counterblows: (϶ it feels like fourteen carats)
𝚊𝚐ε𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚝𝚘𝚗 ([personal profile] counterblows) wrote in [community profile] aftr_ooc 2019-03-09 02:09 am (UTC)

[Guilt sits heavy in his guts, but that's not new, where Maine is concerned. Guilt was a slow burn, bile-hot, in a quiet observation about headaches from a distance, in a retroactive realization that somewhere along the way they'd lost a friend and teammate and no one had even noticed the precise moment where he stopped being who he was.]

[So he'll stomach a little more guilt. He can handle it.]

[What's one more weight on his shoulders, right.]

[Don't stiffen, don't panic, don't lose your footing, do not indicate in any way that this kind of camaraderie is unusual or resurrecting memories long dead (as always) or that his instinct to whip around and try and put a knife in the meat of Maine's upper shoulder slams up against his ribcage with the stop-start of his heart (what are you some fucking animal) and he breathes out instead.]

[This tension is normal. They're still figuring out their bearings. It's an unfamiliar situation. Of course they'd be tense. Anyone would be tense.]


Yeah. Yeah, we'll figure it out.

[He squints just ahead, bracing himself for something unpleasant to be in their way.]

[But, no. It's just a pair of depressible buttons set in the floor, stone, spaced apart relatively evenly.]


That's...weird.

Post a comment in response:

This account has disabled anonymous posting.
If you don't have an account you can create one now.
HTML doesn't work in the subject.
More info about formatting