((Thanks to @Six-O for suggesting the idea and helping with this a lot.))
I have not been able to see the normal way ever since that reactor went nova on Omega. I do not see faces or facial expressions anymore. Instead, I see auras and shapes. Things like machines are hard to perceive. I can see through walls. I cannot read text unless it's in braille. I don't really know what many of my friends actually look like. And there are people where I used to know, but am starting to forget.
In my dreams and visions...I can actually see. But it's gotten harder over time. Things get blurry. This time..it is different. I do not see. I hear, feel and taste. There's death all around me. Everything is bloody and chaotic, yet so clear. The cries of war can be heard in every direction. The stroke of the unsettling wind blows over and above me by the sudden blast of an explosive. Grit and muck paints my face and violently rustles my hair.
I feel the sensation of my bare feet as I step in blood drenched mud. I see nothing, but know exactly where I must slog forward. I hear the call signs of soldiers being shouted across the battlefield, only to be drowned out by the staccato of slugthrowers, the hum of lightsabres and whine of blasters. I hear steel clash with steel. The earth trembles as bombs fall. Nature's agony can be felt through the Force. I stumble and fall as the ground shakes. My hand touches something very soft and comes back covered in sticky blood.
There is so much death and agony. It rings like the cry of demons and banshees. Utter anguish. But I cannot pull away. There is the sudden stab of heat, as hot ozone of a discharged blaster bolt rips narrowly past my face. So close that I can feel the heat. My eyes are wide and blind to all that's going on. But what my eyes cannot see, my mind cannot pull away from. It does not allow me to be look away. To blot the mayhem out.
All around me, men and women are being slaughtered. They fall to slugs, they are ripped apart by explosions or are cut down in melee. I raise my voice. I try to shout. Nothing comes out. They do not hear. I hear them. Thunder boombs overhead. Lightning strikes and men are electrocuted. A thousand voices shout, scream and howl. They speak in Basic, Zandri, Dahomian, Xio and in dozens of other languages I cannot place.
Rain pours down from the sky. I'm soaked. I hear the cries of the wounded before they are silenced forever. Tanks rumble across the battlefield, accompanied by thundering steps of Cataphracts in power armour. Each time their cannons fire, it sounds like thunder. Each shot is like a fist to the ear. A dropship taking off, full of wounded judging from the noise, is ripped apart by an explosion. Gunships roar through the air. Tanks go up in smoke. Dust, fire and smoke rises up, filling the air. I struggle to breathe.
Amidst the roar of automatic weapons, I hear the cries of children. Younglings. They charge. Driven into battle by madme. I can taste their fear and terror...but they have no choice. I try to scream. To use the Force. To do...Something. It's all futile. They charge to their deaths – and die. I feel everything. The taste of the mud and blood covered soil beneath my feet, the coppery taste of blood on my lips. The smell of smoke that chokes me and burns me to my very soul. The shouts of squads, the buzz of comm-traffic, the roar of engines that make me tremble from my head all the way to my sinking feet.
A thousand broken bodies are strewn across the battlefield. The stink of death floods my nose. So strong I feel sick. I am knee-deep in blood. I smell the blood. I taste it. The guns have fallen silent. I wake up in my my bed, covered in cold sweat, trembling.
I have not been able to see the normal way ever since that reactor went nova on Omega. I do not see faces or facial expressions anymore. Instead, I see auras and shapes. Things like machines are hard to perceive. I can see through walls. I cannot read text unless it's in braille. I don't really know what many of my friends actually look like. And there are people where I used to know, but am starting to forget.
In my dreams and visions...I can actually see. But it's gotten harder over time. Things get blurry. This time..it is different. I do not see. I hear, feel and taste. There's death all around me. Everything is bloody and chaotic, yet so clear. The cries of war can be heard in every direction. The stroke of the unsettling wind blows over and above me by the sudden blast of an explosive. Grit and muck paints my face and violently rustles my hair.
I feel the sensation of my bare feet as I step in blood drenched mud. I see nothing, but know exactly where I must slog forward. I hear the call signs of soldiers being shouted across the battlefield, only to be drowned out by the staccato of slugthrowers, the hum of lightsabres and whine of blasters. I hear steel clash with steel. The earth trembles as bombs fall. Nature's agony can be felt through the Force. I stumble and fall as the ground shakes. My hand touches something very soft and comes back covered in sticky blood.
There is so much death and agony. It rings like the cry of demons and banshees. Utter anguish. But I cannot pull away. There is the sudden stab of heat, as hot ozone of a discharged blaster bolt rips narrowly past my face. So close that I can feel the heat. My eyes are wide and blind to all that's going on. But what my eyes cannot see, my mind cannot pull away from. It does not allow me to be look away. To blot the mayhem out.
All around me, men and women are being slaughtered. They fall to slugs, they are ripped apart by explosions or are cut down in melee. I raise my voice. I try to shout. Nothing comes out. They do not hear. I hear them. Thunder boombs overhead. Lightning strikes and men are electrocuted. A thousand voices shout, scream and howl. They speak in Basic, Zandri, Dahomian, Xio and in dozens of other languages I cannot place.
Rain pours down from the sky. I'm soaked. I hear the cries of the wounded before they are silenced forever. Tanks rumble across the battlefield, accompanied by thundering steps of Cataphracts in power armour. Each time their cannons fire, it sounds like thunder. Each shot is like a fist to the ear. A dropship taking off, full of wounded judging from the noise, is ripped apart by an explosion. Gunships roar through the air. Tanks go up in smoke. Dust, fire and smoke rises up, filling the air. I struggle to breathe.
Amidst the roar of automatic weapons, I hear the cries of children. Younglings. They charge. Driven into battle by madme. I can taste their fear and terror...but they have no choice. I try to scream. To use the Force. To do...Something. It's all futile. They charge to their deaths – and die. I feel everything. The taste of the mud and blood covered soil beneath my feet, the coppery taste of blood on my lips. The smell of smoke that chokes me and burns me to my very soul. The shouts of squads, the buzz of comm-traffic, the roar of engines that make me tremble from my head all the way to my sinking feet.
A thousand broken bodies are strewn across the battlefield. The stink of death floods my nose. So strong I feel sick. I am knee-deep in blood. I smell the blood. I taste it. The guns have fallen silent. I wake up in my my bed, covered in cold sweat, trembling.
