She drifted in the blackness of her mind. Was she dead? She was sure she was. After her sacrifice, she was very sure the explosion killed her. Did she care? Yes. She would miss her friends dearly if it was true. Was this heaven? She's not sure. She doesn't even know what's happening. She has been in this comalike state for two years now. She feels as if she's drifting in water peacefully. Red, pastel blue, pastel pink and yellow colors danced and swirled in her vision. Feeling as if she was underwater diving, spinning, and flipping slowly and through the jelly known as her mind. Lynx stared down at her imaginary arms, extending them. She waved her arms above herself, breathing in. She once more, stared at both of her arms, thinking. If this WAS heaven, after all, why wasn't anyone else here? Was this Hell? No, it couldn't be. Where was the brimstone and fire? The chains and burning and molten lava, spilling across her fur and giving her burns? Surely, surely this couldn't be it. She took a deep breath, closing her imaginary eyes and watching the colors swirling. She left herself drift freely in the inky black canvas of her mind for a while longer, resting. Letting questions pop in her mind, then fizzle out with short fed answers. She bumped into something, suddenly making her eyes fly open and rapidly looking about. She cannot see. She could see earlier, why can't she see? Currently, she only could touch and hear. The soft sound of underwater coma hit her ears; this was nothing new. But she could touch. So, she extended an arm. She felt something, she was not sure what. She rested her hand against it. It seemed like a wall of jelly or solid honey. Lynx pressed her hands harder against the surface of the wall, feeling her arm sink into the warm, honey substance. She pushed as hard as she possibly could, suddenly falling through it and into somewhere else. Her hand broke the surface of the multi-colored paint, and the entire world around her began to fall. The pitch-black water stopped churning and began to drain. She felt herself worry. Was this what death felt like? Was she finally giving into it? She tried to go back behind the wall of jelly, where it was nice and filled with warm black water. Here, she was floating in a gray space. Everything turned white. All the water drained out, and left her to fall, fall fall. She was falling. Diving. She watched dull colors whip past her, followed by the black water falling as well. She turned to head to see what she would fall against. It was pitch black marble flooring with spikes, ink drifted in the cracks and crevices of the cave floor. She breathed in, closing her eyes. Maybe this would be the end. But at least, it was an interesting one. She had been stuck in a surreal world of black water, paint, and things only her mind could conjure up for the past who knows how long. She plummeted faster. Suddenly, the spikes cracked further from eachother, making the ink rise. It reminded her of the safety behind the wall of jelly. Which now she missed. She could tell she was picoseconds away from death, and she spread her arms. Then she felt it. It was if a sewing pin stuck into her palms. It was as if someone had rung a bell in her ear. But it did not kill her. It did much worse. Then, she landed. But she felt nothing other than the pinpricks. Not even the air. Ash rained down from the ceiling, submerging her. She could feel a sensation in her stomach, as if she was being held up by some unseen force. So, she opened her eyes. And right then, it was as if she was ripped from her own mind. From a thousand-year slumber. From a coma.
