oz (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
notvessalius) wrote2012-10-23 03:51 am
notvessalius) wrote2012-10-23 03:51 am
woah
They were beautiful dreams. Achingly beautiful ones. Ones that he hasn't had for the longest time, hasn't felt for the longest time. In his dreams he's happy. He's Oz Vessalius, master of Gilbert, servant of Alice, brother of Ada, nephew of Oscar, he's someone. He's surrounded by the people he loves, those that love him back just as much, and he's sure that nothing can possibly ruin that happiness.
Waking up is painful, but Oz swallows that pain. Perhaps tonight he'll have another beautiful dream. And maybe, just maybe, he won't wake up.
He does dream again. But the beauty is gone. Ripped and torn to shreds and tainted and twisted beyond imagination. He dreams of reality this time. The disgusted faces Ada and Oscar surely had when they found out the truth. Gilbert standing next to Leo -- no, Glen -- or Alice disappearing into the light, or Sharon and Break restrained and imprisoned by Baskervilles, of everyone's pain and no one's happiness, of their pointed fingers at the one responsible for everything. Not Jack, but Oz.
Your existence is a sin. The hallucinations Oz sees are enough to drive anyone mad, and he almost does. He almost gives in as he runs after the fleeing figure of Alice, because he couldn't spare the chance of whether she was real or not, and vomits at the sight of bloodied scissors and an unmoving body. The hallucinations get varied, his father even takes a turn, but it's nothing compared to the bloodied scene of Sabrie and of dead Alice appearing over and over and over and over and over --
It's Jack that saves him. Jack who wrenches Oz out of the way and takes control of his body, fast enough to avoid the oncoming debris of a broken building. It's his body after all, and he won't stand for Oz's trivial emotions getting him killed. This body doesn't belong to you, after all, does it Oz?
It doesn't.
It doesn't. It never did and it never will. It's enough for Oz to retreat fully, to clap his hands over his ears and just give up. Jack could have his body, it wasn't even his to give.
He doesn't remember what happens after, but when he wakes up back in the apartment surrounded by his roommates, he almost cries.
Waking up is painful, but Oz swallows that pain. Perhaps tonight he'll have another beautiful dream. And maybe, just maybe, he won't wake up.
He does dream again. But the beauty is gone. Ripped and torn to shreds and tainted and twisted beyond imagination. He dreams of reality this time. The disgusted faces Ada and Oscar surely had when they found out the truth. Gilbert standing next to Leo -- no, Glen -- or Alice disappearing into the light, or Sharon and Break restrained and imprisoned by Baskervilles, of everyone's pain and no one's happiness, of their pointed fingers at the one responsible for everything. Not Jack, but Oz.
Your existence is a sin. The hallucinations Oz sees are enough to drive anyone mad, and he almost does. He almost gives in as he runs after the fleeing figure of Alice, because he couldn't spare the chance of whether she was real or not, and vomits at the sight of bloodied scissors and an unmoving body. The hallucinations get varied, his father even takes a turn, but it's nothing compared to the bloodied scene of Sabrie and of dead Alice appearing over and over and over and over and over --
It's Jack that saves him. Jack who wrenches Oz out of the way and takes control of his body, fast enough to avoid the oncoming debris of a broken building. It's his body after all, and he won't stand for Oz's trivial emotions getting him killed. This body doesn't belong to you, after all, does it Oz?
It doesn't.
It doesn't. It never did and it never will. It's enough for Oz to retreat fully, to clap his hands over his ears and just give up. Jack could have his body, it wasn't even his to give.
He doesn't remember what happens after, but when he wakes up back in the apartment surrounded by his roommates, he almost cries.