#aegri somnia

[deathdiet]

aegri somnia, troubled dreams from Horace, Ars Poetica

[z428]

Music for rainy nights. Lockdown leftovers.

https://invidious.nerdvpn.de/embed/sVQ-Q_X9b_M

#music for nights #dark ambient #cryo chamber #aegri somnia

[vickyvicarious]

Frantic, going insane, I leaped out of my stateroom and rushed into the lounge.

Captain Nemo was there. Mute, gloomy, implacable, he was staring through the port panel.

An enormous mass was sinking beneath the waters, and the Nautilus, missing none of its death throes, was descending into the depths with it. Ten meters away, I could see its gaping hull, into which water was rushing with a sound of thunder, then its double rows of cannons and railings. Its deck was covered with dark, quivering shadows.

The water was rising. Those poor men leaped up into the shrouds, clung to the masts, writhed beneath the waters. It was a human anthill that an invading sea had caught by surprise!

Paralyzed, rigid with anguish, my hair standing on end, my eyes popping out of my head, short of breath, suffocating, speechless, I stared—I too! I was glued to the window by an irresistible allure!

This scene hits so hard, all the more because the lounge window has been a place of wonder throughout almost the entire book. It has revealed many magnificent sights, and watching the ship sink and the men drown feels like a cruel twist on every scene of watching the fish beyond the window. Aronnax's delight in describing and cataloguing fish seems to be tainted by this experience, even - when he next describes the sights from the window it feels so perfunctory. Sure, they're moving too quickly for him to see well, but it also feels to me like he can't associate watching through this window with pleasant pasttimes anymore.

I was going to go back to the first time Nemo and Aronnax looked out the lounge window together to contrast it with this scene, when I realized something quite interesting. Nemo... never really does that. For all that the sights out of the lounge are some of the heart of the story/the journey for Aronnax, he never is actually shown to sit and indulge in them or seem to take joy from them. In fact, that first incredible sight when the window opened and the stowaways were dazzled by the fish outside - Nemo presumably orchestrated that, but he wasn't in the room. He didn't come back until the window was closed. And that's the normal state of affairs.

It's not that he's never in the lounge, or even never in the lounge when the window is opened. But he never seems to be there for pleasure, or when he is it's nearly always linked to destruction and death in some way. Here are the most notable instances I could find of Nemo being in the lounge (and I think all with the window open, at least that I could find):

In "Vanikoro" he opens the panels and Aronnax is delighted by the coral Nemo shows him... only to notice underneath it the "desolate wreckage" of ships which are what Nemo actually intended to show him. He's described as "solemn".

In "The Greek Island" Nemo comes to the lounge looking "silent and preoccupied" and Aronnax notes that it is "contrary to custom" for him to have both panels be opened. He looks out carefully, and while Aronnax soon gets distracted by fish, it becomes apparent that Nemo was looking for the diver he was expecting.

In "The Bay of Vigo" he invites Aronnax to join him at the lounge window again - still to show him a shipwreck, but in this case specifically the one full of treasure he was collecting.

In "Sargasso Sea" Nemo comes closest to just enjoying the sights from the window. He opens it as they go as low as possible. This is still in service of a scientific experiment of sorts but it seems to be one for curiousity/pleasure and he seems more lighthearted with his offer to take a picture. However it is somewhat notable that during this experiment they sink so deep that no life is visible.

In "Sperm Whales and Baleen Whales" Nemo is in the lounge with the window open, but while the stowaways watch out the window, "Captain Nemo made his way to the helmsman’s side to operate his submersible as an engine of destruction."

He shows up to look at the giant squids in "The Devilfish" shortly before declaring they will fight them.

During "In Latitude 47° 24’ and Longitude 17° 28’" Nemo once again points out a shipwreck to Aronnax. 'The Avenger' this time.

While there are nuances, he almost always is there on business, almost always serious or upset. He mostly seems focused on scenes of past death/destruction, or impending ones when he is about to fight something. It sounds like he doesn't often just look out at the beauty of the underwater world. The lounge and its window is a place of such wonder and delight in the natural world - but not when Nemo is present.

It's such a clever subtle detail.

[the-graves-family]

Aaron came home today.

[rurinkk]

Aegri Somnia

[writing-reference-redux]

I felt like sharing my collection of Latin phrases that may make good fanfic or fanart titles or inspiration. Some of the translations may be off, so you might want to double-check them before use. Also, I used capitalization liberally so you might also want to check where capitalization is actually indicated.

