(no subject)
Conan felt fear. Despite how it looks most of the time, it's rare he isn't terrified of a dangerous situation. Be it a psychotic killer, a bomb about to explode, an impending collision, he was ALWAYS scared.
However, like with a great deal of his emotions when faced with the darker moments that plagued his life, he bottled them up and shoved them deep down inside himself and ignored them completely until he was done with what he had to do. And usually with the crisis averted, those emotions simply dissipated and he was normal again.
It was more or less the same when it was someone he cared about that was in danger. However, it was just the fear he bottled up and a good chunk of rage to keep a rational mind. Worry, a reasonable amount of anger, determination, he let all of that out so he did what he had to do and did it so there was no room for error. Or...hopefully, anyway.
It wasn't really a conscious thing anymore. It's just how he was after all the cases, all the danger.
It was a testament to how terrifying the Black Organization was when his fear would show when he dealt with them, but even then, he could usually ball it up when others are around.
He could deal with danger. He could repress his fear. He could keep control of himself in any situation through the power of his mind. It was because of that that in almost any situation, he could keep control of it. Or enough control, anyway.
...but that wasn't the case with the Angels.
At first, they were creepy, but that was easy enough to handle. He could stare down most any criminal. It wasn't hard for him to have a staring contest, even if he would eventually lose against a rock. He could DEAL with it though. He could DEAL with having to stare at something so he didn't die.
Then it got into his head.
And suddenly that ability to repress everything as need be was stripped away. He could make himself appear calm, but it wasn't the same. He felt the fear. He felt it eating away at his mind. Not only that, he FELT the Angel there.
He couldn't justify it. The Angel was there. He felt it coming. He felt it manipulate his thoughts. He felt it trying to take away his life. He'd been on the verge of death enough to know what it felt like. It was the same during his transformations, when his body chooses to change instead of shut down. When he almost bled to death from a bullet wound. When he's almost suffocated. When he watches a timer tick down.
Physically, it could be different, and he couldn't explain what the feeling was. Perhaps he knew death too well and could just sense it. He did then, as he felt his body start to shut down. Death had been coming. There was no doubt.
All he could do to save himself was close his eyes and make himself vulnerable. Completely and utterly vulnerable to the Angels. Vulnerable to anything. He depended a lot on his sight a lot. He knew how to use his others senses, but it was his eyes he depended the most on. Giving up his sight was dangerous enough normally, but in such a situation...
It was no surprise he had to ultimately depend on someone else. It was the only way to survive in that situation.
He hated that. Every danger, every threat, he could still see. And when he saw, he could find a way out. He could think of a way to escape.
And it was against the Angels that not only did he lose his sight, even when he had his eyes closed, his mind was only partially his own. No control. No true means to fight.
It had been like he was...was...
A child. Unable to think and be certain what he said and felt were his own words and only able to survive due to another's protection.
Conan would face down anything. A psychotic killer, a gun, a bomb, a criminal Organization. He would face anything without flinching or showing a bit of fear.
But he knew if he ever met an Angel again...he would run. And he would run in fear.
However, like with a great deal of his emotions when faced with the darker moments that plagued his life, he bottled them up and shoved them deep down inside himself and ignored them completely until he was done with what he had to do. And usually with the crisis averted, those emotions simply dissipated and he was normal again.
It was more or less the same when it was someone he cared about that was in danger. However, it was just the fear he bottled up and a good chunk of rage to keep a rational mind. Worry, a reasonable amount of anger, determination, he let all of that out so he did what he had to do and did it so there was no room for error. Or...hopefully, anyway.
It wasn't really a conscious thing anymore. It's just how he was after all the cases, all the danger.
It was a testament to how terrifying the Black Organization was when his fear would show when he dealt with them, but even then, he could usually ball it up when others are around.
He could deal with danger. He could repress his fear. He could keep control of himself in any situation through the power of his mind. It was because of that that in almost any situation, he could keep control of it. Or enough control, anyway.
...but that wasn't the case with the Angels.
At first, they were creepy, but that was easy enough to handle. He could stare down most any criminal. It wasn't hard for him to have a staring contest, even if he would eventually lose against a rock. He could DEAL with it though. He could DEAL with having to stare at something so he didn't die.
Then it got into his head.
And suddenly that ability to repress everything as need be was stripped away. He could make himself appear calm, but it wasn't the same. He felt the fear. He felt it eating away at his mind. Not only that, he FELT the Angel there.
He couldn't justify it. The Angel was there. He felt it coming. He felt it manipulate his thoughts. He felt it trying to take away his life. He'd been on the verge of death enough to know what it felt like. It was the same during his transformations, when his body chooses to change instead of shut down. When he almost bled to death from a bullet wound. When he's almost suffocated. When he watches a timer tick down.
Physically, it could be different, and he couldn't explain what the feeling was. Perhaps he knew death too well and could just sense it. He did then, as he felt his body start to shut down. Death had been coming. There was no doubt.
All he could do to save himself was close his eyes and make himself vulnerable. Completely and utterly vulnerable to the Angels. Vulnerable to anything. He depended a lot on his sight a lot. He knew how to use his others senses, but it was his eyes he depended the most on. Giving up his sight was dangerous enough normally, but in such a situation...
It was no surprise he had to ultimately depend on someone else. It was the only way to survive in that situation.
He hated that. Every danger, every threat, he could still see. And when he saw, he could find a way out. He could think of a way to escape.
And it was against the Angels that not only did he lose his sight, even when he had his eyes closed, his mind was only partially his own. No control. No true means to fight.
It had been like he was...was...
A child. Unable to think and be certain what he said and felt were his own words and only able to survive due to another's protection.
Conan would face down anything. A psychotic killer, a gun, a bomb, a criminal Organization. He would face anything without flinching or showing a bit of fear.
But he knew if he ever met an Angel again...he would run. And he would run in fear.