Silent Hill AU [Continuation]
Title: The Memories Obscured [Your Silent Tomb] 2 / ?
Fandom: X-Men First Class
Pairing/Characters: Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier, Raven Darkholme, Emma Frost, Hank McCoy, Alex Summers, Sean Cassidy, Sebastian Shaw, others.
Rating: NC-17
Content: Silent Hill AU
Word count: 2040
Warnings: Major character death (in the past), detailed description of violence, abusive themes, mind-fuckery.
Summary: The last time Erik had seen Charles, his eyes were closed, never to open again. Charles Francis Xavier had died. But on March 16th, Erik had received a letter that had sent everything -every last hope of peace that he had desperately clung to- to the deepest pits of hell. A letter from Charles, beckoning him to come- come to Silent Hill.
Part II
[Beckoning Chime]
It’s unnerving -the way Erik was walking further away from his car and deeper into the fog, feeling completely at ease all of a sudden. His mind was a calm breeze, but his heart was pounding against his ribs, with a promise to escape the boundaries of his chest, while his body was completely on its own. Something beckoned him, or someone, he was not sure- Silent Hill welcoming him.
One step, two and three- and he came to an abrupt stop with a pained growl, when something in his chest began to hurt- a sharp pain, as if needles were piercing his heart over and over, in short, ruthless thrusts. He had to slow his pace, and eventually stop -his breath coming out in ragged puffs- the pain was devastating.
He had abandoned his car, taking only the most valuable things from there- the letter and the photo of smiling Charles- smiling and happy and thrilled to be here, of all of the places on Earth, he was thrilled to be in Silent Hill. And Erik was thrilled for a whole different reason entirely, when he took that picture. After all, they came here with a great purpose- to find others like themselves- and one of them was supposed to be in Silent Hill. They never did find him, strange as it may be, but they did find something completely different and new. Something they had felt from the very beginning of their encounter in the cold ocean waters- and the heat from that moment became a hellish flame that set everything ablaze. It was a horrid downpour, their clothes became soaked in a few seconds, before they even reached their car and then everything revealed itself, the leather seats having turned into involuntary witnesses of moans and curious hands and demanding mouths. And Charles complained afterwards in a hotel room about little blue bruises here and there from bumping into various parts of the car, but the complaining came to a sudden stop- Erik shutting him up with a kiss and pushing him down on the bed. That night they had barely any sleep at all.
Erik cursed, the memory of their very first time was forever imprinted in his mind and soul and now, when he stood in the dense fog, bent almost in two from the unknown pain, he found it hard to even look at the car that stood a couple of feet away. He cursed again.
____________
He could not pinpoint the exact time when he was able to straighten up again, really. It seemed like an eternity to him and a hideous little thought of ‘am I going to die here?’ crept its way into his head. Likely enough, the pain subsided -for a small amount, at least- and he could resume his search. Search for what, exactly? Since when did you begin to cling so desperately to an illusion of Charles being here -alive and well? His mind was great at sowing doubts, and if he had a chance to punch something right now, it would surely be his brain. Not like it would help.
The fog was not set on lifting anytime soon it seemed, so Erik was not that much surprised when he did not spot a couple of buildings as he passed them. He did stop a few minutes later and checked his surroundings, to confirm that he was not seeing things. It’s a relief that he was not. Silent Hill sprawled before him and it didn’t change from his -their- last visit, the same streets and small old buildings. A secluded, rural town that was filled with so many emotions and memories was now dreadfully quiet. And it’s uncharacteristically cold even for early spring; he can feel the goose bumps popping up on his skin. The lack of any sort of life on the streets had set an alarm off in his head, something was not right. Rural or not, there should be people on the streets or in the shops; he passed a few- all of them shut and some even boarded up. What happened to this place? Not to mention all that fog which made the city feel eerie.
All of his musings were instantly silenced by the sound of footsteps not far from where he was. He could have sworn he had heard footsteps. He increased his pace, going around the corner of the old barber shop, and stopped- an iron fence was in his way. Too high to climb and there was no use tearing it down with his powers, he hadn’t found any need in damaging anything yet. There was a little hole though, and as the footsteps did not subside, he decided to peek in. He could feel his heart going numb; he could not believe his eyes. In the fog there was a man, he needn’t any special sort of powers to make out the stature, or the posture- even his cardigan was the same as-
“Charles!” Erik heard himself screaming out to the man and before he could even understand what was going on, the fence was bending and twisting into something unrecognizable. It didn’t give in as fast as he hoped it would, the hinges were too sturdy. When what’s left of the fence fell, clearing a path, the man was way ahead, and barely, just barely visible in that thick fog. He did not remember the last time he had run so fast.
