OOC: [memory 02]
From: behind the scenes in Civil War #6
This time, there's no moment of black. The memory just starts in between one blink and the next. One second, Want is sitting on a bed, looking at Throne and the next, he is lying on a bed, staring up at the ceiling. The room is oddly-shaped: low-ceilings, thin but not very long. There's only really enough space for him to stretch out fully in either direction. The walls look like they're padded, except for the heavy metal door that he can see when he flicks his eyes down his chest. It has a little window at about eye-level; that's the only window in the place.
Want takes very few of these details in during the first few seconds because he is too preoccupied with the other odd things. Like the weird metal thing covering the bottom half of his face. It's huge, encasing his jaw and holding it closed, not painfully tightly, but firm enough that he can't move his teeth apart. It covers his jawline too, all the way up and over his ears, and he can feel something pressed into the centre of each ear, blocking out all sound entirely.
There's a similar sort of contraption wrapping his hands. It looks almost like a big, metal egg which stops at his wrists. Inside, his hands are kept still and unmovable. The inside is well-cushioned, actually, like the inside of the metal mask. Like someone spent a long time trying to make these things as comfortable as possible.
Want's back is aching in a way that indicates to him that he's been lying like that for a long time; everything seems flattened and molded to the bed and almost numb in places. He keeps blinking at the ceiling, staring at one particular point, while frustration and anger bubble in his chest, rising and bursting in his throat futilely. His mind, meanwhile, the part of it that is from the memory itself, is thinking furiously, over and over again, I want to get out of here. I want to get out of here. I want to get out of here. so fast and insistent that Want, the part that is outside of the memory, can feel himself thinking it too.
He's trapped. Now that Want focuses on the feeling, he can feel the claustrophobic crawl of it all over his skin. He can see the scuff marks on the thing encasing his hands, like he maybe tried to bang it off at some point. He can feel the tension and soreness in his jaw from trying to stretch against the cage over his mouth. There's a low-grade buzz of terror in the back of his mind, under the rest of the emotions, desperate and despairing, and Want can't totally tell where it is coming from. It seems to be outside him, and outside the person that he was too. Almost as if it's coming from the place itself and burrowing down into him and settling out over his chest like a blanket that is way too heavy and tucked way too tight.
He is trying to claw away from that feeling, detach himself from it as much as he can, when the cell door in his memory shudders and then slowly draws back to one-side. He looks over, eyes widening in surprise, and pulls himself up into a sitting position, eyeing the doorway warily. Part of him immediately wants to make a run for it, but a bigger part is holding back, waiting to see what will happen before he rushes into things.
The man who enters is dressed in black and yellow spandex, with high winged shoulders and a mask over the top half of his face, its round eyes and antennae making him appear very insect-like. Want has no idea who he is, but he feels a rush of fury anyway, and he struggles to his feet, despite the weight on his hands threatening to drag him down. His teeth clamp together hard of their own freewill, and Want has a second where he is really confused -- conflicted by his sudden anger and by the way this adult stranger is staring at him in surprise and overwhelming relief and... longing? -- before he realizes that the memory-him is getting ready to charge, to swing that stupid metal egg at the man's head.
But the man moves first and before Want can react, he's being pulled into a hug. He goes rigid in shock before his mind can take in the details: the way the man has shrunk, the way his clothes have changed, the way the hand gripping tightly in his hair is sharply and suddenly familiar. It's Throne -- of course it's Throne -- and Want feels his eyes blur for a second and his knees buckle as he sinks against him, relief making him shaky. Throne is speaking, but Want still can't hear a thing, can only feel the breath moving against his skin and then Throne's fingers curve under the mask a little way, and Throne moves back so he can look him in the eye before he jerks hard. The mask jams into the opposite side of Want's face, but it breaks under Throne's fingers and falls away to the floor.
Throne's hands are all over his face a second later and then they're kissing hard, like they haven't in way, way too long. Which seems to Want like it might be exactly the case. Without pulling away, Throne breaks the metal cage around his hands too and mumbles something indistinct but urgent against Want's mouth. Want can't quite make it out, but it's something like "We've got to hurry." He nods shortly in return, and their fingers tangle together for half a second, and then Throne is turning back towards the door, slipping into that stranger's form again, and Want is right behind him.
