the angst is thick enough to make soup out of.
Who: magnetiferous and forgodssakeerik
What: Woobie woobiness of the highest backdated variety.
When: An hour or so after Charles gets on the ship.
Where: In an elevator somewhere.
Warnings: The woobiest. ENTER AT YOUR OWN WOOBLING RISK.
Millions of lives, lost.
In less than a second. It was like some calm, gigantic water-tap being shut off very suddenly - the quiet, reassuring whispers in the back of his mind of the people around him, murmuring and living and breathing, suddenly gone. Click. No more. They were almost immediately replaced by a cacophony of unfamiliar and terrifying shouts, his mind jarred and suddenly overwhelmed with the displacement, and he cried out and lost consciousness for a moment or so.
The paperwork wasn't difficult, but it was entirely trying. He struggled through it, tears quietly running down his face, and was so distracted he ended up having to go through the line twice. Or three times. He lost count. He didn't much care.
Now, he's standing in the back of a crowded lift, tears still running down his face, on a gigantic spaceship in the middle of space-nowhere, surrounded by a million different minds but hearing none of them. He's almost too afraid to tap in and listen: afraid to know the reason his planet was destroyed, afraid to learn if someone here is responsible, afraid to learn the real reason behind it all. Or maybe there is no reason, and that happens to scare him the most. He's drained, and hurt, and feeling more alone than he has ever in his entire life, only trying to catch his breath.
God, what he wouldn't give for a pint.
What: Woobie woobiness of the highest backdated variety.
When: An hour or so after Charles gets on the ship.
Where: In an elevator somewhere.
Warnings: The woobiest. ENTER AT YOUR OWN WOOBLING RISK.
Millions of lives, lost.
In less than a second. It was like some calm, gigantic water-tap being shut off very suddenly - the quiet, reassuring whispers in the back of his mind of the people around him, murmuring and living and breathing, suddenly gone. Click. No more. They were almost immediately replaced by a cacophony of unfamiliar and terrifying shouts, his mind jarred and suddenly overwhelmed with the displacement, and he cried out and lost consciousness for a moment or so.
The paperwork wasn't difficult, but it was entirely trying. He struggled through it, tears quietly running down his face, and was so distracted he ended up having to go through the line twice. Or three times. He lost count. He didn't much care.
Now, he's standing in the back of a crowded lift, tears still running down his face, on a gigantic spaceship in the middle of space-nowhere, surrounded by a million different minds but hearing none of them. He's almost too afraid to tap in and listen: afraid to know the reason his planet was destroyed, afraid to learn if someone here is responsible, afraid to learn the real reason behind it all. Or maybe there is no reason, and that happens to scare him the most. He's drained, and hurt, and feeling more alone than he has ever in his entire life, only trying to catch his breath.
God, what he wouldn't give for a pint.