[ he's in the woods. tripping over raised, twisted roots, lungs aching, sweat stinging his eyes. there are footsteps behind him, not quite as quick as his own, calculated and heavy. disciplined and practiced, like they have this whole wood mapped. dwight swears under his breath, head craning to look over his shoulder, a movement which sends him a little bit sideways and fucks with his balance. the toe of his shoe, scuffed to hell, catches on a lifted root and he stumbles hard, palms hitting the dirt hard so his face doesn't.
he pushes through. skitters on all fours for a beat or two like a pathetic little dog until he can right himself and keep going. behind him, it's dark, but it's always fucking dark in the woods, black fog rolling at the edges like a threat on one side, a safety net on the other, but dwight's not sure he's past the threshold for violence.
in the distance, a small orange blip flickers, the glow of it just barely touching the soil around it. it feels like it's miles away, never any closer despite all of his panicked, frantic effort. dwight reaches out with one hand, opens his mouth to call out, but his voice catches in his throat. silent. the footsteps behind him draw closer, catching up, trailed by the muted sound of well-worn leather snapping quietly in the wind, except there is no wind. everything is still in these woods, except for dwight's rabbiting heart.
when he hits the ground a second time, it's much harder, palms crashing into the dirt just a second or two before his chin, the inside of his cheek caught in the painful, involuntary snap of his cheek. pinned down on his stomach with a familiar weight on his back, a knee on either side of him. immediately, he tastes blood in his mouth. immediately, he tries to twist and crawl his way out, fingers digging into the soil, grasping for anything, any sliver of leverage, but the earth underneath him is too soft, it gives way too much.
dwight is helpless. he's always fucking helpless.
he begs. sucks in a sharp breath, eyes dirt in his mouth, blood on his teeth. out loud, in his sleep. ]
No, no, no, please. Please don't, okay? I'll - help! No, I'm sorry, I'm sorry—
[ cold metal rips into his flesh. sinks between his shoulder blades, just to the left of his spine. misses on purpose, because dwight wouldn't feel the rest if his attacker severed his spinal cord on the first try. dwight grits his teeth, writhes, squeezes his eyes shut, and when the knife is dragged all the way down to the bottom of his spine, he finally wakes, screaming.
wakes, but the weight pinning him down doesn't leave with the dream. dwight panics, arms reaching for anything, hands hitting the heavy headboard. his voice is rough, and pitched slightly higher with panic. ] Get off, let me go!
[ If he knew Dwight better — or at all, beyond a name and face — Dom might have been alarmed enough to attempt a quick trip to his dream, pulled him out into something kinder or into the real world. He doesn't know the guy, and he's retired from entering dreams without permission, so Dee is sent to the rescue, massive and heavy and pretty much unmovable. Shocker: that doesn't help. ]
Hey—! [ Dom is at the door, then past the threshold, close enough for the snow leopard to give up on Dwight and return to her companion. Dom crouches, both hands on her neck, as if he needs to check for any wounds. ]
She was trying to help, dude. What's going on with you?
[ disoriented and still somewhere between dreaming and awake, dwight scrambles the second the weight on his back lifts up and off, flipping onto his back and shuffling away from the edge of the bed on his hands and pushing with his heels. he doesn't recognize the voice speaking to him, and without his glasses he can hardly make anything out clear enough for any sort of comfort. it's only when he nearly topples over the opposite side of the bed that he stops, breathing hard, eyes fluctuating between widening and squinting. fearful, and wanting to see who the fuck and what the fuck is going on.
it takes him a few long moments to settle. to realize that the softness underneath his palms his not dirt, but a lush comforter and soft sheets, and that this is - this is the manor, and not the woods. not the fog. he's safe - or, at least, safer than he's been in a while. no murdery serial killers here.
embarrassed and still kind of clueless, dwight scrambles forward on his knees and reaches out toward his bedstand, patting his hand around for his glasses. ]
Uh— [ his voice shakes a little, mostly due to anxiety and the adrenaline still coursing through him. ] —sorry. Sorry I just -
[ pat pat pat - gotcha.. dwight slides his glasses onto his face a little haphazardly, fingers touching one of the lenses by accident and leaving prints. he blinks through them, brows pinched as dom and - a fucking snow leopard??? come into focus.
shit. that kid is his neighbor. he clears his throat. what time is it? dwight doesn't even remember falling asleep. is he still in his regular clothes? he looks down. he's still in his regular clothes. jesus. ]
I, uh. Bad dream. Very bad dream. Did I wake you? And your... what is that, a leopard?
