Host of Sheets (shyan)

Chp 14. Sacrifice

Ryan took his time listening to each of his own footsteps, the slow and steady creak of boots on concrete. The sound focused his thoughts, kept them from colliding painfully together. He didn't want to think about anything at all, but his brain was running far too wild to cooperate to that extent.

Not yet, anyway. He would get there. He had to.

Slow. Steady. Steps.

Soon enough, he vaguely noticed the sun dipping below the horizon through the patches of the remaining windows. But the deep orange sunset haze lit the vines strangely- the veins, Shane had called them.

It was fitting enough, looking up close- they did have a bit of a heartbeat to them. He could see the rhythm of it, pulsating gently in the dark.

He could also glimpse half-faces peering at him from deep within that dark, staring at him with glistening black eyes. Ryan strained to scan their features, looking for a familiar face despite himself- did he really want to know whose body the god was using this time? Who the walls had taken?

They were reaching for him, their fingers cold and sharp, but he realized they weren't trying to drag him in this time; they were beckoning him, his friends calling him close.

And that was much, much worse.

He couldn't get Steven's face out of his mind, expressionless, eyes coated in silver. Shane had promised Steven wasn't feeling any pain, and Ryan longed to believe him- but Ryan hadn't thought to ask if this Steven was capable of feeling anything at all. What kind of life did he have now? What was it like, existing inside ...that? He remembered the blistering cold shearing his fingertips and--

-fuck, he was thinking again.

Ryan stopped in the middle of the hallway, laid his hands on his knees and breathed; studied his shoelaces, the ins and outs of each lace. He was still having trouble breathing, even though it'd been hours since the god took his breath away. Was this going to be permanent? Or- a panic attack? What did those even feel like?

...It probably wasn't permanent. He was being stupid. He just needed to lay down, breathe, and maybe have someone tell him that his heart wasn't really going to give out in his chest.

Everything was silent around him, save for the soft rustle of the vines. It was almost a comforting noise, familiar by now, and so he focused on that; closing his eyes, and pretending it was just the rustle of leaves outside- maybe like in the park, near Orange and Tillman street- he'd always liked that park.

And whatever it was he'd just experienced?

That wasn't real. Couldn't have been.

It was frankly unbelievable, when he tried to dredge the memory back up. All this time wandering the halls (what time had he even left? what time was it now?), and he still couldn't wrap his mind around... that thing.

It'd felt so present, buzzing at all of his senses. He could smell it, taste it in the air like a bad cologne clinging to his clothes. The strange scent of heated metal still lingered even now; somehow, he didn't think it'd ever wash out.

Despite his desperate disbelief, it was real. Whatever it was. And even after all this time pacing, all the static silence in the halls, he couldn't figure out what to do with that information.

All he knew was that he'd lived through the experience, somehow. He'd even hurt it, it looked like, with his dull, flimsy knife. Maybe he could find a better weapon, and-- maybe it wouldn't have Steven's face, next time.

But then, there was Shane.

//You should've killed me while you had the chance.//

Goosebumps prickled along Ryan's body, making his skin feel raw and open. It wasn't the first time today he'd felt that full-frame shudder sting at him, and it probably wouldn't be the last, either.