Hotel California - Clear
Jun. 16th, 2013 04:33 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsEverybody's out. . . . But Jean probably isn't making her lecture.
The sky was blue. When was the last time he'd seen a blue sky? Months? Years? His knees buckled and Remy fell to the sidewalk hard. He spread open his hand, feeling the rough texture of the concrete under his fingers, tracing the local utility symbol stamp into it. It was real and not nightmarish. He could smell something other than blood. Hear things other than screams. He screwed his eyes tightly shut, cheek against the sidewalk as his mind roiled.
Amanda shuddered as her connection with the real world reestablished itself. "Fucking hell..." she choked, still leaning on/holding up Nico. "I think we're done?"
Pfft Amanda, Nico was doing all the holding. She felt rested, energized and completely disgusted with herself. "Baddie of the month done for, yeah. And we're all in one piece! Well, kinda. I think I won't touch a dress in a couple of years."
The transition felt like a punch in the eye. Marie-Ange went from standing to sitting and leaning against a utility pole all at once, holding her face and poking at it carefully. It was all there. Her fingers walked over her eyes and nose and mouth, and then she buried her head in her knees and closed out the world.
Scott looked up at the others from his position on the floor, counting out the number of people who had made it out of the hotel. Everyone had made it out, he noted in relief, although it didn't look like anyone had had much fun while they were trapped inside. The X-Man opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it. There was nothing he could say, Scott realized as he lay back down on the ground. Perhaps he'd just lie here for a while before he had to get up.
The first thing Jean saw was the hotel. It made her look away in recoil. The last thing she remembered was being surrounded. And now, all there was was a warm summer breeze against her skin. Once she knew everyone was safe, she sank to the ground, too tired to wipe the blood from her nose, lips, and chin. The city and all its thoughts crashed into one another like a train wreck and she focused her attention on the park across the street, staring at the wind and sun through green leaves as she went over mantras under her breath. "Soham Japalehe Manawa. Soham, soham, soham...."
Scott heard Jean murmuring to herself from his position curled up on the ground and rolled over to look at Jean, "Hey," he called softly, "You ok Red? You were in there longer than any of us and," Scott gestured around the group, "we're not exactly doing great."
"Soha--huh?" Jean said, blinking down at Scott's voice cut through the rampant thoughts and she forced herself to focus.
"I'm--I'm fine," she said quickly, finally reaching up to brush the blood away. She tried to pull herself to her feet as she looked at her watch. Shit.
"I need to call Kirby...the lecture's in a half an hour." She hated cancelling at the last minute, like the guy before her, but apparently fate had other plans.
"Jean?" The word was slurred. Jim was still on the ground, apparently uninjured but with a slack, glassy look on his face. He turned to look at her, and his gaze only fell in her approximate area. Things didn't see to be working right. He was so deep in derealization he was viewing the world through a set of binoculars.
"Think I need some help," he continued haltingly. "Please call Charles." He started fumbling in his pocket for his phone with the vague idea of calling Betsy before she could kill him for finding out he'd been hurt.
Slowly looking over, Jean's eyes widened. She hadn't noticed it in all of the chaos. He was psychically splayed open like a gutted fish. She limped over to him and crouched down on her knees, biting back the sharp stabs of pain in her leg, hand, and ribs with the movement. She back toward the others, some covered in physical wounds as well.
The call to Charles was going to have to come first.
The moment she was back in what passed for real life, Wanda had shoved herself up from her sprawl on the sidewalk to where she moved away from the group for a moment. She felt oddly disconnected from her body and unable to sit down or sit still even though she knew rest was what she needed after the beating they all took. But she couldn't shake the fear or despair from even the briefest of times of thinking that Chthon had managed to slink back into her mind without her being able to fight him off.
She touched her back for a moment and felt the blood sticking to her shirt. Wanda hurt but not as much as she would have had Chthon been the one manipulating her and that - that she could draw strength from at least. Turning to the others, she grimaced at their various state of exhaustion and pain. "Let us go home and get the hell out of here," she said and then sighed, rubbing her forehead.
