He dreamt he was drowning in an ocean, tugged about by violent waters. Part of him was aware of the teeth embedded in the nape of his neck, dragging him to something familiar, but the other part of him was lost at sea. But he had been out at sea for so long — too long — and it almost felt as if he was being dragged back to shore by some guardian angel. At any rate, she was white enough. As the world faded in and out of focus, he caught a glimpse of the angel here and there. Angel. The word evoked a strange pain in him. It felt like a familiar word, like a familiar name of an old friend. Angel. He had known an angel, hadn't he? Where was she now... Dark poison flowed through his memory. All at once he felt an unmistakable rush of anger and sorrow, but he shoved it aside. This was a different angel.
After awhile the storm subsided, and the waves were soothed and placated. His head hit the dirt a little roughly. He wondered vaguely while he had stopped moving. Had he come at shore at last? Weakly, the great ginger shadow raised his head to look up at the angel. Things were sort of in focus, and her idenity finally struck him. "<b>Jayse?</b>" he whispered, but his question was suddenly drowned in a heathen melody that made him cringe out of reflex. In an instant, he retreated deeper inside of himself, looking for comfort. God. Where was God? But there was nothing there. Vaguely, Kiche wondered what he was doing. He felt lost. There were no heathens. He was the heathen. "<b>Jayse, I'm sorry,</b>" he whined.
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