08-02-2020, 03:16 AM
(This post was last modified: 08-02-2020, 05:35 PM by Ascendancy.)
Philip grumbled. Why couldn’t he be chased by trucks brimming with cold vanilla coke zero? Why robots that looked like the trash can droid from Star Wars? He shot a glance aside briefly, just to make sure one wasn’t waddling up then. If something was going to spontaneously erupt from his head into this dream, he preferred the aforementioned carbonated beverage.
“I need it because that is the Tiber River, and it tastes like sludge from the bottom of a moat,” he said, pointing back at the water. Even Nimeda swiped the droplets free of her arms. The filth had a way of sticking to the skin that would require a shower when he woke up. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, only to realize the sodden cloth was a poor choice. The frown etched deep, but after a moment, his attire was pristine and dry again. Even the sneakers were quiet as he walked.
When Nimeda joined alongside, he kept his gaze at the level of her eyes. If anything inappropriate lingered beneath her chin, he did not notice it, or else chose to eradicate the instinct to look sheepishly away. His own softened a little as he accepted her presence on the walkway. Inevitably, she mentioned the bedraggled stone around them rising like behemoths of a bad dream.
Rome.
For the penchant toward claustrophobia, the density was nothing like Baltimore. The rich city surrounding them echoed with millennia past. Even now, Philip could sense the toll of time. He longed all his life to come here.
“Don’t you go into cities?” he asked. Her discomfort was palpable, or perhaps it was distaste. She accepted the summer retreat easily enough but rejecting the place he dreamed for the whole of his life stung in a way he did not expect. He was glad to avoid Vatican City, then. He would not be able to bear it if Nimeda found his home repulsive. With a deep breath, any crestfallen glances were stubbornly smothered, but what replaced his countenance was quite turbulent.
“It was a bad dream, is all. This city has existed thousands of years. I have a feeling I will be quite displeased when I wake, and the full meaning is made known to me.”
“I need it because that is the Tiber River, and it tastes like sludge from the bottom of a moat,” he said, pointing back at the water. Even Nimeda swiped the droplets free of her arms. The filth had a way of sticking to the skin that would require a shower when he woke up. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, only to realize the sodden cloth was a poor choice. The frown etched deep, but after a moment, his attire was pristine and dry again. Even the sneakers were quiet as he walked.
When Nimeda joined alongside, he kept his gaze at the level of her eyes. If anything inappropriate lingered beneath her chin, he did not notice it, or else chose to eradicate the instinct to look sheepishly away. His own softened a little as he accepted her presence on the walkway. Inevitably, she mentioned the bedraggled stone around them rising like behemoths of a bad dream.
Rome.
For the penchant toward claustrophobia, the density was nothing like Baltimore. The rich city surrounding them echoed with millennia past. Even now, Philip could sense the toll of time. He longed all his life to come here.
“Don’t you go into cities?” he asked. Her discomfort was palpable, or perhaps it was distaste. She accepted the summer retreat easily enough but rejecting the place he dreamed for the whole of his life stung in a way he did not expect. He was glad to avoid Vatican City, then. He would not be able to bear it if Nimeda found his home repulsive. With a deep breath, any crestfallen glances were stubbornly smothered, but what replaced his countenance was quite turbulent.
“It was a bad dream, is all. This city has existed thousands of years. I have a feeling I will be quite displeased when I wake, and the full meaning is made known to me.”
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