Etude 5: Lento Semplice

So I decided to ditch the previous attempt at Etude 5. I like this better. Now it's time for High Adventure in the Dreamscape! Yay! I felt like including more play markings in. If you don't know music, er, just ignore them or something, I guess? (Or you could look them up.)

mezzo piano.

They stood together on a vast, open plain. The sky above had the color and texture of fish scales. The grass below was soft and slightly squishy, resembling uncooked dough in both feel and appearance. Somewhere in the distance were mountains of reddish rock, stabbing at the sky. I've been here before, thought Sarah. I've been chased through here. She looked at Armand, who crouched beside her, clutching his head. She tapped him on the shoulder hesitantly.
"Armand?"
He looked up at her. This time she dodged aside when he threw a punch at her. "Bitch!"
"I don't know what this is! I'm sorry! I've only been here in my dreams!"
Armand glared at her. "So you know how to get out?"
"No, I usually just wake up."
"Great, so all I have to do is figure out how to wake up."
"I think this area is dangerous."
"Even better." He looked as if he were going to try to hit her again, but instead he let his shoulders sag. "Okay. I'm not going to do anything to you until you get us out of here. After that... No guarantees."
"That's fair. I'm really sorry about this. I don't know what's --"
"I don't care about your excuses. Let's get moving." He headed off, towards the mountains.
"Wait!"
He stopped and turned to look at her. "You said this place was dangerous. So I'm getting out of here."
"I think the forest is safer." She pointed in the opposite direction.
He glared at her. "Fine. You lead. That's just fine and dandy with me." His voice dripped with sarcasm.

crescendo.

Armand stomped off towards the forest that Sarah had pointed out. He had no idea where they were. It looked kind of like something out of an acid trip, but he knew it wasn't. And it was all that girl's fault. Sarah. He kicked at the dough-y grass. It collapsed, then sprang back into place. He growled in frustration. The last thing I want do is be somewhere dangerous relying on a twit like her for directions. Which is exactly where I am now. He kicked at the grass again. I don't want to be here. I just want to be back to having a normal life instead of having crazy mists take over my mind and stalk girls. I have my faults, but I am not a stalker. Who would want to stalk her, anyway?
"Armand?"
"What," he growled.
"I think you should stop kicking the grass."
"Why?" He kicked it again. "It's not like there's anything better to kick."
"Stop it!"
And then the grass he'd kicked sprang back up, and started growing. It sprouted into a myriad of tendrils, all flailing and grabbing at him. "Armand!" Oh, very useful, he thought. Scream my name, that's going to help. He tried to kick the grass away, but it had trapped his feet and wrapped around them so tightly he couldn't move.
"Wait!"
"I'm not going anywhere right now, thanks to this crap." The tendrils were still growing, wrapping themselves around his legs and torso.
This time he felt the gathering storm, the tension in the air as thick as molasses. "Stop!" She screamed. And everything stopped.

forte. fermata.

The world held its breath as Sarah stared in shock at the effects of her scream. She could feel the tension in the air, like a string pulled out of place and just waiting to be let go so it could snap back in. The grass was frozen, tendrils held immobile mid-thrash. Armand, too, was frozen, as he had been once before. But I have to help him. This is all my fault that he's here. She gingerly approached the grass. The tension seemed to mount inside her head, but she knew if she released it, time would resume its flow. She grasped a tendril. It was firm now, and seemed heavy. Heavy with time... She tried to pull it away from Armand. It moved slowly, so slowly she wasn't sure it had moved at all. She was soon panting with exhaustion, head throbbing from the effort of maintaining the tension. I can't do it. Not like this. Oww, my head... I've never had headaches this bad before. And then she lost control, and time rushed back to fill the gap.

mezzo forte.

"Don't just stand there, do something!" Armand shouted.
"I'm trying!"
"Try harder!"
And then a memory came, fleeting, back to her, of a dream she'd had once. A dream where she could control the landscape... "Retract! Diminish! Calm!" But her shouts did nothing.
"Useless bitch!" Armand flailed wildly against the tendrils of grass, which were up to his arms.
I'm trying, damn it! I'm trying! Do what I say! And then the building of tension, and the snap-crack release. And the grass suddenly wilted and diminished until it had returned to its original height. And then she could no longer ignore the pounding of her head, and she collapsed.

rest.