[ He wakes up in full armor and that's how he knows it's a dream. And he knows it's a dream from the start, which means it isn't his. Whether or not that's a good thing remains to be seen. The dreams have a tendency to go strange regardless of who's in control, dredging up pain and old memories like they're going out of style. But what is there to do except wander the halls of this place and find the sleeper? He cannot wake up on his own, or at least he hasn't found a way to just yet, and so this is the way of it.
The architecture is familiar. Not the specific place, but the shape of it. The feel. And the cadence the young woman is murmuring to herself.
Oh, he thinks. This is home. Maybe not his. Maybe not even his time, given her lack of armor. But someone who knows the score. He watches her for a moment, wondering if she's a Freelancer. A younger version, maybe.
Then, stricken, he wonders if the universe hates enough to bring Connie here after everything. The hair is the right color. ]
I haven't heard that one in a while.
[ His voice is low and rough, filtered through the mechanical distortion of his headset. He holds himself very still, standing there in his armor, and wonders if he'll look like a threat to her. ]
Dream sharing
The architecture is familiar. Not the specific place, but the shape of it. The feel. And the cadence the young woman is murmuring to herself.
Oh, he thinks. This is home. Maybe not his. Maybe not even his time, given her lack of armor. But someone who knows the score. He watches her for a moment, wondering if she's a Freelancer. A younger version, maybe.
Then, stricken, he wonders if the universe hates enough to bring Connie here after everything. The hair is the right color. ]
I haven't heard that one in a while.
[ His voice is low and rough, filtered through the mechanical distortion of his headset. He holds himself very still, standing there in his armor, and wonders if he'll look like a threat to her. ]