He slept uneasily. The dream... the door... The fact that he knew he shouldn't push it open, the fact that he did anyway, the individual waiting for him on the other side of it, the colourless formless walls that because coloured formed walls. Crystals gave the room light, but it wasn't a room now, and there were others all around him with forms he could not actually see nor accurately place walking beside him. They were all walking. They were all silent, and they were all walking.

He, too, walked.

Doors and dreams cannot hurt him, but, oh, they can make his heart race.

Dreams and doors cannot touch him, but, oh, they can make his head swim and his breathing shorten.

Doors and doors and dreams and doors cannot, cannot, cannot...

A white room, a black fragment and the hand that held it, and his vision on everything and nothing at the same time. Do not touch me do not touch me do not touch me do not touch me...! A hand, bones, against his chest, and the last, panicked fluttering of his heart before it seemed to have stopped altogether.

The room spun, and spun...

"Watch out!" He spun, the dirt of the training field under his feet as he saw it hurtle through the air. The javelin thrown by the hand of a trainee Hunter who should have known better, who was reckless, who wasn't watching who was around him when he decided to demonstrate his prowess. Prowess that wasn't as high as he thought. His aim was bad, the javelin leaning away from its intended wooden target and toward a very new, very green trainee passing through.

He jumped for it. He jumped for them. They had frozen, all wide eyes and horror, as the javelin sailed for them. Too late, their arms came up. Too late, their knees bent and their feet turned to jump out of the way. It was too late, and they would not make it.

Richard, however, would.

He aimed to knock the javelin away, but his own aim was bad. Instead, his wide eyes met those of the younger trainee as he felt the impact, and knew then what the sudden wordless shout from the trainee meant. He could not feel the same horror he saw in front of him, numbness already around his body. He crumpled forward to the ground, dully aware of the feeling of the javelin in his back wobbling from the motion. He was also dully aware of the dirt under his face, the sound of activity around him.

Why was everything so noisy...?

Why was everything spinning...?

...Why was everything getting darker...?

Richard gasped, sitting upright in bed, shaking hands grasping fervently at the blanket he had apparently thrown off of him at some point. Running one of those shaking hands through his hair, he focused on a point on the other side of the room to try to get his heart rate down. He was okay... he was okay...

(506 WC)