Ab Intra (From Within)

Acta Est Fabula (The play has been performed)

Acta Sancti ___ (The Deeds of Saint ___)

Ad Undas (to the waves / to hell)

Advocatus Diaboli (Devil's advocate)

Aegri Somnia (a sick man's dreams / troubled dreams)

Alea Iacta Est (the die has been cast / point of no return)

Apologia Pro Vita Sua (defense of one's life)

Caetera Desunt (the rest is missing)

Cedere Nescio (I know not how to yield)

Damnatio Memoriae (damnation of memory / denying someone ever lived)

De Nobis Fabula Narratur (their story is our story)

Decessit Vita Patris (died before their father)

Diem Perdidi (I have lost the day)

Dies Tenebrosa Sicut Nox (a day as dark as night)

Dolor Hic Tibi Proderit Olim (some day this pain will be useful to you)

Dulce Est Desipere In Loco (It is sweet on occasion to play the fool)

Dum Vivimus, Vivamus (while we live, let us live)

Dux Bellorum (war leader)

Ex Umbra In Solem (from the shadow into the light)

Festina Lente (hurry slowly)

Fortis Cadere, Cedere Non Potest (the brave may fall, but can not yield)

Fui Quod Es, Eris Quod Sum (I once was what you are, you will be what I am)

Graviora Manent (heavier things remain / the worst is yet to come)

Haec Olim Meminisse Iuvabit (one day, this will be pleasing to remember)

Hic Mortui Vivunt (here the dead speak)

Hinc Illae Lacrimae (hence those tears)

Hodie Mihi, Cras Tibi (Today it's me, tomorrow it will be you - of death)

Iacate Et Scire (Be still and know)

In Ictu Oculi (in the blink of an eye)

In Somnis Veritas (in dreams there is truth)

Inter Spem Et Metum (between hope and fear)

Lapsus Memoriae (slip of memory)

Luctor, Non Mergor (I struggle, but am not overwhelmed)

Lux Ex Tenebris (light from darkness)

Media Vita In Morte Sumus (In the midst of our lives we die)

Memento Mori (remember that you will die)

Memento Vivere (remember to live)

Morior Invictus (I die unvanquished / death before defeat)

Mundus Senescit (the world grows old)

Nemini Parco (I spare no one - death)

Nitimur In Vetitum (we strive for the forbidden)

Non Ducor, Duco (I am not led; I lead)

Non Omnis Moriar (I shall not all die / part of me will survive beyond death)

Nunc Scio Quid Sit Amor (now I know what love is)

Oderint Dum Metuant (let them hate, so long as they fear)

Omnia Mutantur (everything changes)

Onus Probandi (burden of proof)

Opera Posthuma (posthumous works)

Ophidia In Herba (a snake in the grass)

Pax Aeterna (eternal peace - a common epitaph)

Primum Non Nocere (first do no harm)

Pulvis Et Umbra Sumus (we are dust and shadow)

Quis Leget Haec? (who will read this?)

Quod Periit, Periit (what Is gone is gone)

Res, Non Verba (deeds, not words)

Respice Finem (consider the end)

Scientia Et Sapientia (knowledge and wisdom)

Seculo Seculorum (forever and ever)

Sed Terrae Graviora Manent (but on earth, worse things await)

Si Vis Pacem Para Bellum (if you want peace, prepare for war)

Sic Infit (so it begins)

Sic Vita Est (such is life)

Silentium Est Aureum (silence is golden)

Sine Nomine (without a name / author unknown)

Sola Dosis Facit Venemum (the dose makes the poison)

Solvitur Ambulando (it is solved by walking / simple tests find solutions)

Stamus Contra Malum (we stand against evil)

Succisa Virescit (cut down, we grow back stronger)

Sum Quod Eris (I am what you will be - of death)

Summum Bonum (the supreme good)

Summum Malum (the supreme evil)

Sunt Lacrimae Rerum (there are tears for things)

Sunt Omnes Unum (they are all one)

Tabula Rasa (blank slate)

Transire Benefaciendo (to travel along while doing good)

Tu Fui Ego Eris (I was you; you will be me - of death)

Ubi Amor, Ibi Dolor (where there is love, there is pain)

Ultima Forsan (perhaps the last / sundial quote "perhaps your last hour")

Usque Ad Finem (until the end / fight to the death)

Vi Et Animo (with heart and soul)

Victoria Aut Mors (victory or death)

Vincit Qui Patitur (he conquers who endures)

Vita Ante Acta (a life done before - of reincarnation)

