Ken Amada (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
vessel_ken_amada) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
personavelvetroomdr2024-02-24 06:07 pm
vessel_ken_amada) wrote in personavelvetroomdr2024-02-24 06:07 pm
Ken's arrival
Ken Amada was barely listening while Igor made his introductory speech, his mind occupied by a more pressing question: "what's going on?". This place made no sense at all, and he certainly had no idea of how he ended up there. The last thing he remembered was going to bed...
Oh, a dream! That made sense. This was a dream.
(Even though his senses were screaming at him that it was wrong wrong wrong, and his mind was yelling that this is not a dream this is not a dream this is not a dream)
This place was making him feel uneasy however, and he would rather avoid this unpleasant feeling to last until he woke up. So he walked towards one of the doors leaving the room, his steps unconsciously guiding him towards the one that felt the most familiar to him... and ended up in what looked like Tatsumi Port Island. Huh. Well, it is known that dreams take inspiration from real-life memories.
(But this was not a dream, not a dream, and his senses were still screaming that the place was wrong, although it did not feel as wrong as the previous room)
Since this uneasy feeling was not willing to leave him be, he decided to wake himself up. He's had more than enough nightmares to know the routine by now, it was almost as natural to him as breathing air. He'd be up in two seconds.
Or not.
(Because this is not a dream, not a dream, look at this place, look at you, it's real, it's wrong, it's fake, it's not a dream not a dream)
The fog that was clouding his brain finally lifted, and a moment of clarity and dreadful realization hit Ken all at once. He had wrapped himself inside the nice, comfortable thought that this was a dream to not face reality. The truth was, what Igor had said was correct. He had somehow been transported in a weird world in order to "make bonds".
Anger seized him suddenly. Was that a sick joke? He finally had a drive, a motivation, something to push himself forward and cling to the miserable mockery of life he had left, and now he was robbed of even that?! Flung somewhere else, with no end date in sight, to... what? Make friends in Care Bears World? All other people ever felt about him were condescension and pity. Why would he willingly submit himself to such a thing?
He could feel tears well up in his eyes, but he refused to cry. Crying was childish, crying was weak, crying was an invitation to be pitied, or worse, to be taken advantage of. He would not cry. His breath accelerated. He would not cry. He sat down on a sidewalk, back against a wall. He would not cry. He did not cry. He knew by now how to hold the tears in, wiping the few traitorous ones that had formed themselves anyway.
A thin trickle of blood left from the right corner of his mouth. He had been working himself up too much. This was not good for his health. He needed to calm down before worse things happened. Deep breath. He needed to calm down. Deep breath. He closed his eyes. Deep breath.
Oh, a dream! That made sense. This was a dream.
(Even though his senses were screaming at him that it was wrong wrong wrong, and his mind was yelling that this is not a dream this is not a dream this is not a dream)
This place was making him feel uneasy however, and he would rather avoid this unpleasant feeling to last until he woke up. So he walked towards one of the doors leaving the room, his steps unconsciously guiding him towards the one that felt the most familiar to him... and ended up in what looked like Tatsumi Port Island. Huh. Well, it is known that dreams take inspiration from real-life memories.
(But this was not a dream, not a dream, and his senses were still screaming that the place was wrong, although it did not feel as wrong as the previous room)
Since this uneasy feeling was not willing to leave him be, he decided to wake himself up. He's had more than enough nightmares to know the routine by now, it was almost as natural to him as breathing air. He'd be up in two seconds.
Or not.
(Because this is not a dream, not a dream, look at this place, look at you, it's real, it's wrong, it's fake, it's not a dream not a dream)
The fog that was clouding his brain finally lifted, and a moment of clarity and dreadful realization hit Ken all at once. He had wrapped himself inside the nice, comfortable thought that this was a dream to not face reality. The truth was, what Igor had said was correct. He had somehow been transported in a weird world in order to "make bonds".
Anger seized him suddenly. Was that a sick joke? He finally had a drive, a motivation, something to push himself forward and cling to the miserable mockery of life he had left, and now he was robbed of even that?! Flung somewhere else, with no end date in sight, to... what? Make friends in Care Bears World? All other people ever felt about him were condescension and pity. Why would he willingly submit himself to such a thing?
He could feel tears well up in his eyes, but he refused to cry. Crying was childish, crying was weak, crying was an invitation to be pitied, or worse, to be taken advantage of. He would not cry. His breath accelerated. He would not cry. He sat down on a sidewalk, back against a wall. He would not cry. He did not cry. He knew by now how to hold the tears in, wiping the few traitorous ones that had formed themselves anyway.
A thin trickle of blood left from the right corner of his mouth. He had been working himself up too much. This was not good for his health. He needed to calm down before worse things happened. Deep breath. He needed to calm down. Deep breath. He closed his eyes. Deep breath.