[ it isn't his memory that serves him a reminder. it's when he looks down for the first time since opening his eyes, laboriously, as though his head had been stuffed with feathers and cotton and tied from his chin to his bellybutton was a string. the massive blotch of dried blood on his shirt startles for a moment, and then his wits come back to him in an unyielding flood. an old man, his stomach severed open, spine and sinew visible. all consuming darkness, enough to drown in it. fear of the kind that stills your feet and keeps you put despite yourself.
it's these memories kaji takes with him when he finally makes his way down to the deck. before he makes any determination about where he is, and why, he fishes for a cigarette. four and five more directionless paces and he spots someone else, a man, looking just as lost as he feels. he is a stranger, or not - the thought is intercepted by a more abstract sense of familiarity, one that transcends the limits of reason. what is clear: the man's youth betrays him and his avoidant behavior doesn't exactly communicate a license of authority. ]
So they've taken you, too. [ bleary eyed, kaji attempts to meet his gaze. the longer he attempts, the more foreign the images that ripple in his mind's eye. the sensation of rope-on-neck makes him brush against his adam's apple absentmindedly, but the belligerence rolls off him like water off a duck's back. ] Isn't that right?
hatch
it's these memories kaji takes with him when he finally makes his way down to the deck. before he makes any determination about where he is, and why, he fishes for a cigarette. four and five more directionless paces and he spots someone else, a man, looking just as lost as he feels. he is a stranger, or not - the thought is intercepted by a more abstract sense of familiarity, one that transcends the limits of reason. what is clear: the man's youth betrays him and his avoidant behavior doesn't exactly communicate a license of authority. ]
So they've taken you, too. [ bleary eyed, kaji attempts to meet his gaze. the longer he attempts, the more foreign the images that ripple in his mind's eye. the sensation of rope-on-neck makes him brush against his adam's apple absentmindedly, but the belligerence rolls off him like water off a duck's back. ] Isn't that right?