[ Maybe he'd have more empathy if he wasn't so weirded out by his new roommate, placed here after the house made Hope go away, with those glasses and… whatever he's wearing to bed, along with really fucked up nightmares. No one having a good dream (or even a regular bad dream) would be making a live impression of the first kill in a slasher movie, so. That answer tracks. Dom stands back up, petting the top of Dee's head as she sits down, looong tail flopped on the floor and wrapped around her front paws. She's watching you, Dwight. ]
Yeah, a snow leopard. Her name's Dee. We both heard you and thought she could help you chill out.
[ Which they didn't. Or did they? At least the guy's out of the dream, right? ]
You want some water or a towel or something? You're kinda sweaty.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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he pushes through. skitters on all fours for a beat or two like a pathetic little dog until he can right himself and keep going. behind him, it's dark, but it's always fucking dark in the woods, black fog rolling at the edges like a threat on one side, a safety net on the other, but dwight's not sure he's past the threshold for violence.
in the distance, a small orange blip flickers, the glow of it just barely touching the soil around it. it feels like it's miles away, never any closer despite all of his panicked, frantic effort. dwight reaches out with one hand, opens his mouth to call out, but his voice catches in his throat. silent. the footsteps behind him draw closer, catching up, trailed by the muted sound of well-worn leather snapping quietly in the wind, except there is no wind. everything is still in these woods, except for dwight's rabbiting heart.
when he hits the ground a second time, it's much harder, palms crashing into the dirt just a second or two before his chin, the inside of his cheek caught in the painful, involuntary snap of his cheek. pinned down on his stomach with a familiar weight on his back, a knee on either side of him. immediately, he tastes blood in his mouth. immediately, he tries to twist and crawl his way out, fingers digging into the soil, grasping for anything, any sliver of leverage, but the earth underneath him is too soft, it gives way too much.
dwight is helpless. he's always fucking helpless.
he begs. sucks in a sharp breath, eyes dirt in his mouth, blood on his teeth. out loud, in his sleep. ]
No, no, no, please. Please don't, okay? I'll - help! No, I'm sorry, I'm sorry—
[ cold metal rips into his flesh. sinks between his shoulder blades, just to the left of his spine. misses on purpose, because dwight wouldn't feel the rest if his attacker severed his spinal cord on the first try. dwight grits his teeth, writhes, squeezes his eyes shut, and when the knife is dragged all the way down to the bottom of his spine, he finally wakes, screaming.
wakes, but the weight pinning him down doesn't leave with the dream. dwight panics, arms reaching for anything, hands hitting the heavy headboard. his voice is rough, and pitched slightly higher with panic. ] Get off, let me go!
no subject
Hey—! [ Dom is at the door, then past the threshold, close enough for the snow leopard to give up on Dwight and return to her companion. Dom crouches, both hands on her neck, as if he needs to check for any wounds. ]
She was trying to help, dude. What's going on with you?
no subject
it takes him a few long moments to settle. to realize that the softness underneath his palms his not dirt, but a lush comforter and soft sheets, and that this is - this is the manor, and not the woods. not the fog. he's safe - or, at least, safer than he's been in a while. no murdery serial killers here.
embarrassed and still kind of clueless, dwight scrambles forward on his knees and reaches out toward his bedstand, patting his hand around for his glasses. ]
Uh— [ his voice shakes a little, mostly due to anxiety and the adrenaline still coursing through him. ] —sorry. Sorry I just -
[ pat pat pat - gotcha.. dwight slides his glasses onto his face a little haphazardly, fingers touching one of the lenses by accident and leaving prints. he blinks through them, brows pinched as dom and - a fucking snow leopard??? come into focus.
shit. that kid is his neighbor. he clears his throat. what time is it? dwight doesn't even remember falling asleep. is he still in his regular clothes? he looks down. he's still in his regular clothes. jesus. ]
I, uh. Bad dream. Very bad dream. Did I wake you? And your... what is that, a leopard?
no subject
[ Maybe he'd have more empathy if he wasn't so weirded out by his new roommate, placed here after the house made Hope go away, with those glasses and… whatever he's wearing to bed, along with really fucked up nightmares. No one having a good dream (or even a regular bad dream) would be making a live impression of the first kill in a slasher movie, so. That answer tracks. Dom stands back up, petting the top of Dee's head as she sits down, looong tail flopped on the floor and wrapped around her front paws. She's watching you, Dwight. ]
Yeah, a snow leopard. Her name's Dee. We both heard you and thought she could help you chill out.
[ Which they didn't. Or did they? At least the guy's out of the dream, right? ]
You want some water or a towel or something? You're kinda sweaty.