[my action/adventure dream]
I've barely slept since I woke up yesterday morning to the most brilliant sunrise I've seen in recent memory, and realized it wasn't a dream. My sight is not something I've ever longed for, because there's not much sense in pining for the unattainable when there's so much else to do, but on those few occasions it's been returned to me over the years, through one way or another, I cherished every precious second until it was once again taken. The accident that blinded me was beyond my control, but since then I've been given the choice, and always, I went back to the comfort of sightless eyes. It's what I needed to continue being Daredevil.
But I don't need to be Daredevil here; I can count on one hand the number of times I've pulled out the suit since my arrival, and all of them were in the past month, when I wore it in the depths of Rapture, beyond the secured area only. If I had the choice now...
The island is a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes, most of which I have no basis for comparison, the hard lines of the Hell's Kitchen from my youth a world apart from the chaotic paradise of the island. I've spent hours relearning pathways I know by sound and smell and touch, but not by sight, enjoying the process of getting lost as much as I do the exploration. I am as transfixed by the simple beauty of an orange flower in bloom as I am by the roiling, shifting ocean. Without knowing that this is it, that Tabula Rasa's two islands comprise the entirety of the world, I would swear this pocket dimension of ours stretches on indefinitely, no beginning and no end, just endless blue.
Tearing my gaze from the horizon, I look down, finding the water clear enough that I can see my feet slowly sinking beneath soft, white sand. After a moment, though, I let my focus shift, my attention fully absorbed by my own youthful reflection. (Light blue eyes and sandy red hair, a mouth that's been etched into a bewildered smile for nearly two days, a thin, pale body that speaks of free time being spent indoors, unmarked by the scars of a life not yet lived...) I can't be any older than fifteen years old, but I carry the wisdom of a man who's survived twice as long. I don't question it.
My name is Matt Murdock, and the only reason I'd look a gift horse in the mouth right about now is simply because I could see it.
Closed to new threads.
But I don't need to be Daredevil here; I can count on one hand the number of times I've pulled out the suit since my arrival, and all of them were in the past month, when I wore it in the depths of Rapture, beyond the secured area only. If I had the choice now...
The island is a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes, most of which I have no basis for comparison, the hard lines of the Hell's Kitchen from my youth a world apart from the chaotic paradise of the island. I've spent hours relearning pathways I know by sound and smell and touch, but not by sight, enjoying the process of getting lost as much as I do the exploration. I am as transfixed by the simple beauty of an orange flower in bloom as I am by the roiling, shifting ocean. Without knowing that this is it, that Tabula Rasa's two islands comprise the entirety of the world, I would swear this pocket dimension of ours stretches on indefinitely, no beginning and no end, just endless blue.
Tearing my gaze from the horizon, I look down, finding the water clear enough that I can see my feet slowly sinking beneath soft, white sand. After a moment, though, I let my focus shift, my attention fully absorbed by my own youthful reflection. (Light blue eyes and sandy red hair, a mouth that's been etched into a bewildered smile for nearly two days, a thin, pale body that speaks of free time being spent indoors, unmarked by the scars of a life not yet lived...) I can't be any older than fifteen years old, but I carry the wisdom of a man who's survived twice as long. I don't question it.
My name is Matt Murdock, and the only reason I'd look a gift horse in the mouth right about now is simply because I could see it.
Closed to new threads.