Trinity

Realizations

The dream is always the same, it never changes. No matter how hard she tries, the dream always goes in the same direction. That's probably why it's always a nightmare—the only one she's ever had.

Bad dreams happen; nevertheless, she's usually left with an option for action. Not in this one. There's nothing she can do to alter its obviously inevitable outcome. That's most likely why this one is always so terrible and why she wakes up in a state of absolute panic every time. She can't stop it.

It's always the same.

Running, taking cover, and firing at targets she can't even see. Always turning before there's confirmation of the hit. Evidence that is heard as she moves on, despite the deafening sounds surrounding her.

Gunfire.

Yelling.

Orders.

The telltale sounds of a body limply colliding with the ground.

A constant ringing in her ears; so many sounds...

If it was a real fight, a battle she was actually involved in, it wouldn't be an issue. But it's not. She's a forced observer, dragged along, barely able to see past a few feet in front of her. A painted world around her, large brushstrokes failing to capture any small detail.

Unable to make sense of what is going on or why she's even there. She knows what's approaching, the end of the dream. The conclusion she can never stop.

Despite her fighting or begging, her efforts are wasted. The faceless antagonist of the dream continues on, speeding towards an end she can feel... So for once, she doesn't beg them to stop. She just... watches.

They rush in front of a blurry figure, and the arrow lands true to its unintended target. Thudding directly into their chest.

A trembling hand raises to the protruding arrow, and their legs give out beneath them. It's already getting harder to breathe. Their vision blurs as they're caught and carried to safety. Muffled words, hands that cradle their face, a ring between two dog tags with lettering she can't make out. Desperation in the hands that hold them as the hand loosely gripped around the tags start to fall.

This time, she hears what she's never heard before.

"Nera?"

Ten'etirey jolts awake, unable to catch her breath, and clutches at the spot where she expects an arrow to be. Her whole body aches with fatigue as she tosses off the now tangled sheet. She leans over the edge of the bed with her head in her hands for a few seconds before realizing she needs to get out of this room.

A quick sigh of relief when no one is in the communal area and she's out the door. She rests heavily on the railing as she tries to regain her composure, breaths coming in choking heaves. She has no clue how long she's been standing there. A while, if her numbing legs are anything to go by, and the panic isn't subsiding.

"Menace?" Lyle's gravelly voice reaches her before his hands, gently nudging at her wrists. "C'mon, you gotta let go; you'll dig holes in your head at this rate."

That's what she wanted. Maybe if she cracked open her skull, she'd enter the dumbass part of her brain that decided all of this was okay! It's just too much. The pressure of her fingertips increases, and she chokes trying to breathe normally.

"Menace, look at me." Her eyes clenched tighter, but eventually she's able to open them. "Let me help."

She nods and lets him push her hands away from her face and guide her against the wall, gently allowing her to slide down it and get off her trembling legs. God, she needed so much help. When she finally manages to open her eyes again, her breathing feels less labored, and he's sitting in front of her.