OOC - Second Memory - Sound/Smell/Touch/Taste
He reached up to grab a pair of mugs for tea and stopped when something rattled. Youth turned the mug to look in, reaching to catch whatever it was in case it came out fast. The crystal fell out of the mug and everything went black. On reflex Youth tried to reach out to grab a counter, anything, to stabilize himself without sight, still holding the mugs, hoping not to drop them. Instead his arms didn’t move.
They were crossed at the wrists in front of him, held there. He was holding them there; he could feel the effort in his muscles. There was a scent on the breeze, a green sort of smell, flowery and spring-like. He was barefoot, and the ground confirmed that he was outside, in a meadow of some sort. This wasn’t Edensphere, he was pretty sure. It was warm, instead of still winter.
Someone was nearby - Youth could feel a presence. But his memory-self didn’t seem to care, closing his eyes and slowly inhaling and then exhaling. His body settled into a relaxed state, and he could feel that power again, there, within reach. It filled him; it was a part of him.
“Eight Celestial Divination Gates,” he said quietly. His voice was young, much younger. Teenage? Early teens, maybe. He had no idea how much his voice had changed when. The power shifted, became focused.
“First gate: Initial Gate, release.” There was a rush of the energy starting to flood him, and Youth was distantly aware of surprise. He hadn’t expected it to work? Whatever it was. A breeze slipping by threatened to steal his focus, crisp and lovely and scented of flowers. It soothed the sudden added strain on his body.
“Second gate: Heal gate.” Now the flow was different. It was stronger, causing tension to increase greatly in his head. His hands tingled, and Youth had no idea what he was doing.
“Third gate: Life gate.” Youth was aware of pathways, filling with the power, pushing him, threatening to sweep him away. It was exhilarating. Mixed with the exhilaration, though, was his own active awareness that his body was under a great deal of stress, especially in his spine. This wasn’t right, somehow. Was he doing it wrong?
“Fourth gate: Pain gate.” That gate lived up to his name. Pain that could not be healthy was building along with the power, still focused in his spine. Why was he still going? Was it supposed to feel like this? Youth couldn’t figure it out.
“Fifth gate: Limit gate, release!” That was greeted with an explosion of power so strong it was almost tangible. It streamed upward and outward, and Youth wondered if it was visible. That much… he hadn’t used nearly that much to stop the sand. Not even as much as the first gate had caused to surge. He could almost get caught up in the rush of this, the feel of strength and vitality, if he wasn’t aware of his body struggling to deal with it. His younger self didn’t seem to notice, not yet.
“Sixth gate: View gate, release!” Clearly his younger self wasn’t concerned. There was excitement in his voice and adrenaline pumping through his veins even as his body bent from the strain. Youth could feel his lungs and heart straining with the force that bore down on him. Eight? There were eight? Could he survive this? That was a stupid question. Obviously he had. He was alive.
“Sev-“ His voice broke as the pressure became too much, the force overwhelming him. Youth’s younger self fell to his knees, and Youth could no longer feel his heart beating. About all he could feel was falling onto his stomach, his face smacking into the damp earth as things started to get fuzzy. He could not breathe.
Then hands grabbed him, flipping him roughly to his back. Something sharp grazed his chest, and then he could feel the breeze there too. His shirt had been cut open. Something was muttered, and then searing pain ripped through him. The scent of something burning filled the air. Oh, right. Him. The pain stopped, and the world kept fading.
The crackle sounded again, hurting even more, but now Youth didn’t care, because he could feel his heart resume beating. He gasped for breath almost desperately, rolling onto his side, onto something hard and square. The other person was right there, and the younger version of Youth opened his eyes. Vision didn’t return. It was still black.
“Don’t bleed on my book.” The object was yanked out from under Youth. The voice was younger, but there was no hiding the lazy tones. Bell. There was also something else in that voice. Strain, maybe? It might have been difficult to do something that burned someone else.
Youth didn’t answer, still working on the breathing as his eyes closed again. Every bit of his body was in pain, excruciating pain. He didn’t want to move more, no, he couldn’t move more. He was a hair away from passing out, blissful unconsciousness. But it wasn’t quite coming yet.
“That’s where you call me hip again as if it’s an insult. In case you’d forgotten.” A hand pushed hair back from Youth’s forehead, checking as if for a fever. “---? Say something.”
That was odd. It was almost as if something had been blurred out audibly. There had been voice, but the word was distant, lost. Like him. He wanted to answer, especially since the voice sounded more strained. Possibly stressed. But that didn’t seem like a Bell thing to be. As the younger Youth tried to speak, he passed out, sinking almost thankfully into the blackness.
Youth’s eyes snapped open as he fell backward, trying to keep the mugs from shattering on the ground while at the same time trying to banish the echoes of sympathy pain running through him from the memory. He managed to save the mugs, landing hard on his back and staying there for a moment, staring upward. Then he decided to stay there a few moments longer, to recover a bit more.
At least now he knew the story behind one of his scars.