This time, there's no moment of black. The memory just starts in between one blink and the next. One second, Want is sitting on a bed, looking at Throne and the next, he is lying on a bed, staring up at the ceiling. The room is oddly-shaped: low-ceilings, thin but not very long. There's only really enough space for him to stretch out fully in either direction. The walls look like they're padded, except for the heavy metal door that he can see when he flicks his eyes down his chest. It has a little window at about eye-level; that's the only window in the place.
Want takes very few of these details in during the first few seconds because he is too preoccupied with the other odd things. Like the weird metal thing covering the bottom half of his face. It's huge, encasing his jaw and holding it closed, not painfully tightly, but firm enough that he can't move his teeth apart. It covers his jawline too, all the way up and over his ears, and he can feel something pressed into the centre of each ear, blocking out all sound entirely.
There's a similar sort of contraption wrapping his hands. It looks almost like a big, metal egg which stops at his wrists. Inside, his hands are kept still and unmovable. The inside is well-cushioned, actually, like the inside of the metal mask. Like someone spent a long time trying to make these things as comfortable as possible.
Want's back is aching in a way that indicates to him that he's been lying like that for a long time; everything seems flattened and molded to the bed and almost numb in places. He keeps blinking at the ceiling, staring at one particular point, while frustration and anger bubble in his chest, rising and bursting in his throat futilely. His mind, meanwhile, the part of it that is from the memory itself, is thinking furiously, over and over again, I want to get out of here. I want to get out of here. I want to get out of here. so fast and insistent that Want, the part that is outside of the memory, can feel himself thinking it too.
He's trapped. Now that Want focuses on the feeling, he can feel the claustrophobic crawl of it all over his skin. He can see the scuff marks on the thing encasing his hands, like he maybe tried to bang it off at some point. He can feel the tension and soreness in his jaw from trying to stretch against the cage over his mouth. There's a low-grade buzz of terror in the back of his mind, under the rest of the emotions, desperate and despairing, and Want can't totally tell where it is coming from. It seems to be outside him, and outside the person that he was too. Almost as if it's coming from the place itself and burrowing down into him and settling out over his chest like a blanket that is way too heavy and tucked way too tight.
He is trying to claw away from that feeling, detach himself from it as much as he can, when the cell door in his memory shudders and then slowly draws back to one-side. He looks over, eyes widening in surprise, and pulls himself up into a sitting position, eyeing the doorway warily. Part of him immediately wants to make a run for it, but a bigger part is holding back, waiting to see what will happen before he rushes into things.
The man who enters is dressed in black and yellow spandex, with high winged shoulders and a mask over the top half of his face, its round eyes and antennae making him appear very insect-like. Want has no idea who he is, but he feels a rush of fury anyway, and he struggles to his feet, despite the weight on his hands threatening to drag him down. His teeth clamp together hard of their own freewill, and Want has a second where he is really confused -- conflicted by his sudden anger and by the way this adult stranger is staring at him in surprise and overwhelming relief and... longing? -- before he realizes that the memory-him is getting ready to charge, to swing that stupid metal egg at the man's head.
But the man moves first and before Want can react, he's being pulled into a hug. He goes rigid in shock before his mind can take in the details: the way the man has shrunk, the way his clothes have changed, the way the hand gripping tightly in his hair is sharply and suddenly familiar. It's Throne -- of course it's Throne -- and Want feels his eyes blur for a second and his knees buckle as he sinks against him, relief making him shaky. Throne is speaking, but Want still can't hear a thing, can only feel the breath moving against his skin and then Throne's fingers curve under the mask a little way, and Throne moves back so he can look him in the eye before he jerks hard. The mask jams into the opposite side of Want's face, but it breaks under Throne's fingers and falls away to the floor.
Throne's hands are all over his face a second later and then they're kissing hard, like they haven't in way, way too long. Which seems to Want like it might be exactly the case. Without pulling away, Throne breaks the metal cage around his hands too and mumbles something indistinct but urgent against Want's mouth. Want can't quite make it out, but it's something like "We've got to hurry." He nods shortly in return, and their fingers tangle together for half a second, and then Throne is turning back towards the door, slipping into that stranger's form again, and Want is right behind him.