[The colors bleed and fade, the air loses its acrid scent. The smell of blood, of pungent death, flees Akira's sinuses. Everything swirls like dishwater down a drain, his own body left lighter, as if his soul's been emptied, and he's next to spill into nothingness.
In the moments before the death of himself, the death of the ego, Akira wakes in the real world with a scream. He jerks upright and is immediately toppled by the pain in his muscles that have been strained well past their limits. He was tense the entire time, wasn't he? Fighting and struggling for a life that wasn't his. How much better would he have fared if he didn't care, if none of those lost lives mattered?
Pain grips him, throbbing in his temples, but Akira pays it little mind. It's not so overwhelming that he can't manage to claw his way over to Solomon and shake him, forcing his hoarse voice past his lips in an effort to stir him.]
Solomon! Hey—!
[He slaps the man's cheek once, twice, the second time hard enough to leave his palm stinging. Tell him you're alright. Tell him you're fine, even if it's a lie.]
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In the moments before the death of himself, the death of the ego, Akira wakes in the real world with a scream. He jerks upright and is immediately toppled by the pain in his muscles that have been strained well past their limits. He was tense the entire time, wasn't he? Fighting and struggling for a life that wasn't his. How much better would he have fared if he didn't care, if none of those lost lives mattered?
Pain grips him, throbbing in his temples, but Akira pays it little mind. It's not so overwhelming that he can't manage to claw his way over to Solomon and shake him, forcing his hoarse voice past his lips in an effort to stir him.]
Solomon! Hey—!
[He slaps the man's cheek once, twice, the second time hard enough to leave his palm stinging. Tell him you're alright. Tell him you're fine, even if it's a lie.]