Running fast didn’t do much good, he lost the man. He was so angry at himself that he did not even notice that he stepped on something, realizing it only when a -crunch- sound came from under his foot. Whatever it was, it was now in pieces and from what Erik could tell it was something in a very small bag. Opening it revealed a little bottle, and Erik had gone pale- the little bottle with sand, the one Erik had given Charles, the sand from the Cuban beach. The very same beach where he had killed Shaw and had nearly murdered thousands of men, blinded by his hatred- but Charles had stopped him that day and he had stayed. They returned to that beach after some time, after all, they did have to retrieve their equipment -broken or not- and Charles did an outstanding job at making the military men, who were there, ignore their presence. And before leaving, as a token of unendless gratitude for what Charles did, how he managed to keep their return a secret and save the people, no- save Erik- this little bottle of sand was a memento of what they’d been through and what they’d become now- better men. Charles had smiled and Erik could’ve sworn that he had seen a little tear in the corners of those eyes.
The man in the fog -the Charles look-alike- he had to find him, now.
____________
Easier said than done; Erik had been wondering the streets for unknown amount of time, literally unknown, his wristwatch had stopped at precisely 11:23, not to mention that he didn’t find any sort of clock on the streets, which was odd, but he did remember there was a huge clock near the police station. But the idea to go there was as good as no idea at all- he was lost anyway. They hadn’t spent that much time wondering the streets when they last were here; they were preoccupied with far more vital things.
He sighed, a soft little sound; he had to stop again- the pain was still there, nudging him, reminding him constantly of its presence, although it was not as persistent as it was before. Not to mention his split brow, the bleeding had stopped, but it was still there. All that became a far away thought the very moment the earth shook beneath his feet, a slight, but clearly felt tremor. And then another, a more powerful one that made Erik lose his balance for a moment. He didn’t have a chance to blink- the siren began its deafening howl, out of nowhere, making him sick and disoriented all at once. He had never heard anything like it, it was no ordinary siren, and the feeling, the anxious feeling that he felt bone-deep was not leaving, something was coming, something that he was not sure he would like to see and -dear god-
Panic was building, faster than anything, like water that breached the damp- everything was changing right before his eyes, it’s becoming dark, pitch-black darkness substituting the fog, and he can’t see a thing. Nothing. He hurriedly reached for his pockets, there had to be a matchbox there, it just had to be. His fingers searched fervently and he began to curse the too deep pockets and there- the precious little box was within his reach. He took it out and tried to light a match as quickly as it was even possible for a human being, but failed- the match falling to ground- he let it fall when he heard a chime. A sublime sound, his mind illuminating his consciousness with the images of the wind chimes, delicate sound to his ears and Charles sitting on the window sill, all of his attention focused on the book in his hand, soft wind dancing in his hair; he looked up to meet Erik’s eyes, smiling -and the illusion fell. He is back, face to face with nothing but darkness and he tried to light the match again, but stopped- his hands freezing their movement- a light. A weak, barely visible light that was shimmering up ahead through all of this blackness: a light of hope, of guidance? He doesn’t have much of a choice but to head towards that glow.
____________
It’s long, the road to the light was so long, and it felt like he was walking forever. It’s cold and dark; he doesn’t want to light the very last match he had, so he chose to go in blind. His legs were about to give away when he stumbled over something and fell flat on the ground, somewhere in the back of his mind, a tiny little voice was thankful for the opportunity to have a stop, even if it meant getting it this way.
He had landed on something, something sticky- mud? He had to check, so he ran his hand over the ground, although he cannot see at the moment, nobody had robbed him of the ability to smell. He bolted to his feet in an instant; he would recognize that smell without any doubt, the reeking smell of blood. Last match or no, he had to see and prove himself wrong.
The weak light from the match illuminated the scene beneath his feet and he regretted lightening it in the first place. It was repulsive, his stomach clenching painfully at the sight. He’s not a doctor, not close, but he is more than sure that whatever the hell lay at his feet was dead and it’s good that it is- its neck twisted at the very wrong angle and the skin was peeled off in several places and its knees seem to be twisted inward- and it’s swimming in its own blood. Whoever did this was a monster.
He had to look away, the gruesome mess in front of him was not helping subside the sickening feeling that was building up in his gut. The match went out, so as carefully as it was even possible he stepped over it and continued his way towards the beckoning light. One step, two- he yelped -an involuntarily reaction- his foot being caught in something, trying to drag him back and the moan he heard behind him was nothing a human can produce. All of a sudden he can feel it everywhere -entwining around his arms and legs and neck, along with a vile smell and sounds beyond any belief, he struggled with all his might, but alas, in vain. All he could see, before he’s consumed by the darkness, before his eyes fall shut, was Charles sitting in the window sill and smiling at him- he no longer heard the chime.