[[ooc: Memory is headcanon, derived from pretty popular fanon of him trying to open all of the gates at once and landing in Medical for a year. This is from the crystal from Cops and Robbers, price is Youth losing half of his money.]]
They were crossed at the wrists in front of him, held there. He was holding them there; he could feel the effort in his muscles. There was a scent on the breeze, a green sort of smell, flowery and spring-like. He was barefoot, and the ground confirmed that he was outside, in a meadow of some sort. This wasn’t Edensphere, he was pretty sure. It was warm, instead of still winter.
Someone was nearby - Youth could feel a presence. But his memory-self didn’t seem to care, closing his eyes and slowly inhaling and then exhaling. His body settled into a relaxed state, and he could feel that power again, there, within reach. It filled him; it was a part of him.
“Eight Celestial Divination Gates,” he said quietly. His voice was young, much younger. Teenage? Early teens, maybe. He had no idea how much his voice had changed when. The power shifted, became focused.
“First gate: Initial Gate, release.” There was a rush of the energy starting to flood him, and Youth was distantly aware of surprise. He hadn’t expected it to work? Whatever it was. A breeze slipping by threatened to steal his focus, crisp and lovely and scented of flowers. It soothed the sudden added strain on his body.
“Second gate: Heal gate.” Now the flow was different. It was stronger, causing tension to increase greatly in his head. His hands tingled, and Youth had no idea what he was doing.
“Third gate: Life gate.” Youth was aware of pathways, filling with the power, pushing him, threatening to sweep him away. It was exhilarating. Mixed with the exhilaration, though, was his own active awareness that his body was under a great deal of stress, especially in his spine. This wasn’t right, somehow. Was he doing it wrong?
“Fourth gate: Pain gate.” That gate lived up to his name. Pain that could not be healthy was building along with the power, still focused in his spine. Why was he still going? Was it supposed to feel like this? Youth couldn’t figure it out.
“Fifth gate: Limit gate, release!” That was greeted with an explosion of power so strong it was almost tangible. It streamed upward and outward, and Youth wondered if it was visible. That much… he hadn’t used nearly that much to stop the sand. Not even as much as the first gate had caused to surge. He could almost get caught up in the rush of this, the feel of strength and vitality, if he wasn’t aware of his body struggling to deal with it. His younger self didn’t seem to notice, not yet.
“Sixth gate: View gate, release!” Clearly his younger self wasn’t concerned. There was excitement in his voice and adrenaline pumping through his veins even as his body bent from the strain. Youth could feel his lungs and heart straining with the force that bore down on him. Eight? There were eight? Could he survive this? That was a stupid question. Obviously he had. He was alive.
“Sev-“ His voice broke as the pressure became too much, the force overwhelming him. Youth’s younger self fell to his knees, and Youth could no longer feel his heart beating. About all he could feel was falling onto his stomach, his face smacking into the damp earth as things started to get fuzzy. He could not breathe.
Then hands grabbed him, flipping him roughly to his back. Something sharp grazed his chest, and then he could feel the breeze there too. His shirt had been cut open. Something was muttered, and then searing pain ripped through him. The scent of something burning filled the air. Oh, right. Him. The pain stopped, and the world kept fading.
The crackle sounded again, hurting even more, but now Youth didn’t care, because he could feel his heart resume beating. He gasped for breath almost desperately, rolling onto his side, onto something hard and square. The other person was right there, and the younger version of Youth opened his eyes. Vision didn’t return. It was still black.
“Don’t bleed on my book.” The object was yanked out from under Youth. The voice was younger, but there was no hiding the lazy tones. Bell. There was also something else in that voice. Strain, maybe? It might have been difficult to do something that burned someone else.
Youth didn’t answer, still working on the breathing as his eyes closed again. Every bit of his body was in pain, excruciating pain. He didn’t want to move more, no, he couldn’t move more. He was a hair away from passing out, blissful unconsciousness. But it wasn’t quite coming yet.
“That’s where you call me hip again as if it’s an insult. In case you’d forgotten.” A hand pushed hair back from Youth’s forehead, checking as if for a fever. “---? Say something.”
That was odd. It was almost as if something had been blurred out audibly. There had been voice, but the word was distant, lost. Like him. He wanted to answer, especially since the voice sounded more strained. Possibly stressed. But that didn’t seem like a Bell thing to be. As the younger Youth tried to speak, he passed out, sinking almost thankfully into the blackness.
Youth’s eyes snapped open as he fell backward, trying to keep the mugs from shattering on the ground while at the same time trying to banish the echoes of sympathy pain running through him from the memory. He managed to save the mugs, landing hard on his back and staying there for a moment, staring upward. Then he decided to stay there a few moments longer, to recover a bit more.
At least now he knew the story behind one of his scars.
[[ooc: Memory is headcanon, derived from pretty popular fanon of him trying to open all of the gates at once and landing in Medical for a year. This is from the crystal from Cops and Robbers, price is Youth losing half of his money.]]