"...anyone remember where the train station is?"
The sky was blue. When was the last time he'd seen a blue sky? Months? Years? His knees buckled and Remy fell to the sidewalk hard. He spread open his hand, feeling the rough texture of the concrete under his fingers, tracing the local utility symbol stamp into it. It was real and not nightmarish. He could smell something other than blood. Hear things other than screams. He screwed his eyes tightly shut, cheek against the sidewalk as his mind roiled.
Amanda shuddered as her connection with the real world reestablished itself. "Fucking hell..." she choked, still leaning on/holding up Nico. "I think we're done?"
Pfft Amanda, Nico was doing all the holding. She felt rested, energized and completely disgusted with herself. "Baddie of the month done for, yeah. And we're all in one piece! Well, kinda. I think I won't touch a dress in a couple of years."
The transition felt like a punch in the eye. Marie-Ange went from standing to sitting and leaning against a utility pole all at once, holding her face and poking at it carefully. It was all there. Her fingers walked over her eyes and nose and mouth, and then she buried her head in her knees and closed out the world.
Scott looked up at the others from his position on the floor, counting out the number of people who had made it out of the hotel. Everyone had made it out, he noted in relief, although it didn't look like anyone had had much fun while they were trapped inside. The X-Man opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it. There was nothing he could say, Scott realized as he lay back down on the ground. Perhaps he'd just lie here for a while before he had to get up.
The first thing Jean saw was the hotel. It made her look away in recoil. The last thing she remembered was being surrounded. And now, all there was was a warm summer breeze against her skin. Once she knew everyone was safe, she sank to the ground, too tired to wipe the blood from her nose, lips, and chin. The city and all its thoughts crashed into one another like a train wreck and she focused her attention on the park across the street, staring at the wind and sun through green leaves as she went over mantras under her breath. "Soham Japalehe Manawa. Soham, soham, soham...."
Scott heard Jean murmuring to herself from his position curled up on the ground and rolled over to look at Jean, "Hey," he called softly, "You ok Red? You were in there longer than any of us and," Scott gestured around the group, "we're not exactly doing great."
"Soha--huh?" Jean said, blinking down at Scott's voice cut through the rampant thoughts and she forced herself to focus.
"I'm--I'm fine," she said quickly, finally reaching up to brush the blood away. She tried to pull herself to her feet as she looked at her watch. Shit.
"I need to call Kirby...the lecture's in a half an hour." She hated cancelling at the last minute, like the guy before her, but apparently fate had other plans.
"Jean?" The word was slurred. Jim was still on the ground, apparently uninjured but with a slack, glassy look on his face. He turned to look at her, and his gaze only fell in her approximate area. Things didn't see to be working right. He was so deep in derealization he was viewing the world through a set of binoculars.
"Think I need some help," he continued haltingly. "Please call Charles." He started fumbling in his pocket for his phone with the vague idea of calling Betsy before she could kill him for finding out he'd been hurt.
Slowly looking over, Jean's eyes widened. She hadn't noticed it in all of the chaos. He was psychically splayed open like a gutted fish. She limped over to him and crouched down on her knees, biting back the sharp stabs of pain in her leg, hand, and ribs with the movement. She back toward the others, some covered in physical wounds as well.
The call to Charles was going to have to come first.
The moment she was back in what passed for real life, Wanda had shoved herself up from her sprawl on the sidewalk to where she moved away from the group for a moment. She felt oddly disconnected from her body and unable to sit down or sit still even though she knew rest was what she needed after the beating they all took. But she couldn't shake the fear or despair from even the briefest of times of thinking that Chthon had managed to slink back into her mind without her being able to fight him off.
She touched her back for a moment and felt the blood sticking to her shirt. Wanda hurt but not as much as she would have had Chthon been the one manipulating her and that - that she could draw strength from at least. Turning to the others, she grimaced at their various state of exhaustion and pain. "Let us go home and get the hell out of here," she said and then sighed, rubbing her forehead.
"...anyone remember where the train station is?"
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