Fandom: X-Men First Class
Pairing/Characters: Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier, Raven Darkholme, Emma Frost, Hank McCoy, Alex Summers, Sean Cassidy, Sebastian Shaw, others.
Rating: NC-17
Content: Silent Hill AU
Word count: 2040
Warnings: Major character death (in the past), detailed description of violence, abusive themes, mind-fuckery.
Summary: The last time Erik had seen Charles, his eyes were closed, never to open again. Charles Francis Xavier had died. But on March 16th, Erik had received a letter that had sent everything -every last hope of peace that he had desperately clung to- to the deepest pits of hell. A letter from Charles, beckoning him to come- come to Silent Hill.
Part II
[Beckoning Chime]
It’s unnerving -the way Erik was walking further away from his car and deeper into the fog, feeling completely at ease all of a sudden. His mind was a calm breeze, but his heart was pounding against his ribs, with a promise to escape the boundaries of his chest, while his body was completely on its own. Something beckoned him, or someone, he was not sure- Silent Hill welcoming him.
One step, two and three- and he came to an abrupt stop with a pained growl, when something in his chest began to hurt- a sharp pain, as if needles were piercing his heart over and over, in short, ruthless thrusts. He had to slow his pace, and eventually stop -his breath coming out in ragged puffs- the pain was devastating.
He had abandoned his car, taking only the most valuable things from there- the letter and the photo of smiling Charles- smiling and happy and thrilled to be here, of all of the places on Earth, he was thrilled to be in Silent Hill. And Erik was thrilled for a whole different reason entirely, when he took that picture. After all, they came here with a great purpose- to find others like themselves- and one of them was supposed to be in Silent Hill. They never did find him, strange as it may be, but they did find something completely different and new. Something they had felt from the very beginning of their encounter in the cold ocean waters- and the heat from that moment became a hellish flame that set everything ablaze. It was a horrid downpour, their clothes became soaked in a few seconds, before they even reached their car and then everything revealed itself, the leather seats having turned into involuntary witnesses of moans and curious hands and demanding mouths. And Charles complained afterwards in a hotel room about little blue bruises here and there from bumping into various parts of the car, but the complaining came to a sudden stop- Erik shutting him up with a kiss and pushing him down on the bed. That night they had barely any sleep at all.
Erik cursed, the memory of their very first time was forever imprinted in his mind and soul and now, when he stood in the dense fog, bent almost in two from the unknown pain, he found it hard to even look at the car that stood a couple of feet away. He cursed again.
____________
He could not pinpoint the exact time when he was able to straighten up again, really. It seemed like an eternity to him and a hideous little thought of ‘am I going to die here?’ crept its way into his head. Likely enough, the pain subsided -for a small amount, at least- and he could resume his search. Search for what, exactly? Since when did you begin to cling so desperately to an illusion of Charles being here -alive and well? His mind was great at sowing doubts, and if he had a chance to punch something right now, it would surely be his brain. Not like it would help.
The fog was not set on lifting anytime soon it seemed, so Erik was not that much surprised when he did not spot a couple of buildings as he passed them. He did stop a few minutes later and checked his surroundings, to confirm that he was not seeing things. It’s a relief that he was not. Silent Hill sprawled before him and it didn’t change from his -their- last visit, the same streets and small old buildings. A secluded, rural town that was filled with so many emotions and memories was now dreadfully quiet. And it’s uncharacteristically cold even for early spring; he can feel the goose bumps popping up on his skin. The lack of any sort of life on the streets had set an alarm off in his head, something was not right. Rural or not, there should be people on the streets or in the shops; he passed a few- all of them shut and some even boarded up. What happened to this place? Not to mention all that fog which made the city feel eerie.
All of his musings were instantly silenced by the sound of footsteps not far from where he was. He could have sworn he had heard footsteps. He increased his pace, going around the corner of the old barber shop, and stopped- an iron fence was in his way. Too high to climb and there was no use tearing it down with his powers, he hadn’t found any need in damaging anything yet. There was a little hole though, and as the footsteps did not subside, he decided to peek in. He could feel his heart going numb; he could not believe his eyes. In the fog there was a man, he needn’t any special sort of powers to make out the stature, or the posture- even his cardigan was the same as-
“Charles!” Erik heard himself screaming out to the man and before he could even understand what was going on, the fence was bending and twisting into something unrecognizable. It didn’t give in as fast as he hoped it would, the hinges were too sturdy. When what’s left of the fence fell, clearing a path, the man was way ahead, and barely, just barely visible in that thick fog. He did not remember the last time he had run so fast.
