[ It's never the same dream, but maybe it would be easier if it were.
This time, it's a crash. It's the (ship?) shuddering around him, being jostled and smacked around, his head protected by his helmet but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt like a sonuvabitch when he's jerked forward and smashes on the console.
Comms are down, he has no way to contact the others - no idea if they're even on the same planet. They work with long distances so either something's fried internally or they're too far to reach. He's not sure which option is worse, really. He doesn't know who he's trying to contact, but in a dream it doesn't matter. He starts saying names into the comms, hoping someone will answer, correct him and tell him who he's looking for or at least direct him to someone who will but no one answers.
Sometimes, he thinks he gets it. His mouth forms around part of the word, tongue touching the roof of his mouth and it's familiar but it's always gone when he wakes up.
When he does get hailed on the comms, it's none of the ghosts in his head.
Sendak rumbles orders across the comms and he takes them like a good soldier, a quick understood tossed across the line before he closes it out.
On the walk to the ship, he keeps trying to figure the names out. They were important, somehow; he's not sure exactly how or why, but there was some level of importance there and something in his chest aches quietly whenever he thinks about it. From a past life, he thinks, shaking his head. He knows he had one before the Galra; they tell him he used to lead a team and that sounds right. He's good at leading, takes to it naturally whether it's Galra or other people that were part of the Empire. He might not know all the languages but he's learning bits and pieces and that, too, is strange because some of the words come quicker to his tongue than others. He doesn't want to think about the what or the why when it comes to that.
The flight is an easy one and he makes it to the prison ship with minimal difficulty. He breezes past the Sentinels and into the main reception room, where Sendak is facing the security terminal. He goes to his knee and waits to be acknowledged. Sometimes, Sendak makes him wait for long periods of time, just to demonstrate his control over him, and sometimes it's quick but it's because he has other plans. He doesn't have time to deal with petty things like whether or not Sendak is threatened by him or his position in the Empire; he's never been a fan of playing games, he thinks.
They're going to the set of cells for Gladiators, he's told. It's nothing new, he's been there before, having worked his way up from there. He might not remember, but it seems right. The instincts are there, he's able to fight when he has to and has taken down his own fair share of Galra when they were challenging him. Zarkon is pleased with your progress and wants to give you a gift, Sendak says, and for once he doesn't sound like he's sour about this. If anything, he sounds quietly smug and he finds himself hesitating in response, not sure why his skin crawls at the idea of it.
One large hand rests on his head and he tilts it up in response, looking up at Sendak patiently. Whatever Sendak sees in his face seems to please him, because he has him rise and follow him out of there and into the hall to head to where the prisoners are kept. Some of the races of aliens he doesn't recognize, some he does. He's never particularly liked watching the matches, but doesn't often have to. Today's different for some reason, but there's always a point to it even if it's not easily seen at first.
He takes his spot next to Sendak, leaning against the chair idly like he normally does but no, not that this time. Sendak tells him kneel. Another one of the words in Galran that he recognized early without knowing how.
It's a power play of some kind, he supposes, but he doesn't really care. It doesn't have an effect on how he does his job and the point will be revealed soon enough. What is a surprise is the fact that into the ring step two humans, one after the other. He knows better than to react but he does wait a few moments and then glance over at Sendak. Is there a point he asks, turning his attention to the two humans down there. They look familiar, but that doesn't mean much. He obviously knew humans back on earth and it's been so long since he's seen any that any of them no doubt look familiar.
Sendak's hand shifts, rests on his head again and he knows that there's a point to all of this. Maybe it's to show them that they can rise above the ring. If they're here, they've obviously done something worthy of note, but the stands aren't filled entirely so this is private for a reason.
His shoulders tense when Sendak's hand cards through his hair, faux-affectionate. That isn't how they do things and he doesn't know why he's doing it now, but the most that happens is his jaw clenches and he tenses, forcing himself to relax as much as he can because he knows this game, or a variation of it. Do you like them? Sendak asks, and his tone is idle, considering. Nothing he ever asks is without a purpose, though, but this apparently doesn't require a response because a moment later, he continues. They're yours, after the match.