Vivere Militare Est (to live is to fight)

Vox Clamantis In Deserto (the voice of one crying in the wilderness)

There are also some longer ones that may not make good titles because of their length, but are still worth inclusion:

Aut Simul Stabunt Aut Simul Cadent (they will either stand together or fall together)

Flectere Si Nequeo Superos, Acheronta Movebo (if I can not reach Heaven I will raise Hell)

Forsan Et Haec Olim Meminisse Iuvabit (perhaps even these things will be good to remember one day)

Igitur Qui Desiderat Pacem, Praeparet Bellum (therefore whoever desires peace, let him prepare for war)

In Regione Caecorum Rex Est Luscus (in the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king)

Minus Malum Toleratur Ut Maius Tollat (choose the lesser evil so a greater evil may be averted)

Quem Deus Vult Perdere, Dementat Prius (whom the gods would destroy, they first make mad)

Ubi Sunt, Qui Ante Nos Fuerunt? (Where are they, those who have gone before us?)

Virtus Junxit Mors Non Separabit (that which virtue unites, let not death separate)

[cherryfennec]

writing attempt numba 2 kinda sorta, grandpas feeling more alive than ever

[webxgal]

memento vivere [masterlist]

"camera shutters. azure eyes meet yours. living feels right."

content: fem!reader, reader-insert but im being self-indulgent cw: character death, spoilers for p3, suicide, violence, discussion on religion

[Ⅰ] memento mori - ao3

[Ⅱ] ab origine - ao3

[Ⅲ] alea iacta est - ao3

[Ⅳ] mala ipsa nova - ao3

[Ⅴ] maiora premunt - ao3

[Ⅵ] sapere aude - ao3

[Ⅶ] aegri somnia - ao3

[Ⅷ] ne puero gladium - ao3

[Ⅸ] probis pateo - ao3

[Ⅹ] cogito, ergo sum - ao3

[Ⅺ] proximo mense - ao3

[Ⅻ] ex facie - ao3

[astrovenomous]

um also given the moment i want to share something that nobody asked for but i did it anyway

my own mspfa! yeah let's all agree that despite me stating to myself that i would NEVER make my very own mspfa, i uhh.....we all knew it was comin a'right

here's the link if u wanna check it out!

[gardenofshadcws]

Voyage of the Nautilus Day 32

Aegri Somnia Parts 3 and 4

I missed yesterday but not much happened so it’s chill

“Nemo’s so smart he gets more accurate measurements than anybody else I love him so much”

“the most intense fascination” 😏

Aronnax still believes Nemo has any interest in the benefit of mankind Pierre you sweet summer child

“some personal enlightenment having nothing to do with science”. 😏😏😏

[dirtbra1n]

the river looks different than it normally does.

it’s nighttime. the moon hangs gaunt and yellowed over his head.

more than that, masato stands knee deep in the water and watches people walk the paved riverside, red neon carving shadows into the hollows of their eyes.

the river looks different than it normally does, but so does he.

a white kimono, fitted too well, is wrapped wrong over his chest.

the water tugging at him is murky, the smell over-sweet. the kimono is taking on the color.

evidently, though he can scarcely see, it’s red.

his room is pitch dark when he opens his eyes. masato damn near throws up. moving to stand, his knees buckle beneath him. gravity acts particularly cruel in the dark.

—

aegri somnia, latin; a sick man’s dreams.

—

it’s usually green. the space outside the water is usually green. masato would even go so far as to say it’s always green. washed out, sun bleached, makes him feel a little like he’s always being watched, but it is always daytime and it is always green and the water is always clear enough for him to see his hands in front of his face as—

this doesn’t actually matter right now.

what matters is that it has never been anything but green before.

(when he was sitting cold and dying in a frozen river, that was a fluke. that doesn’t count.)

ordinarily, he stands in the river—unpaved, the riverbank wasn’t ever paved either—and watches what he’s decided has to be centuries old scenery exist, only here, to torment him.

then masato drowns himself. ordinarily.

(with the development in the subconscious violence he’s inflicting upon himself now, he figures he might as well admit that much plainly.)

masato is good with history, not that this topic takes much savvy—river valleys universally birth societies. they tend to be fertile and bursting with opportunity. lively. full of life.

all those flood myths are universal because the destruction is always catastrophic.

the overlap of history and literature here isn’t something he’s left wondering about; he’s had plenty of time stuck with himself to think it over.

what existed must be razed to be remade.

what masato is wondering is if he missed something else.

