runaway!clony~ [idk, fic, overly long open whatever, who knows 8D]
To say he was nervous would be the understatement of the century. Nervous didn't begin to cover it, not really, the word or the way it felt to think it; the thick, sharp flood of feeling made no connection with the shape of it. What he felt was a pounding of blood between his ears, heavy and blindingly hard. His chest- everything felt tightly wrapped, somehow. Like a sheet of cellophane pulled taut over his heart while it thumped violently against it. Like it was trying to get out.
How long had he been walking? He didn't know. He hadn't thought to take a watch with him, or even make note of the time when he'd left. He should have done that- but he couldn't read the time, anyway. One thing he could do was put one foot in front of the other, walking, not sure where he was going or why. It felt right. Or at least, it didn't feel wrong. At least not beyond the low level hum of wrong spiking through him with each step further away from home, though he was far enough away now that he wasn't constantly looking over his shoulder.
Exhilarated was another word, one that fitted better. Maybe. He'd never really thought about it before.
He took comfort in the slowly seeping realisation that Outside was big. Really big. Bigger than you could really pick up on from a movie, even with a ridiculously fertile, active imagination like the one he'd inherited from his creator. You could walk forever and not get to the end. The sky went on forever, up and out, and it was cold. He'd never thought about that- everything in his life was set just right, never too hot or cold, dry or humid, and there wasn't anything like the weather. Rain had been nothing like he'd expected, nothing like a shower at all- and now, as darkness settled around him and the clouds broke up and faded out, he stared in open, unbridled awe at the stars and the moon, blinking water out of his eyes where it ran from his sodden hair in thick rivulets. The moon, he decided, was amazing. It looked cold in a way that felt like it should have a taste like the tang of metal, much further away than it ever looked like in the sky of Tony's DVDs. People had been to the moon. Not Tony, Tony had explained, but other people. There was a rocket, and bits that broke off, bits that stayed behind on the moon, because it was actually a place you could walk on, like the ground. It was just so far away it looked about as small as the pad of his thumb.
Transfixed, he squinted, trying to imagine he could see the flag skewered into the ground as evidence that people had been there.
A sudden, violent and uncontrollable shudder knocked him out of his reverie. Cold wasn't good after a while- it settled under his skin somehow, made all the hairs on his bare arms stand up, prickly and sensitive to even the smallest breeze. His lips felt wrong, too and his fingers were dull and slow- it almost hurt to move them. Curiosity would have to wait. Thoughtfully, with a grimace as hugging his arms around himself pressed wet t-shirt against damp skin, he began his search for somewhere to hide.
Somewhere with a big window looking up.
How long had he been walking? He didn't know. He hadn't thought to take a watch with him, or even make note of the time when he'd left. He should have done that- but he couldn't read the time, anyway. One thing he could do was put one foot in front of the other, walking, not sure where he was going or why. It felt right. Or at least, it didn't feel wrong. At least not beyond the low level hum of wrong spiking through him with each step further away from home, though he was far enough away now that he wasn't constantly looking over his shoulder.
Exhilarated was another word, one that fitted better. Maybe. He'd never really thought about it before.
He took comfort in the slowly seeping realisation that Outside was big. Really big. Bigger than you could really pick up on from a movie, even with a ridiculously fertile, active imagination like the one he'd inherited from his creator. You could walk forever and not get to the end. The sky went on forever, up and out, and it was cold. He'd never thought about that- everything in his life was set just right, never too hot or cold, dry or humid, and there wasn't anything like the weather. Rain had been nothing like he'd expected, nothing like a shower at all- and now, as darkness settled around him and the clouds broke up and faded out, he stared in open, unbridled awe at the stars and the moon, blinking water out of his eyes where it ran from his sodden hair in thick rivulets. The moon, he decided, was amazing. It looked cold in a way that felt like it should have a taste like the tang of metal, much further away than it ever looked like in the sky of Tony's DVDs. People had been to the moon. Not Tony, Tony had explained, but other people. There was a rocket, and bits that broke off, bits that stayed behind on the moon, because it was actually a place you could walk on, like the ground. It was just so far away it looked about as small as the pad of his thumb.
Transfixed, he squinted, trying to imagine he could see the flag skewered into the ground as evidence that people had been there.
A sudden, violent and uncontrollable shudder knocked him out of his reverie. Cold wasn't good after a while- it settled under his skin somehow, made all the hairs on his bare arms stand up, prickly and sensitive to even the smallest breeze. His lips felt wrong, too and his fingers were dull and slow- it almost hurt to move them. Curiosity would have to wait. Thoughtfully, with a grimace as hugging his arms around himself pressed wet t-shirt against damp skin, he began his search for somewhere to hide.
Somewhere with a big window looking up.