(no subject)

[e_delmar]

It's cold, and the wind's howling out there like a sumbitch, and Ennis Del Mar finds himself caught up in the thin sheet, tossing and turning until he's wrapped like a mummy and panicking, a thin sheen of sweat on his face. He cries out and manages to free an arm, punching into the air-


not the air. A person.

Comments

[e_delmar]

There's a leak in the tent, or must be somethin' like that, 'cause the water on Ennis' cheeks ain't going away, but's coming fast and hard now. He reaches out for Jack as a chill comes through his bones with the wind, trying for some of that warmth, some of that comfort.

[jack_f_twist]

Jack says something, could be calm down or could be miss you or could be nothing at all. He pulls away, looking at Ennis and he's intent and he's sad and he's confused all at the same time, and the rain drowns out whatever it is he might be saying.

"Ennis?" he says (and that comes out clear), bewildered, as the shadows start creeping in further. He doesn't seem to notice them, and somehow Jack's dry, despite the rain and the leak--or no leak, though the tent's a pretty cheap canvas number (Fuckin cheap Aguirre, Jack would say).

[e_delmar]

"Jack," he says but he can't hardly hear his own voice, and it's almost like Jack's see-through, 'cause hell if he can't see the floor of the tent where Jack was laying.

[jack_f_twist]

Jack's there and not and the mountain is cold--easy to forget just how cold, how lonesome the camp could get. There's the clip-clop of hooves outside, or maybe it's the banging of metal on...something, or the branches of the trees knocking into each other.

"Fucked up dream," Jack says, like the last few minutes never happened, like he isn't shadowy and blurred around the edges and hard to grab hold of, as if he were nothing more than a thick cloud of smoke.

[e_delmar]

Fucked up dream is all Ennis hears as he twists in his bed, blankets tangled around him, and his eyes open only once before he falls back asleep.