—

all those drownings, but the coffin bobbed downstream to save him only once.

but this last time… he didn’t drown, did he?

—

he doesn’t know what he was expecting.

when masato finds himself, this time, past his knees in changed river water, yellowed moon hanging over him like a sickle, deep blues of the night muffling the sound of his own breathing, lantern light and buzzing neon so red that it masks the dyed water creeping its way up the same white kimono as before…

he doesn’t know what to think. it’s horrifying. it’s gorgeous.

it has to be blood, though.

why the hell is there blood?

masato squints up at the masses of people shifting on the pavement. their faces are indistinct, their movements stiff.

they don’t so much as glance at him. he’s standing in the river with an audience for the first time and no one even looks at him.

reluctantly, he looks down at himself.

he’s bleeding.

—

it wasn’t really the first time, though, was it?

—

masato forgot how annoying it is to be in this situation. he got too used to the old scenery, and he forgot.

he only wishes that this scenery wasn’t so breathtaking. only one thing is supposed to be taking his breath away, and it hasn’t done it in… a while.

(he doesn’t remember. he figures that’s bad, but look where he is. everything, it turns out, is bad.)

his latest observation: the moon, waning and never any closer to full, is getting sharper. its reflection in the water is rippling harmlessly, but the real thing, when he squints, looks to be pointed right at his stomach.

and the water is past his hips now.

oh. oh, good.

his new latest observation: time loops, and it warps the blood in the water over and over and over again. every time the water level’s higher. every time the moon gets sharper.

every time masato is surrounded by ghosts, and every time masato is the only one dressed for a funeral service.

as the corpse.

—

so what if graduation is less than a week away. yes, masato has been waking up in the middle of the night because of an unsettling now-recurring dream where he is a corpse in a world of faceless ghosts. yes, it sucks.

but he and tashiro are playing rock paper scissors over which of them has to turn off the gym lights and make a run for the lights outside, and this is the last time masato is ever going to hold any responsibility here.

and they both keep tying on rock.

so they agree to do it together.

tashiro’s the one to flick the lights off, and they both drop into a dead sprint towards the open doors. they hear a noise. they find it in themselves to run faster.

they make it outside in one piece, and masato fumbles the key into the lock, and they fall halfway into each other’s arms from the adrenaline and the fear. and masato is laughing.

as they’re walking away from the gym, towards the front gate to head home, masato is hunched over, clutching his stomach.

tashiro walks alongside him with his hands on the back of his head, pouting a little. “we could have DIED, you know.”

so it’s like that.

—

the moon is falling. pierces his lungs clean through.

—

tashiro gonzaburou doesn’t actually dream very often. this is something he can tell you in confidence, and he will tell you in confidence.

but this is definitely a dream, and he has no idea where something like this came from.

to set the scene: he’s at the bank of a river. he’s alone. the sun beats down on him, and the glare of it on the water makes him turn his eyes away.

apparently, in this time, the river floods. it, also apparently, took basically everything with it. including the sun.

it’s night now, and everything that was green is either dark orange or blood red. dim and damp alleyways run jaggedly between impersonal skyscrapers and crumbling, very old storefronts.

gonzaburou’s scared as hell about it. it’s all really cool.

he’s standing on damp cobblestone, staring down at his scattered reflection. his hair is loose, and his roots have grown out way more than he likes. a dark kimono hangs loose off his frame. he frowns.

he looks back up and around. it looks like there are other people, but he can’t get a good look at anyone’s face. the lights glazing their skin are distorting common features, or they’re facing away from him, or their hands are resting over their eyes.

for all his sightseeing, the river never lets him forget that it’s there. from two steps away he looks into murky water, sees a yellow crescent moon flickering, like it’s trapped, in its reflection. then he sees the briefest trace of a hand, and white cloth, and bubbles surfacing.

and then he sees his room’s ceiling fan. dusty.

gonzaburou feels a little like he wasn’t supposed to see that. and he feels even more strongly that he definitely isn’t supposed to remember it awake.

but how could he forget? how could anyone forget something like that?

it was really pretty. up until he saw what looked like someone drowning, anyway.

—

masato sits up. lays down. sits back up.

he wants to break his windows. he doesn’t, though.

he was underwater looking up, and he was bleeding, and he saw the moon, yeah, but what matters is that he also saw the faintest silhouette of a person against the red light, ripples only just obscuring his face.

and then he gasped, and the water burned as it flowed into his lungs and made him heavy.

he’d been in that situation before, usually by choice, but it hasn’t ever been that thrilling.

