He wakes from the dream with a start. Mituna rubbed at his eyes to wake himself up, to center himself on reality. He was in his recuperacoon, he was in the real world, but that dream. It had felt so real, so terrifying. The voices that plague him, for the moment, are eerily quiet, and he can feel the tell tale stiffness on his cheeks where tears fell while he was asleep. It makes him remember the fear, a feeling he needs so desperately to escape.
He needs a distraction. Climbing from his coon, he gets up, wiping off some of the sopor from his body before heading over to his computer.
Kurloz sits, half slumped on a counter, head rested in his arms. The husktop sits before him, screen glowing bright. His paint hasn't yet been put on, but he's alone and so he figures Messiahs will allow this of him as they have for however long he's been up. He's half tempted return to his own recuperacoon, try again for sleep, when the husktop gives the tell tale 'ding' of a new message. He sits upright suddenly and scrambles for the keyboard, typing fast.
TC: present am I what now types attendant for thee. TC: what is to be of my brother in this moment? TC: it is strange of he to wake with the dusk light.
TC: :o) TC: slumber of the absolute has evaded my brother and been of mother fuckin abeyance. TC: I can give of no complaint on rendezvous and reunion all with the text of mine and yours. TC: I may find mother fuckin belief that ain't to be the reason of a brother's awakening however. TC: tell a brother thusly what has him before I.
Miracle moirail powers. This has been the other way around before. It's strangely nice to be able to do something back in these early hours for once.
TC: let it be known true, preached for every ear what dost listen in: TC: daymares mother fuckin suck most ardent. TC: my homie, you are welcome to expatiate what be ill or grievance of thine self. TC: for my brother, I am here.
TC: evasion be about you in this hour. TC: were no fallacy slung, sureness would be about him most fucking righteous. TC: this ain't being so. TC: these daymares most unruly care not for intelligence within their deplorable durations. TC: you have awoken nevertheless in consequence of discomposure within them and for it there is no rejoicing. TC: talk to me, homie.
Okay, okay, fine. It takes him a few moments to think back on it and gather
his thoughts.
TA: uh TThere was someTThing i
guess, coming for us? TA: i don'TT know we jusTT were
all so sure we were going TTwo, noTT die, buTT someTThing worse TThan
TThaTT and somehow we all sTTarTTed falling and TA: i donTT wanTT TTwo TTalk
abouTT iTT.
Oh. Well fuck, that wasn't good. Quickly, he types back.
TC: sssshhhh. TC: that is OK, my brother. TC: pass considerations best if it so may be done: daymares have ends. TC: you have reached it and have arisen where it is to see it's bereavement and so, on this day, you ain't ever have to see it in it's likeness again. TC: let us pour one out to it and say ay mother fucking men for it's cessation.
Unless it became a recurring nightmare. Fuck those.
TC: seek what little comforts may be afforded to thee in this hour. TC: I shall be here still for thee if he desires strong for some other wicked business to speak of.
There's a feeling in him like something just got sunk. Something that's not one of Meulin's ships. A little more hesitantly this time, he types.
TC: a vision. TC: with wicked vision my brother has been bestowed by the holy, bearing fruit unpalatable. TC: this is what he dost mean to preach to me. TC: ain't it?
He doesn't wish to scare him, but he wants to be sure.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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He needs a distraction. Climbing from his coon, he gets up, wiping off some of the sopor from his body before heading over to his computer.
TA: hey you TThere?
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TC: present am I what now types attendant for thee.
TC: what is to be of my brother in this moment?
TC: it is strange of he to wake with the dusk light.
He withholds, for now, typing in a smile.
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Mituna can't stop himself from feeling relieved at the response. It was nice to have someone to talk to, Kurloz speech pattern strangely comforting.
TA: i couldn'TT sleep.
TA: well i was asleep buTT now i'm not
Yeah because that's not a really awkward thing to say. Face meet palm.
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TC: :o)
TC: slumber of the absolute has evaded my brother and been of mother fuckin abeyance.
TC: I can give of no complaint on rendezvous and reunion all with the text of mine and yours.
TC: I may find mother fuckin belief that ain't to be the reason of a brother's awakening however.
TC: tell a brother thusly what has him before I.
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Figues he would know something was up.
TA: i dunno. i jusTT had a bad dream i guess.
TA: iTT was sTTupid
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TC: let it be known true, preached for every ear what dost listen in:
TC: daymares mother fuckin suck most ardent.
TC: my homie, you are welcome to expatiate what be ill or grievance of thine self.
TC: for my brother, I am here.
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TA: i know you KZ buTT iTT was jusTT sTTupid
TA: iTT wasn'TT even TThaTT scary
TA:ii TThink
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TC: were no fallacy slung, sureness would be about him most fucking righteous.
TC: this ain't being so.
TC: these daymares most unruly care not for intelligence within their deplorable durations.
TC: you have awoken nevertheless in consequence of discomposure within them and for it there is no rejoicing.
TC: talk to me, homie.
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Okay, okay, fine. It takes him a few moments to think back on it and gather his thoughts.
TA: uh TThere was someTThing i guess, coming for us?
TA: i don'TT know we jusTT were
all so sure we were going TTwo, noTT die, buTT someTThing worse TThan TThaTT and somehow we all sTTarTTed falling and
TA: i donTT wanTT TTwo TTalk abouTT iTT.
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TC: sssshhhh.
TC: that is OK, my brother.
TC: pass considerations best if it so may be done: daymares have ends.
TC: you have reached it and have arisen where it is to see it's bereavement and so, on this day, you ain't ever have to see it in it's likeness again.
TC: let us pour one out to it and say ay mother fucking men for it's cessation.
Unless it became a recurring nightmare. Fuck those.
TC: seek what little comforts may be afforded to thee in this hour.
TC: I shall be here still for thee if he desires strong for some other wicked business to speak of.
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TA: i donTT know how TTo explain iTT
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TC: a vision.
TC: with wicked vision my brother has been bestowed by the holy, bearing fruit unpalatable.
TC: this is what he dost mean to preach to me.
TC: ain't it?
He doesn't wish to scare him, but he wants to be sure.