#◟〈 ♠ 〉 kallen kaslana ━━ 🇨​🇭​🇦​🇷​🇦​🇨​🇹​🇪​🇷​﹒

[avcnturine]

HEAVY IS THE HEAD THAT'S DEALING WITH A MIGRAINE　♤　when a lady starts to yell. burying a muttering groan with his chin dropped to his chest, he presses the heel of his palm harder against the throbbing eye, dulling its protest under the pressure. several second pass like that, floating dots of color bursting behind an imperfect black curtain. when he finally looks up again, things sound like they've calmed back down ; his vision's a little blurry, and the light off the starkly white walls is bright enough to make him squint, but the muddy pool of colors in the distance by the large observation window hasn't moved. as his vision slowly refocuses, he realizes that one more guy has joined them, three where previously it'd been two.

were more people waking up? and if they were, did that mean that others had started to figure out the way out of the dream like he had, or something else? just misfortune catching them at the right time?

"ugh. . . " he should try to get up and see——unlikely that sitting here rubbing his head was going to get him feeling better faster.

bracing himself against the thin cotton mattress, he swings one leg, then the other, over the side of the elevated gurney, eyeing the distant, gleaming floor with a frown. polished to a shine, promising an unwieldy descent, and on top of that, these things were probably on wheels. no doubt they weren't planning on people trying to get down by themselves. . .

with things elsewhere on him fortunately subsided, he can feel more comfortable positioning himself to make the jump. a hard blink, a sigh ; he centers his weight on his hands as best as he can and gives a push.

expecting something to slip out precariously underneath him, he's surprised when everything stays impressively stable when he lands, and equally surprised——with some relief——that his legs don't just immediately give out. unsteadily, a couple light sways test his balance, and with another firm, circular knead of a hand at the side of his head, the world starts to feel a little bit more normal. still taking some time for everything to come back one hundred percent, but he'd get there.

in the meantime, the conversation some ways away only makes itself known through pantomime ; he can see the motions, but any voices aren't close enough to make out. so, giving his clothes a few smoothing pats more out of habit than efficacy, he gingerly makes his way over, only thinly disguising the twin drums of discomfort still smarting behind chest and cranium. once he's close enough for them to acknowledge his approach, he gives a tepid wave and a half-ironic smile. "heavens, this place wouldn't happen to provide painkillers, would it? the wake-up call really doesn't come easy."

faces come into focus where before had been formless figures ; he looks from one to the next with passive curiosity. "miss kallen? what a coincidence. and, mr. reca," recognizable from his notoriety in spite of the different circles they ran in, "so it really was you at the hotel. turns out the voice was telling the truth, and you really did die after all."

⋆✦₊‧ — PURGATORIO.

Blade, Mr. Reca, & Kallen. — Revelation 2025 : Research.

[avcnturine]

IN A ROOM WITH NO CLOCKS AND NO WINDOWS ,　♤　it's hard to know how much time has passed. have they been milling here for an hour? four? a day? he'd like to believe they haven't lost so much track of time for it to be that long. thankfully, he feels much better already than he did right after waking up ; the ache in his chest——phantom pain of a body registering a shot to the heart that'd never happened——is almost completely gone, and he finally feels more like himself.

the passage of this third, or eighth, or twenty-fourth hour finds him loitering toward the leftmost end of one of the seemingly endless rows of gurneys a couple rows shy of the room's halfway point. one bed after another, after another, after another. the only difference between each of them is slight variations in the shape and size of the lumps under the sheet, and otherwise small inconsistencies in the exact angle of the attached instrument here or the direction of a cord's twist there. these are mundane observations, but feel strangely critical after the last room he'd stood in before escaping the dream. he can still recreate it clearly: a hall of infinite identical black doors, each embellished with the same silver handle. the same thickness of paint, the same bump where the sealant met the hinge. he'd only gone inside one of the rooms, but he's sure without a doubt that if he'd opened any of the other doors, he would've been greeted with the same room. not just an identical one ; the very same.

click, click, click. the punctuated rhythm of someone's approach is a welcome anchor drawing him back out of his reverie, and he turns readily, eyes settling on the pale-haired young woman who'd woken up before him. in the harsh light of the lab that permitted no shadows, she looks smaller than he remembers, the energy and verve she'd displayed before muted like something that shied from the sun. "if not for all this mess, we might still be playing darts in the corner of some out-of-the-way dive bar," he greets with an easy smile. "i hope you were at least able to enjoy it while it lasted, miss kallen."　/　@virtuouslife

𝗣𝗔𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗡 𝗥𝗘𝗖𝗢𝗚𝗡𝗜𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡⠀──⠀⋆˙⛃

#GHRevelation2025⠀∶⠀research

[avcnturine]

GRIEF BEARS DOWN HEAVY ON HER SHOULDERS LIKE A SHAWL.　♤　he watches her tentative attention flit from him to the covered bed they're standing by, on which it's all too easy to imagine a corpse instead of someone sleeping, and his own idly follows. for what it's worth, the rise and fall of those put under is still visible and helps to dismantle that kind of macabre illusion——up. . . down. . . together, all hundred or more of them create some kind of silent, syncopated heartbeat, the deafening silence of their breathing loud enough to fill the room. isn't it funny how none of them are snoring?

miss kallen is a compassionate person, kind enough to think of the suffering of others inside a dream and tender enough to let that rob her of her own fulfillment. that's a shame, he thinks. after all, fun was had, regardless of whatever was happening now. she'd won their little competition too——easily. of the two of them, it was his heart that hadn't been in it that night. all this goes unspoken behind a smile in the wake of her frown: small, empathetic, an acknowledgement of her misgivings and maybe even agreement ; the slant of his eyes is gentle.

it dissipates in the next second when she changes the topic, and he looks again at their bleak and spartan surroundings. "probably not, but then not everyone in empyrea was hearing voices either." a thought comes to him then, planted by the seemingly unspoken curiosity undercutting the girl's own question. "most likely only the ones who did are here."

a beat. then, without preamble, he circles around to the head of the nearmost bed, looking down at the draped sheet——and reaches out, peeling the edge of it back without ado. short wisps of brown hair greet him from beneath, the ends dyed blue ; angular and freckled features ; a prominent nose. someone he doesn't recognize. but now he wonders if the others might be. ratio should be somewhere in this room, among others. "have you considered looking around?" periphery of bright eyes catches kallen again, smile once more subtle. "i'll admit i'm pretty curious to see who else they took."

𝗣𝗔𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗡 𝗥𝗘𝗖𝗢𝗚𝗡𝗜𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡⠀──⠀⋆˙⛃

#GHRevelation2025⠀∶⠀research