Scott Summers (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
no_rose_tint) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
taxonomites2012-09-25 12:03 pm
no_rose_tint) wrote in taxonomites2012-09-25 12:03 pm
Entry tags:
In Person [location: Taxon Forest Cliffs]
Scott’s marker comes back onto the map with as much pomp and circumstance as it vanished.
More strangely, his tablet doesn’t join him instantly to broadcast his misfortune. It appears nearby, resting on a tree stump out of the way, but whereas usually it delights in showcasing these moments, it remains quiet now, when perhaps he needs it most.
Five days is a long time where he’s been. He’s pale and drawn, deprived of sunlight and enough food and water. He has dark circles around his eyes, a mixture of exhaustion and bruising.
There’s no awareness of being moved again. He’s simply regaining consciousness and feeling grass and dirt rather than the metal and stone of where he’s been held, a deep ache in his head and uncomfortable pressure in his eyes.
Slowly, he reaches up, feeling over his face and flinching as his fingers poke sore skin and no visor. He has to risk it anyway, bringing his hands to his face, fingers white knuckle laced as he flickers his eyes open.
Nothing.
No light. Not in or out. No warmth over his hands.
He opens them again, fully, but nothing reaches outwards. Nothing explodes, nothing is rent apart.
Everything is dark.
He can’t see.
He snaps his head up, eyes wide and unseeing, a solid, lightless red covering them from side to side.
More strangely, his tablet doesn’t join him instantly to broadcast his misfortune. It appears nearby, resting on a tree stump out of the way, but whereas usually it delights in showcasing these moments, it remains quiet now, when perhaps he needs it most.
Five days is a long time where he’s been. He’s pale and drawn, deprived of sunlight and enough food and water. He has dark circles around his eyes, a mixture of exhaustion and bruising.
There’s no awareness of being moved again. He’s simply regaining consciousness and feeling grass and dirt rather than the metal and stone of where he’s been held, a deep ache in his head and uncomfortable pressure in his eyes.
Slowly, he reaches up, feeling over his face and flinching as his fingers poke sore skin and no visor. He has to risk it anyway, bringing his hands to his face, fingers white knuckle laced as he flickers his eyes open.
Nothing.
No light. Not in or out. No warmth over his hands.
He opens them again, fully, but nothing reaches outwards. Nothing explodes, nothing is rent apart.
Everything is dark.
He can’t see.
He snaps his head up, eyes wide and unseeing, a solid, lightless red covering them from side to side.
Re: [audio]
"And it makes you sound guilty, though I still know you're not. You'd kill me, but you wouldn't do this to me. Even if you could."
[audio]
Logan's never in much of a state to censor his speech. But he can switch gears when he has to. Not goddamn productive.
"So you think Sinister might be here, pullin' something?"
Re: [audio]
He had, for a moment, forgotten who this man was. Not the Logan he knows. Not a close friend, not a loyal ally. He's declared Scott the enemy, that makes him anything but an ally, even in Taxon.
And it probably speaks volumes of Scott's inability to cope right now that he just hung up on Logan.
[audio]
Guy's blinded and messed up. Shouldn'ta blurted.
Grnn.
Better to start focus on Marauder-huntin'.