[ The closest thing he can compare it to is getting caught in an ocean tide - that long moment where your completely submerged and the water's got you spinning til you can't tell up from down anymore - there's just ocean and more ocean and all you can do is wait until it lets you go.
Sam'd be the ocean in this metaphor. For a split second fear grips at his chest at the loss of control, his thoughts scrambling for a sense of direction - somewhere else his lungs pull in air instead of saltwater, and it's not the cold that's surrounding him but warmth. Steady, alive. He can feel the ground beneath his feet again.
It's because of all the light that surrounds him that he begins to fix on that heavy undercurrent, like cold air brushing at bare ankles. Without thinking he reaches to touch it, as though it's something solid he can move. ]
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Sam'd be the ocean in this metaphor. For a split second fear grips at his chest at the loss of control, his thoughts scrambling for a sense of direction - somewhere else his lungs pull in air instead of saltwater, and it's not the cold that's surrounding him but warmth. Steady, alive. He can feel the ground beneath his feet again.
It's because of all the light that surrounds him that he begins to fix on that heavy undercurrent, like cold air brushing at bare ankles. Without thinking he reaches to touch it, as though it's something solid he can move. ]