counterblows: (϶ my starlight)
𝚊𝚐ε𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚝𝚘𝚗 ([personal profile] counterblows) wrote in [community profile] aftr_ooc 2019-03-08 04:21 am (UTC)

[Heart stop-starts, makes his mouth go dry. That didn't use to happen. He's mentally rewired himself over a period of years, learned to look at the bulk of someone who used to be a teammate - used to be a friend used to be his best - and code that white-and-gold glaze as an enemy. A threat. The thing that would turn around and gut him alive.]

[Memory is a rope, always a rope, and always too tight. Feels like he's two inches away from himself, six inches, and C.T. is in his mind's eye, the crescent of her teeth: wake the fuck up.]

[He wakes the fuck up.]

[He checks whatever he has on hand. Kabar. A few mags. His sidearm. No battle rifle.]


Great. I guess we're supposed to be stuck together. [Speaks higher, straining not to indicate that any part of him is self-destructing in rewind. Some part of him always is. This isn't so different.]

[The care Maine takes to manage his size and height in comparison to Wash is like a knife in the guts.]


Stuck together, no way out. Well...one way out. Maybe.

[He peers down the dark green hallway, veined stone. Feels familiar. Feels like a Trial.]

[Great.]


Which would be forward.

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