the roof is the remnants of a fight that he'd lost — way too many crows, a sword snapped in half, a puppet torn to shreds. a copy of a video game strewn on the ground.]
[Dave hates redreaming this memory. but no matter how many times he tries to bend his dream into another memory, to think himself to another world (he'd rather be catching frostbite on LOFAF. he'd rather be on the meteor. anywhere would be better than here), the city and this rooftop snap back into place like an stubborn intrusive thought.]
[nothing to do but wait it out, until he figures out how to wake up. where's Rose and her magic yarn when you need her? so he's seated himself at the edge of the roof, staring off into the horizon, alone.]
[he thought he'd already acknowledged and accepted and moved on from this bit of history he'd lived through — but the bullshit always demands acknowledgment again, doesn't it.]
[maybe it's because this particular memory has been, unfortunately, a frequent visitor over the years. a rooftop in the center of a city that doesn't yet know it's on the brink. sirens blare in the distance occasionally, but they'll be burned into silence once the game starts. there won't be anybody to save, nor will there be anybody to do the saving. this is the day the world ends, after all.]
[behind him on the roof is the remnants of a fight that he'd lost — way too many crows, a sword snapped in half, a puppet torn to shreds. a copy of a video game strewn on the ground.]
[Dave hates redreaming this memory. but no matter how many times he tries to bend his dream into another memory, to think himself to another world (he'd rather be catching frostbite on LOFAF. he'd rather be on the meteor. anywhere would be better than here), the city and this rooftop snap back into place like an stubborn intrusive thought.]
[nothing to do but wait it out, until he figures out how to wake up. where's Rose and her magic yarn when you need her? so he's seated himself at the edge of the roof, staring off into the horizon, alone.]
[he thought he'd already acknowledged and accepted and moved on from this bit of history he'd lived through — but the bullshit always demands acknowledgment again, doesn't it.]