[Is it Liem’s determination to cling to his dream that keeps him from surfacing, or his familiarity with violence? This is far from the first time he’s been stabbed or cut, and although shock snaps him out of his motionless trance, it isn’t enough to destroy the illusion that still holds him captive. It may still be dusk inside his head, but in that world he is certainly not in Venera—and he does not want to be. The misery of acknowledging his home’s destruction far outstripped any knife wound he has ever received, and he closes his ears to the words that would force him back into the arms of that agony.
Instead, as the tattered wings about his head and neck shed feathers, he stumbles robotically back, his attempts to gain some distance becoming more focused as the pain in his shoulder mounts. But the world in his head doesn’t overlay the real one exactly; his leg knocks into a protruding bit of statuary, and he tips into the fountain with a splash, continuing to scrabble away from Eustace as he goes.]
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Instead, as the tattered wings about his head and neck shed feathers, he stumbles robotically back, his attempts to gain some distance becoming more focused as the pain in his shoulder mounts. But the world in his head doesn’t overlay the real one exactly; his leg knocks into a protruding bit of statuary, and he tips into the fountain with a splash, continuing to scrabble away from Eustace as he goes.]