[Though Sayori has been buzzing about with worry since they were briefed on this mission, the personal connection to the wrongness of the situation has been somewhat lacking. This anxious buzz has been solely on behalf of her friends, the people she loves who she knows will be shaken to their very core by the nature of this Relic.
7 PM comes. The earth beneath them shakes. Sayori spreads her feet and plants them in the stabilising stance Wash has taught her, but it does little to prevent her from stumbling as the world shudders and the ground in the town square opens up like the unhinged maw of a snake.
Then in a flash, it's over.
At noon, she stands amongst her fellow Reclaimers, being carefully welcomed into Thay. For a moment, it feels normal. And then, slowly, she begins to recognize the words, sinks into the overwhelming disorientation of deja vu.
The memory of a gut-wrenching electronic heartbeat creeps out from the recesses of her mind and begins to drown out the words of the people that surround her. She blinks rapidly, trying to shake off the out-of-body vibe, but when she opens her eyes to take them all in again—
Their faces are Rolands—their faces are Sayoris—Rolands, Sayoris, Rolands, the crunching metal pulse of a program coming to life, the press of something in her throat—
Her face sickly green and dampened with a cold sweat, Sayori doubles over and gags dryly into her hands cupped in front of her mouth, hoping that she won't see tar, praying that she won't see a controller.
And as a friend approaches, she shakes her head and tries to wave it all off with one hand, but she's afraid to try and speak while this nauseous.
...unfortunately, something similar happens at the beginning of every new loop. Like a bad reaction to a dish that once gave you food poisoning, the sensations from Roland's nightmare resurface every time they're flung back.
The second time, Sayori doesn't look nearly as panicked about the occurrence, but still pretty out of sorts.
The third and fourth times, she tries to be smart—tries to grab hold of whoever's standing next to her and steady herself that way.
There's no surprise left in her expression by the fifth time, just weariness as she closes her eyes and sees if cutting out the visual stimulation will help.
And she actually starts to look a little put out by it on the sixth go and onwards.
beginning of any loop ♥ 1 response per loop! [CW: unreality, light emetophobia]
7 PM comes. The earth beneath them shakes. Sayori spreads her feet and plants them in the stabilising stance Wash has taught her, but it does little to prevent her from stumbling as the world shudders and the ground in the town square opens up like the unhinged maw of a snake.
Then in a flash, it's over.
At noon, she stands amongst her fellow Reclaimers, being carefully welcomed into Thay. For a moment, it feels normal. And then, slowly, she begins to recognize the words, sinks into the overwhelming disorientation of deja vu.
The memory of a gut-wrenching electronic heartbeat creeps out from the recesses of her mind and begins to drown out the words of the people that surround her. She blinks rapidly, trying to shake off the out-of-body vibe, but when she opens her eyes to take them all in again—
Their faces are Rolands—their faces are Sayoris—Rolands, Sayoris, Rolands, the crunching metal pulse of a program coming to life, the press of something in her throat—
Her face sickly green and dampened with a cold sweat, Sayori doubles over and gags dryly into her hands cupped in front of her mouth, hoping that she won't see tar, praying that she won't see a controller.
And as a friend approaches, she shakes her head and tries to wave it all off with one hand, but she's afraid to try and speak while this nauseous.
...unfortunately, something similar happens at the beginning of every new loop. Like a bad reaction to a dish that once gave you food poisoning, the sensations from Roland's nightmare resurface every time they're flung back.
The second time, Sayori doesn't look nearly as panicked about the occurrence, but still pretty out of sorts.
The third and fourth times, she tries to be smart—tries to grab hold of whoever's standing next to her and steady herself that way.
There's no surprise left in her expression by the fifth time, just weariness as she closes her eyes and sees if cutting out the visual stimulation will help.
And she actually starts to look a little put out by it on the sixth go and onwards.
Time travel is a nightmare, actually.]