There were no choices for Justin anymore. There was only one door left in this dream-like void. It was a dream, nothing more, but the sense of dread was palpable, his hand quivered when it got near the door. Everything said to run, his head and the splitting pain it held, the heart that was beating like a hummingbirds wings, threatening to escape his corporeal form. There was no waking up, try as he might to find something to latch onto, as an anchor to wake up but nothing worked.
There was only the door, a finality that he already knew. There was no coming back from this door. How he was aware of this was known he was unable to explain, it simply was. The door the shade of Shamrock beckoned and there was no avoiding it, he touched the handle and remembered.
Everything. Remembering everything. Flashes like on a projector of a set of slides. A life that felt estranged and disconnected. A normal life that fought to survive when disaster struck. Knowledge of things and eventualities began to pour in like the basin of a waterfall.
The senses returned, and brought clarity. This was the cusp of awakening, we had learned this from the door. The view was blocked with a spattering of vines, creeping things that climb and hung from any divot and crevice, the empty space was their playground. That and the lingering thoughts, of our shared purpose and that which was foreign thought. it spoke of falsifies, which was quelled and renewed our purpose. Justin, began to explore, to see and came to the realization that we were moving vines without touching them. The sight beyond sight showed that we had nothing to use to move. The foliage was quickly moving to rectify that, to fix the unyielding concept that form was a necessity. Thick pale vines began to gather upon the will we shared, forming the basework, the cornerstone of the structure while scraggly thin tendrils of olive and moss began to wind and weave between one another. Ashen pale ropes gathered and planked together, curving and smoothing to give function to form. A pelt of leaves, 2 sets of gnarled lines protruding from his skull was what the will wanted. This was Justin's new form, the awakened one.
Like a newborn, moving became an ordeal to learn, the vines flexed differently when taut, his form a shambling mess that quivered to stay together as he moved. Further along the way was the remains and a huddled mass of vegetation, a smooth taunt piece of ivory, envisioned without eyes. Moving the plants away revealed the peaceful face of the savior. The man who tried to deny - save- Liberate us from the knowledge and legacy. It was all known during the ordeal, how he was earnest in his attempt at rescue. A foolhardy and naive attempt at that, but still earnest in its purpose. Now the vines were after him, to merge and bestow the legacy on him.
A flick and the vines backed away, the males form was still intact, whole. Envy was the feeling, we were sure of it. The body was light when he carried it down the steps, the vines curling away to let us pass, the shorter vines that was used to keep him together fell like ribbons, was falling apart, till a fractured, broken item was there pushing the prone mans body out of the building into the fog, his own safety. It was the return of a good deed, or so we told ourselves, wrapping the remnants back in wood and sod and plant fibers.
Back inside the center, there was more movement, this was more jerky, not fluid. There were others. The floral vine blossomed on his chest, a curve heaving down only to circle back on itself near the end was on display. petals of rouge and snow stood out. Justin would find them, because he had the knowledge that he would.