He's not sure what the proper response is to that, so he waits, watching the two of them from where he kneels, frowning faintly. That pang of familiarity isn't going away. ]
trying not to use shiro's name is a fucking mess UGH. also sry about novel & lmk if you want edits
This time, it's a crash. It's the (ship?) shuddering around him, being jostled and smacked around, his head protected by his helmet but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt like a sonuvabitch when he's jerked forward and smashes on the console.
Comms are down, he has no way to contact the others - no idea if they're even on the same planet. They work with long distances so either something's fried internally or they're too far to reach. He's not sure which option is worse, really. He doesn't know who he's trying to contact, but in a dream it doesn't matter. He starts saying names into the comms, hoping someone will answer, correct him and tell him who he's looking for or at least direct him to someone who will but no one answers.
Sometimes, he thinks he gets it. His mouth forms around part of the word, tongue touching the roof of his mouth and it's familiar but it's always gone when he wakes up.
When he does get hailed on the comms, it's none of the ghosts in his head.
Sendak rumbles orders across the comms and he takes them like a good soldier, a quick understood tossed across the line before he closes it out.
On the walk to the ship, he keeps trying to figure the names out. They were important, somehow; he's not sure exactly how or why, but there was some level of importance there and something in his chest aches quietly whenever he thinks about it. From a past life, he thinks, shaking his head. He knows he had one before the Galra; they tell him he used to lead a team and that sounds right. He's good at leading, takes to it naturally whether it's Galra or other people that were part of the Empire. He might not know all the languages but he's learning bits and pieces and that, too, is strange because some of the words come quicker to his tongue than others. He doesn't want to think about the what or the why when it comes to that.
The flight is an easy one and he makes it to the prison ship with minimal difficulty. He breezes past the Sentinels and into the main reception room, where Sendak is facing the security terminal. He goes to his knee and waits to be acknowledged. Sometimes, Sendak makes him wait for long periods of time, just to demonstrate his control over him, and sometimes it's quick but it's because he has other plans. He doesn't have time to deal with petty things like whether or not Sendak is threatened by him or his position in the Empire; he's never been a fan of playing games, he thinks.
They're going to the set of cells for Gladiators, he's told. It's nothing new, he's been there before, having worked his way up from there. He might not remember, but it seems right. The instincts are there, he's able to fight when he has to and has taken down his own fair share of Galra when they were challenging him. Zarkon is pleased with your progress and wants to give you a gift, Sendak says, and for once he doesn't sound like he's sour about this. If anything, he sounds quietly smug and he finds himself hesitating in response, not sure why his skin crawls at the idea of it.
One large hand rests on his head and he tilts it up in response, looking up at Sendak patiently. Whatever Sendak sees in his face seems to please him, because he has him rise and follow him out of there and into the hall to head to where the prisoners are kept. Some of the races of aliens he doesn't recognize, some he does. He's never particularly liked watching the matches, but doesn't often have to. Today's different for some reason, but there's always a point to it even if it's not easily seen at first.
He takes his spot next to Sendak, leaning against the chair idly like he normally does but no, not that this time. Sendak tells him kneel. Another one of the words in Galran that he recognized early without knowing how.
It's a power play of some kind, he supposes, but he doesn't really care. It doesn't have an effect on how he does his job and the point will be revealed soon enough. What is a surprise is the fact that into the ring step two humans, one after the other. He knows better than to react but he does wait a few moments and then glance over at Sendak. Is there a point he asks, turning his attention to the two humans down there. They look familiar, but that doesn't mean much. He obviously knew humans back on earth and it's been so long since he's seen any that any of them no doubt look familiar.
Sendak's hand shifts, rests on his head again and he knows that there's a point to all of this. Maybe it's to show them that they can rise above the ring. If they're here, they've obviously done something worthy of note, but the stands aren't filled entirely so this is private for a reason.
His shoulders tense when Sendak's hand cards through his hair, faux-affectionate. That isn't how they do things and he doesn't know why he's doing it now, but the most that happens is his jaw clenches and he tenses, forcing himself to relax as much as he can because he knows this game, or a variation of it. Do you like them? Sendak asks, and his tone is idle, considering. Nothing he ever asks is without a purpose, though, but this apparently doesn't require a response because a moment later, he continues. They're yours, after the match.
He's not sure what the proper response is to that, so he waits, watching the two of them from where he kneels, frowning faintly. That pang of familiarity isn't going away. ]