WHO: Warren Worthington and open
WHERE: Infirmary.
WHEN: Tonight; after Scott's post and before the vigil.
WARNINGS: None.
SUMMARY: Warren's awake, and able to take a few visitors before going to turn himself in. Tag yourself in and start separate threads for your character if there is more than one of you.
FORMAT: Whatever you guys want. First
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Just like I did.
It's about two in the morning when he knocks on the door. He's wearing civilian clothes, but feels almost naked. Their...their situations were almost eerily similar, when you got right down to it. Peter turned into a giant Spider and possibly killed people, while Warren.
Well.
"It's me. Can I come in?"
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When there is none, he clears his throat and speaks with a hoarse voice.
"Sure."
Spider-Man. One of the greatest super heroes from their universe, and a guy who'd done nothing but help Warren out and be a friend since they were trapped here. It was hard to sit under the gaze of people so good to him when he was like this.
"I hope you're feeling better. I got you pretty bad."
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When he catches sight of Warren, his stomach does a flip, landing somewhere in the back of his rib-cage.
That.
Christ.
"I'll live, man. Relative strengths of a spider and all that, you know?"
He could barely even crack wise.
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Hell, Warren wasn't sure he'd ever be able to pay Spidey back enough.
"Eh, bug or not, I still have to ask. Hell, you shouldn't have had to deal with that crap to start with."
There was that bitter self loathing again, dammit.
"I'm sorry."
It was all he could even think to say. His head was just swimming still, and even now Warren didn't have any way to explain himself.
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"Hey," he says, pointing squarely at Warren. "We're Arachnids. Not bugs. That's a Speciest insult."
Maybe if he keeps everything light, if he focuses on cheering up Warren instead of commiserating, he can push back that crushing sense of...wrongness that seems to be so prevalent.
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Humour wasn't so bad. It dissipated some of the black cloud that had been hanging over the room all night, and Warren did appreciate it. Like Dazzler's calming lights and Penny's empathy, it was all a temporary fix to help take his mind off of the hell that was sure to come.
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Holding onto the mock-anger proved harder than conjuring it up, however. Peter laughed before even three seconds had passed, and shook his head, smiling full-force while he made his way over to Warren.
"Prejudice aside, you feeling better, Warren?"
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"I think the poison's running out of my system still; it's taking longer to heal all..." he waved his hand, gesturing to the cuts and bruises painting his skin. "That bear had one hell of a punch, I can tell you that. I feel like I got hit by a truck."
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He's trying not to be too jovial, since the mood isn't all that alleviated just yet, but, hey. They're getting there.
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Only in their lives. He swore it.
"Is everyone okay though? There were so many people running through there that I couldn't tell if they were friends or enemies or if I'd hurt them, or what."
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"Well," he started, reaching up so he could scratch the back of his neck. "Um."
"Do you want the truth, the whole truth, and nothings but the truth?"
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"No point in holding back. Maybe that makes me a masochist, but I need to know."
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It wouldn't be easy.
"You cut up almost everyone that got too close like you were trying to make sushi out of them. Cable and everyone else got off easy due to hanging back, but I think even that bear had a good chunk or two take out of him from your knife-wings."
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It never got easier.
"I--," don't know what to say? "Those wings, they..."
God.
"I can't believe it. I mean...I can, it's just...shit."
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Pete had been there. He knew what it was like to hurt others when everything in your body screamed at you not to.
"Warren..."
He also knew how much damage constantly blaming yourself about something you couldn't control could cause.
"It wasn't your fault."
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The fear that Death was taking him over was always there. Death did ugly things - slicing large numbers of people to bits - and Death enjoyed it, Joker venom or not. The toxin very well could have been the cause this time, but what about the next time he lost control? Would he still be laughing and grinning then?
"I just don't know what the hell to think anymore. I don't."
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