[reaction] I/II l_shruggedJanuary 3 2011, 22:22:59 UTC
[The burning in his shoulders, coiling around and around the socket, tickling, prodding, begging that you sink your fingers through flesh to itch it and smooth out the wrinkles of tension. Worse yet, his hands are idle yet bound, fingers bending inwards and digging tips into his palms. It’s frustrating, and those familiar unfamiliar sensations that are not solely your own threaten to overwhelm. Inhales the chilly air, lungs almost languid in performing the task, and you recognize that sensation.
There is some panic, that perhaps he - no, those aren’t his thoughts, but - The visual of the two men heading the plane and he strains to identify his thoughts among the mixture of aggravation, fear and determination. And it’s too hard, exhausting, or perhaps that is the result of the struggling.
He.
Who is he?
An attractive face, first, brown hair and caramel-toned hues; it dissolves into a younger face, hues duller and expression less intimidating, and the very foreign name breeds such recognition that he almost sinks completely into this world of red carpets and golden trim.]
Ngh…
[And despite everything, panic that he wasn’t sure was his own, there was a degree of calm, painting his struggle for speech and breath, his movements and thoughts. But his thoughts were so very convoluted as well. The paradoxes riddled with paradoxes and the sensations were so very familiar, but familiar in the sense that he simply could not grasp the why, how and when. And who.
Britannia.
Suzaku.
Charles zi Britannia.
The names comes smoothly, as though as well-known as Kira, and yet the knowledge, the specifics, slip through the cracks and leave him feeling all the more hollow. Thinking he feels hollow. Cold. Dry-mouthed. He swallows before considering the action and it seems as though he were a puppet, merely controlling the focus of his vision and nothing more. Even the muscle spasms and whirl of thoughts clash with his usual approach and it’s almost mind-shreddng.
Dragging. The barest tingle of burning and the copper provokes bitter expression that may or may not be his own. And he knows, thinks he knows, that this isn’t him - this is just something that will - It passes quickly, the stream of though, because the foreign ones invasively prod deeply into center stage and demand full attention.
There is some panic, that perhaps he - no, those aren’t his thoughts, but - The visual of the two men heading the plane and he strains to identify his thoughts among the mixture of aggravation, fear and determination. And it’s too hard, exhausting, or perhaps that is the result of the struggling.
He.
Who is he?
An attractive face, first, brown hair and caramel-toned hues; it dissolves into a younger face, hues duller and expression less intimidating, and the very foreign name breeds such recognition that he almost sinks completely into this world of red carpets and golden trim.]
Ngh…
[And despite everything, panic that he wasn’t sure was his own, there was a degree of calm, painting his struggle for speech and breath, his movements and thoughts. But his thoughts were so very convoluted as well. The paradoxes riddled with paradoxes and the sensations were so very familiar, but familiar in the sense that he simply could not grasp the why, how and when. And who.
Britannia.
Suzaku.
Charles zi Britannia.
The names comes smoothly, as though as well-known as Kira, and yet the knowledge, the specifics, slip through the cracks and leave him feeling all the more hollow. Thinking he feels hollow. Cold. Dry-mouthed. He swallows before considering the action and it seems as though he were a puppet, merely controlling the focus of his vision and nothing more. Even the muscle spasms and whirl of thoughts clash with his usual approach and it’s almost mind-shreddng.
Dragging. The barest tingle of burning and the copper provokes bitter expression that may or may not be his own. And he knows, thinks he knows, that this isn’t him - this is just something that will - It passes quickly, the stream of though, because the foreign ones invasively prod deeply into center stage and demand full attention.
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