(no subject)
It's like taking a step backwards.
He'd been getting almost good on his leg, the limp less noticeable. He'd been swimming a lot, using the leg that Hiccup made him for exactly that purpose. People had warned him about winter, but he hadn't really thought about it until he woke up to a world blanketed white and a leg complicated by cogs and gears that whirred faintly when he moved. Suddenly, he was aware of it all over again. The couple of times he's been with Neil has helped, in a weird way; it's all such a none-thing to Neil that, somehow it helps Tunny think of it less.
It never fucking lasts.
After seeing Shari, he goes for a walk, hands shoved into the pocket of his coat. He's walking with his head down. It was Fall in New York while they were there, not so much warmer than this, but there's something about the wind and the grey snow that makes it harder. He turns down a side-street. There a little stores open. The ghost people come and go. And he must be distracted by them, must be paying attention to something other than the soles of his boots because, one minute, he's walking, and the next minute he's on his back, winded and staring up at the sky. For a moment, he thinks that, maybe he tastes blood. He touches the tips of his fingers to his lip.
"Motherfucker."
Which is fine, but then he realises how impossible it's going to be to get up. The prosthetic has a knee that bends but he can't put any weight on it to get up off the floor and, when he tries to, he slips again, skinning his palms. Part of him won't let him just scramble onto all fours. There's only so much humiliation he can take.
He loses track of how many steps backwards this is.
ooc: in case you're not aware, Tunny is an above-knee amputee on the left side. While he's unlikely to be pleasant, he'd appreciate the help from anyone. ST/LT welcome
He'd been getting almost good on his leg, the limp less noticeable. He'd been swimming a lot, using the leg that Hiccup made him for exactly that purpose. People had warned him about winter, but he hadn't really thought about it until he woke up to a world blanketed white and a leg complicated by cogs and gears that whirred faintly when he moved. Suddenly, he was aware of it all over again. The couple of times he's been with Neil has helped, in a weird way; it's all such a none-thing to Neil that, somehow it helps Tunny think of it less.
It never fucking lasts.
After seeing Shari, he goes for a walk, hands shoved into the pocket of his coat. He's walking with his head down. It was Fall in New York while they were there, not so much warmer than this, but there's something about the wind and the grey snow that makes it harder. He turns down a side-street. There a little stores open. The ghost people come and go. And he must be distracted by them, must be paying attention to something other than the soles of his boots because, one minute, he's walking, and the next minute he's on his back, winded and staring up at the sky. For a moment, he thinks that, maybe he tastes blood. He touches the tips of his fingers to his lip.
"Motherfucker."
Which is fine, but then he realises how impossible it's going to be to get up. The prosthetic has a knee that bends but he can't put any weight on it to get up off the floor and, when he tries to, he slips again, skinning his palms. Part of him won't let him just scramble onto all fours. There's only so much humiliation he can take.
He loses track of how many steps backwards this is.
ooc: in case you're not aware, Tunny is an above-knee amputee on the left side. While he's unlikely to be pleasant, he'd appreciate the help from anyone. ST/LT welcome