dracobin: (flight)
Temeraire ([personal profile] dracobin) wrote in [community profile] aungier 2013-07-19 01:03 am (UTC)

Stairwell | OPEN

He wakes to the sound of shattering bone echoing in his ears.

For a moment Temeraire lies there, winded, his heart thudding painfully loud in his chest, the ceiling still spinning in patches of farmland green. He winces and closes his eyes, but that is no good, that is worse: when he closes his eyes he can see the grey creature shiver once, abruptly, and go silent under the weight of its opponent.

Shuddering, he claws his way into a vaguely upright position, having only the presence of mind to throw on a dressing-gown before stumbling outside, eyes only half-seeing. This is not right. This house--this house is too small, too cold, and he should not be here, and his balance feels wrong, walking feels wrong--

The stairwell looms ahead, and Temeraire lurches toward it like a drunkard, curiously intent. That seems right. There is more open air there. Room to breathe. To fly.

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