"Oh, I'm sorry love. Here." He puts on his helmet and steps into place, feeling the conn-pod surge around him and the connections fire up.
3...2...1...
And he's being whipped backwards through his own mind, a dizzying array of memories and thoughts slipping past until he's cradled in a kind of limbo where there is no definite end to him and start to her.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2013-07-17 03:38 pm (UTC)3...2...1...
And he's being whipped backwards through his own mind, a dizzying array of memories and thoughts slipping past until he's cradled in a kind of limbo where there is no definite end to him and start to her.
Now we can talk properly.