Time passed before his mind awoke. A prickling sensation caressed his skin. Sometimes painfully poking him, and other times stroking him with considerable gentleness. For a moment, it seemed the constant prodding would never end. Stuck inside his mind, he blankly floated. Where am I?
Drip!
Something cold and wet splattered on his cheek. In the next second, he found himself facing the sharp stone columns pointing at his face. His chest heaved, pupils quivering as the memories rushed like a perilous tidal wave. Long silvery lashes trembled as his skin paled ghost-white.
"Don't force it."
A voice he cherished deeply cut through his ears. Moulin's thoughts immediately ceased. Mind, now clear and anticipating. 'Hadrian?'