4:00 in the morning. not a chance in hell he’s getting back to sleep.

…he has to have weird tastes, right?

—

hanzawa masato is a high school graduate when he eats shit on the pavement.

a little flatly, masato tells tashiro, “I’m usually better at compartmentalizing than this.”

tashiro, his sole witness, only replies, “I know.”

[voyageofthenautilus]

Mod Blue: I said that I didn’t think I’d share any thoughts on “Aegri Somnia” until the chapter was over, and now it turns out that I have little to say about it except that I admire Jules Verne’s way of lulling readers into a state where they think “oh, this is going to be an innocuous chapter about fish and geography,” before WHAM! Jumping out and hitting you with a plot twist in the last few paragraphs of the chapter. It happened before with the chapter that ends with the sight of a shipwreck, and “Aegri Somnia” is perhaps the best example of this. This effect is similar to how Aronnax is lulled into a state of contentment with his imprisonment, to the point of worshipping his captor, before WHAM! Nemo shows his vengeful side and reminds Aronnax that there are some very… fishy things happening on board this ship. And I’m not talking about what the fish are doing.

Tomorrow’s chapter, I’m announcing this right now, is my favorite chapter in the book. It’s also roughly the halfway point, or at least where Verne divided the narrative between Part 1 and Part 2. So while we’re on the cusp: any readers want to chime in about the experience? Do you have a favorite chapter yourself, so far? Or maybe you’ve read the book and your favorite part is yet to come? How are you liking this voyage? I hope you’re all enjoying it as much as Aronnax is, and not loathing it as much as Ned is.

[clamarcap]

Chimera - II

Chimera – II

Lera Auėrbach (1973): Sinfonia n. 1, Chimera (2006). Düsseldorfer Symphoniker, dir. John Fiore. Aegri somnia Post tenebras lux [4:17] Gargolle [8:38] Et in Arcadia ego [15:33] Siste, viator [18:51] Humum mandere [20:37] Requiem pro Icaro [23:37]

[shockdowndefiance]

Aegri Somnia (Troubled Dreams) Chapter 7/?

The threat of the Reapers has been held at bay with the defeat of Saren and Sovereign. The Citadel Council has been saved, albeit at the expense of many Alliance lives. With the Normandy in dock for repairs and shore leave ordered for the whole crew, Kaidan invites Allison Shepard to join him on his planned shore leave to Casablanca and Vancouver.

What starts off as fun and responsibility-free time together begins to unwind as the dreams Allison has been having since Eden Prime resurface with more frightening visuals. And when news of Terra Nova under threat from batarian terrorists filters through, Kaidan begins to see a side of Allison he'd never suspected would exist.

Aegri Somnia - literal translation 'A Sick Man's Dreams', taken from Ars Poetica by Horace.

Read fic from the beginning - word count 20,573

Read from newest chapter (chapter 7) - word count 3046

Rated Mature for canon-typical violence, swearing, and sexual implications. Features a custom Shepard, Allison Shepard, Vanguard, Paragade, Spacer, War Hero, with a Kaidan romance

[the-graves-family]

Aegri Somnia: Sick Man's Dream

09-02-2024

It’s cold.

Aaron hasn’t been home in days.

No footsteps, no slamming doors, no yelling, no hitting. Nothing. The house is still, as if it’s holding its breath, frozen in time waiting for its master’s return. 

Each minute crawls by, painfully slow. Ace has no way to tell the time, except for the darkness that falls at dusk, and the light that breaks through at dawn. His brother will surely be upset when he returns: the chores haven’t been done. He can expect vicious words and strikes when Aaron returns. The thought only brings misery, condenses in his chest and leaves him feeling desolate.

He’s not sure if the persistent cough that has plagued him for weeks is gone, or if he’s just too weak to cough anymore. It had certainly felt like he’d broken something for a while. Pain is a familiar feeling, a constant companion for the last decade or so. He’s not sure if it’s a good or bad thing. On one hand, he’s not too bothered by everything that seems to be going wrong with his body now. On the other hand, it could be really serious, and he wouldn’t know. What’s one more ache in the midst of hundreds?

A few hours ago, he’d been in the most pain he’d ever felt besides the accident that had cost him his limbs. Writhing on the bed and gasping for air, begging for help. Now, he feels almost nothing.

Except for the cold. The cold is really starting to bother him.

Ace’s lungs haven’t been the same since the bomb. Makes sense, he’s missing half of one. But he can’t remember ever breathing so shallowly. It feels like no oxygen is getting into his blood, but he can’t even muster up the energy to panic. Every sensation feels foggy and distant.

