It started with a faint light shining in the distance, then, came the distorted faces.
There was movement, far too fast for him to follow, dashes of color appeared and objects he couldn't quite make out. There was gray and so, so much blue, and in between them both stood a shining beacon of burnt orange calling out to him. It flickered back and forth between the ghost of a memory and the haunting reality he had not yet seen.
The light suddenly died out and he awoke with a start, gasping for air as his hands reached out in panic. He clawed, punched and kicked with all the strength left in a body weakened by disuse, until something gave out with a loud hiss of air and he crumbled to the floor in an ungraceful heap.
He coughed and wheezed as his body fought to get some much needed air in his lungs. His entire body ached and he was cold, far too cold as he curled up on himself to try and guard the chill off.
Why was he so cold?
Another loud hiss made him startle where he laid, and with no little effort he lifted his head and looked around.
There, only a few feet behind, another body hit the floor. It was enough of a shock to his still disoriented mind that all he could do was crawl closer, reaching out with shaky hands to make sure he wasn't stuck in some kind of nightmare. He only noticed the coughing after checking for a pulse, but once he did his head hit the ground once more.
What the fuck happened?
