Still in the Brig....(OTA)
Well, he had been in the brig for, well, he wasn't sure just how long now, and it appeared he had been forgotten about. Too bad, Mark could have done with a sandwich right about now. Hell, he could have done with about ten sandwiches right now. Of course, the fact everyone was running around trying to deal with the fact he had dramatically aged them might have had something to do with the fact no one had noticed he was gone. He just sincerely hoped he hadn't aged anyone right out of existence. Even he couldn't bring someone back from the dead.
In the meantime, the time manipulating mutant was trying to hold on to what little of his mind he had left. The problem with seeing time the way he did meant he needed something to keep him grounded in the present. Normally, that meant his watches. But even that wasn't enough currently. He was confused. Was he really a twentysomething who had accidentally aged himself back? Or was he really nine years old, back at the asylum, only seeing all this in his future? Or maybe he was dead, and this was his own personal hell. He didn't know, and this was bothering him greatly. He had taken to pacing back and forth, kicking the door whenever he passed it, or sitting curled up in the corner, feeling sorry for himself. He didn't dare try to reverse what he had done, not around himself or any of the other manipulated time streams he could still feel in his head. That would only cause more trouble, and he was through with that. Mark slid down against the wall, legs curled curled up as he wrapped his arms around them, slowly rocking back and forth.
In the meantime, the time manipulating mutant was trying to hold on to what little of his mind he had left. The problem with seeing time the way he did meant he needed something to keep him grounded in the present. Normally, that meant his watches. But even that wasn't enough currently. He was confused. Was he really a twentysomething who had accidentally aged himself back? Or was he really nine years old, back at the asylum, only seeing all this in his future? Or maybe he was dead, and this was his own personal hell. He didn't know, and this was bothering him greatly. He had taken to pacing back and forth, kicking the door whenever he passed it, or sitting curled up in the corner, feeling sorry for himself. He didn't dare try to reverse what he had done, not around himself or any of the other manipulated time streams he could still feel in his head. That would only cause more trouble, and he was through with that. Mark slid down against the wall, legs curled curled up as he wrapped his arms around them, slowly rocking back and forth.