[ A snowflake falls on Quentin's cheek, a sensation he feels through any numbness somehow. The cold hits him all over again, like it's new, like he just reentered the place. He shivers, eyes wide and looking around - something's wrong but it's not. He takes a deep breath. And he waits, not realizing anything changed at first.
Ash is taking a really long time, he thinks. He wants to express some urgency here and text him back. He thinks he does even. Various ways to ask "Where are you?" in nice terms that grow in increasing in urgency. It's snowing. It's really cold. He had pushed himself to stand before the ten minute mark, already taking a few steps into the snow to venture in after Ash.
Quentin reads the text with a hitched breath and his entire being tenses. There comes a point in every dream, usually almost instantly with him but it's not always the case despite trying to train it that way, when it switches into lucid dreaming. This is one of those moments. There's an ache in his chest that feels tight as panic sets in. He's gotten this text before, in real life. Mint chocolate chip? That's his favorite. Cookie dough, second. Quentin always says both. One scoop each. Did that ever since he was a kid. ]
Shit.
[ He doesn't respond to the text, instead opting to hit call on Ash's number, hanging up, hitting it again. As if doing it will will his sleeping body to hit it. (It doesn't). He grips and un-grips the hand not currently clutching a phone now, nervously taps it against his thigh while the other hand's thumb is rapidly hitting the call button. Ring. Hang up. Ring. Hang up. ]
Hurry up, hurry up, come back-
[ If he uses the outside exit, would it work as a dream exit too? ]
no subject
Ash is taking a really long time, he thinks. He wants to express some urgency here and text him back. He thinks he does even. Various ways to ask "Where are you?" in nice terms that grow in increasing in urgency. It's snowing. It's really cold. He had pushed himself to stand before the ten minute mark, already taking a few steps into the snow to venture in after Ash.
Quentin reads the text with a hitched breath and his entire being tenses. There comes a point in every dream, usually almost instantly with him but it's not always the case despite trying to train it that way, when it switches into lucid dreaming. This is one of those moments. There's an ache in his chest that feels tight as panic sets in. He's gotten this text before, in real life. Mint chocolate chip? That's his favorite. Cookie dough, second. Quentin always says both. One scoop each. Did that ever since he was a kid. ]
Shit.
[ He doesn't respond to the text, instead opting to hit call on Ash's number, hanging up, hitting it again. As if doing it will will his sleeping body to hit it. (It doesn't). He grips and un-grips the hand not currently clutching a phone now, nervously taps it against his thigh while the other hand's thumb is rapidly hitting the call button. Ring. Hang up. Ring. Hang up. ]
Hurry up, hurry up, come back-
[ If he uses the outside exit, would it work as a dream exit too? ]