Memories flicker to the forefront of his mind without his permission, faraway blurs of color and sound. Voices, faces, things that seemingly hold no meaning anymore.

Ace thinks of Adrian.

He’d like a hug from his brother, right about now. Adrian gives the bestest, warmest hugs. He can’t remember the last time he’d gotten one, and it makes him irrationally sad. He’s so cold. Why can’t his big brother come and help him?

Why isn’t anyone helping him…?

Another memory, and it’s the faces of two women he can’t recognize anymore. They feel important, so important, but their names are lost to him. Ace can’t remember where he knew them from, but it feels like he should never have forgotten them. Like an unconscious betrayal. He wonders how long ago they met. It must have been a long time, for everything to have faded away, surely. He remembers a small room, remembers rowdy meals, waiting patiently for something important to happen—

Ace feels incredibly alone for a moment, before a full-body shiver brings him back to the present by reminding him that his whole being aches dully. Cold.

It’s dark outside, and the light in the hallway has been flickering on and off for a while. Ace doesn’t know why he left the door to his room open: he usually closes it to avoid Aaron.

He’s not completely sure why he wants to avoid Aaron.

His twin, his other half. Why does the mere thought of him make Ace’s heart race, cold sweat run down his back? It makes the cotton-like confusion swirling in his head even worse. A lot of things aren’t making sense, and he doesn’t know how to fix it.

Ace is good at fixing things. Used to be, at least.

The face of a dark-skinned man flashes behind his eyes, and he has to curl up and whimper from the sheer agony of knowing he should recognize him. It feels so important, like everything will fall into place if he just remembers. He doesn’t know what he’s feeling. The man feels familiar, and kind. Warm, big hands. Wonderful hugs. He thinks about walks in the park, and dinners with candles on the table. A lot of people asking him questions and talking to him in a language he's barely started to understand. Awkward but heartwarming, because it means they care.

He’s so confused.

Why is he even thinking of people who aren’t family?

Family is everything, Father had always told him that. He has to be a good brother, and a good son, and everything will be alright. Adam’s sure that if he is good and dutiful, all these feelings and all this suffering will just be washed away by caring hands. Make him warm again.

He wonders where Father is. Even when he was very busy with his cases, he’d always find the time to visit his sons if they were sick. Adam feels very sick.

The more he stares at the white sheet on the bed, unable to even lift his head, the more he’s sure he’s never had white sheets in their room. Uncle always likes to use the colorful ones. Every shade of blue he could find, because Uncle says that white sheets remind him of hospitals.

Hospitals… something about hospitals…

Memories of his childhood room are tainted by smoke and burning plastic, blood pouring out of him unimpeded. No, nothing happened at the cabin. Right? No fires.

Adam’s scared. He doesn’t like being scared.

Aaron always makes him feel better when he’s scared. His twin is never scared, and he always says he’ll beat the crap out of anything that scares Adam. It makes him feel really safe. Even if they’re not supposed to use words like that. That’s just the way Aaron is, always breaking the rules.

The light outside his room flickers once more, and he’s sure he hears footsteps in the hallway.

Aaron’s home.

It’s getting really hard to keep his eyes open, but Adam still finds it in him to smile,  despite the racing heart, despite the chills down his spine. His twin’s home. Everything’s going to be okay. He wants to sit up, to greet his brother properly, but for some reason, his body doesn’t seem very keen on listening to him anymore. He’s trying his best, but all he can manage is some weak twitching. His limbs are numb, like something’s pinching all his nerves at once.

The more time Aaron takes from the door to his room, the harder it is to keep smiling. Why is he taking so long?

Darkness blurs the edges of his vision and he struggles to keep his eyes open. It's hard to see, hard to stay awake. He's tired. Nothing even hurts anymore.

Adam tries to sit up again, but the wave of nausea and exhaustion that overcomes him keeps him planted firmly on the bed. He doesn’t understand. He'd been fine just… yesterday? He can't—

He's very tired, and so very cold. Maybe he should rest for a little bit. Close his eyes for a few minutes before Aaron comes to him.

A shape in the doorway, gray and indistinct, makes him blink. Is he finally not alone anymore?

“...Aaron?”

But Adam is tired, so tired. 

He closes his eyes.

The house becomes empty.

[triopse]

Morten* +History [inktober52] + listening: “Archives” of Aegri Somnia]

[in character; not in the plot]

*From my Bunkers - link to this game via Itch in bio