Pounding ether in his veins, the numbing loss of sensation on his skin. Blinding white and tension pulling at his muscles. Static, ringing, buzzing. A voice barely penetrating the stillness like sound underwater until it reaches his subconscious--he clings to it, trying to listen for the tell-tale tone of 'let's begin' or 'that would be all' just so that he can be ready. Who knows what could happen. Who knows what they'll want.
Static, ringing, buzzing.
Through the cacophony he thinks he hears something sounding like his name.
Zelos, Ze-los. Two syllables, mumbled low, somewhere in this room. That's not quite right. He can't see anything but the stillness of these white walls as they close in on him slowly, the anticipation for pain holding him down in place without moving a single muscle, but the sound pierces through until it forces him to blink. His eyes are so dry. A part of his rational mind that lies scattered like dust particles settles against his temples, provides a fuzzy image of the colour blue. Blue, blue like the sky, like freedom. Right, he... he isn't alone, is he? He thinks he wasn't alone, at least some time ago.
A huff of air through his lips is his response to the sound. The frustration that builds when that's all he can do is unbearable, like a knife pointed in towards Zelos' own core. It's not enough, it's not enough. It will never be enough. He will never be enough. Slowly, Zelos tries again, manages a small groan. It gets caught in his throat though, some pathetic sound that fails to coalesce into actual words.
Ding dong eveything is bad
Pounding ether in his veins, the numbing loss of sensation on his skin. Blinding white and tension pulling at his muscles. Static, ringing, buzzing. A voice barely penetrating the stillness like sound underwater until it reaches his subconscious--he clings to it, trying to listen for the tell-tale tone of 'let's begin' or 'that would be all' just so that he can be ready. Who knows what could happen. Who knows what they'll want.
Static, ringing, buzzing.
Through the cacophony he thinks he hears something sounding like his name.
Zelos, Ze-los. Two syllables, mumbled low, somewhere in this room. That's not quite right. He can't see anything but the stillness of these white walls as they close in on him slowly, the anticipation for pain holding him down in place without moving a single muscle, but the sound pierces through until it forces him to blink. His eyes are so dry. A part of his rational mind that lies scattered like dust particles settles against his temples, provides a fuzzy image of the colour blue. Blue, blue like the sky, like freedom. Right, he... he isn't alone, is he? He thinks he wasn't alone, at least some time ago.
A huff of air through his lips is his response to the sound. The frustration that builds when that's all he can do is unbearable, like a knife pointed in towards Zelos' own core. It's not enough, it's not enough. It will never be enough. He will never be enough. Slowly, Zelos tries again, manages a small groan. It gets caught in his throat though, some pathetic sound that fails to coalesce into actual words.
He is not enough.