Running fast didn’t do much good, he lost the man. He was so angry at himself that he did not even notice that he stepped on something, realizing it only when a -crunch- sound came from under his foot. Whatever it was, it was now in pieces and from what Erik could tell it was something in a very small bag. Opening it revealed a little bottle, and Erik had gone pale- the little bottle with sand, the one Erik had given Charles, the sand from the Cuban beach. The very same beach where he had killed Shaw and had nearly murdered thousands of men, blinded by his hatred- but Charles had stopped him that day and he had stayed. They returned to that beach after some time, after all, they did have to retrieve their equipment -broken or not- and Charles did an outstanding job at making the military men, who were there, ignore their presence. And before leaving, as a token of unendless gratitude for what Charles did, how he managed to keep their return a secret and save the people, no- save Erik- this little bottle of sand was a memento of what they’d been through and what they’d become now- better men. Charles had smiled and Erik could’ve sworn that he had seen a little tear in the corners of those eyes.
The man in the fog -the Charles look-alike- he had to find him, now.
____________
Easier said than done; Erik had been wondering the streets for unknown amount of time, literally unknown, his wristwatch had stopped at precisely 11:23, not to mention that he didn’t find any sort of clock on the streets, which was odd, but he did remember there was a huge clock near the police station. But the idea to go there was as good as no idea at all- he was lost anyway. They hadn’t spent that much time wondering the streets when they last were here; they were preoccupied with far more vital things.
He sighed, a soft little sound; he had to stop again- the pain was still there, nudging him, reminding him constantly of its presence, although it was not as persistent as it was before. Not to mention his split brow, the bleeding had stopped, but it was still there. All that became a far away thought the very moment the earth shook beneath his feet, a slight, but clearly felt tremor. And then another, a more powerful one that made Erik lose his balance for a moment. He didn’t have a chance to blink- the siren began its deafening howl, out of nowhere, making him sick and disoriented all at once. He had never heard anything like it, it was no ordinary siren, and the feeling, the anxious feeling that he felt bone-deep was not leaving, something was coming, something that he was not sure he would like to see and -dear god-
Panic was building, faster than anything, like water that breached the damp- everything was changing right before his eyes, it’s becoming dark, pitch-black darkness substituting the fog, and he can’t see a thing. Nothing. He hurriedly reached for his pockets, there had to be a matchbox there, it just had to be. His fingers searched fervently and he began to curse the too deep pockets and there- the precious little box was within his reach. He took it out and tried to light a match as quickly as it was even possible for a human being, but failed- the match falling to ground- he let it fall when he heard a chime. A sublime sound, his mind illuminating his consciousness with the images of the wind chimes, delicate sound to his ears and Charles sitting on the window sill, all of his attention focused on the book in his hand, soft wind dancing in his hair; he looked up to meet Erik’s eyes, smiling -and the illusion fell. He is back, face to face with nothing but darkness and he tried to light the match again, but stopped- his hands freezing their movement- a light. A weak, barely visible light that was shimmering up ahead through all of this blackness: a light of hope, of guidance? He doesn’t have much of a choice but to head towards that glow.
____________
It’s long, the road to the light was so long, and it felt like he was walking forever. It’s cold and dark; he doesn’t want to light the very last match he had, so he chose to go in blind. His legs were about to give away when he stumbled over something and fell flat on the ground, somewhere in the back of his mind, a tiny little voice was thankful for the opportunity to have a stop, even if it meant getting it this way.
He had landed on something, something sticky- mud? He had to check, so he ran his hand over the ground, although he cannot see at the moment, nobody had robbed him of the ability to smell. He bolted to his feet in an instant; he would recognize that smell without any doubt, the reeking smell of blood. Last match or no, he had to see and prove himself wrong.
The weak light from the match illuminated the scene beneath his feet and he regretted lightening it in the first place. It was repulsive, his stomach clenching painfully at the sight. He’s not a doctor, not close, but he is more than sure that whatever the hell lay at his feet was dead and it’s good that it is- its neck twisted at the very wrong angle and the skin was peeled off in several places and its knees seem to be twisted inward- and it’s swimming in its own blood. Whoever did this was a monster.
He had to look away, the gruesome mess in front of him was not helping subside the sickening feeling that was building up in his gut. The match went out, so as carefully as it was even possible he stepped over it and continued his way towards the beckoning light. One step, two- he yelped -an involuntarily reaction- his foot being caught in something, trying to drag him back and the moan he heard behind him was nothing a human can produce. All of a sudden he can feel it everywhere -entwining around his arms and legs and neck, along with a vile smell and sounds beyond any belief, he struggled with all his might, but alas, in vain. All he could see, before he’s consumed by the darkness, before his eyes fall shut, was Charles sitting in the window sill and smiling at him- he no longer heard the chime.