Dillon Cole || Scorpion Shard (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
orderfromchaos) wrote2014-10-03 03:50 am
orderfromchaos) wrote2014-10-03 03:50 am
16. i can feel this body dying all around me
[Spam for Bush, backdated slightly]
[He doesn't really move for the first three days. He feels blind, dead, wooden, crushed impossibly thin, like a person rendered in two dimensions instead of three. The whole word is empty, arbitrary, veiled. He doesn't want to deal with it. He is above dealing with it. It will end. These things do, veterans have told him. A few days, five at most.
But he still has a human body, one he is being forced to inhabit more strictly than he has in two years. And eventually, as he acclimates, hunger wins out over horror and rage and pride. He stumbles out into the hallway, staggers along, dizzy and weak.]
[Public video]
[It's mirror Dillon. It's unmistakable; he's a little younger, unscarred, his hair messy in a way that's literally impossible when his powers are working. He's curled up in the shadow of a perfectly geometrically symmetrical, fractal tree growing out of the remains of an oak coffee table in the eighth floor common room, back against it's perfectly cylindrical trunk, ridges in the bark as even as links of chain mail. It feels familiar, real. A lost piece of himself, alive. He looks down for a moment, frowning, then stares back up, defiant, trouble.]
I've done some really messed-up things. But so has he. I'm pretty sure we both got trapped into some awful situations.
If any of you talked to that other Dillon - I think. Things went wrong for us in a lot of the same ways. But some different ones too. I want to talk to you about it, if you'll let me. The more I know what's possible, the better odds I have of fixing things when I get back to my world.
[He doesn't really move for the first three days. He feels blind, dead, wooden, crushed impossibly thin, like a person rendered in two dimensions instead of three. The whole word is empty, arbitrary, veiled. He doesn't want to deal with it. He is above dealing with it. It will end. These things do, veterans have told him. A few days, five at most.
But he still has a human body, one he is being forced to inhabit more strictly than he has in two years. And eventually, as he acclimates, hunger wins out over horror and rage and pride. He stumbles out into the hallway, staggers along, dizzy and weak.]
[Public video]
[It's mirror Dillon. It's unmistakable; he's a little younger, unscarred, his hair messy in a way that's literally impossible when his powers are working. He's curled up in the shadow of a perfectly geometrically symmetrical, fractal tree growing out of the remains of an oak coffee table in the eighth floor common room, back against it's perfectly cylindrical trunk, ridges in the bark as even as links of chain mail. It feels familiar, real. A lost piece of himself, alive. He looks down for a moment, frowning, then stares back up, defiant, trouble.]
I've done some really messed-up things. But so has he. I'm pretty sure we both got trapped into some awful situations.
If any of you talked to that other Dillon - I think. Things went wrong for us in a lot of the same ways. But some different ones too. I want to talk to you about it, if you'll let me. The more I know what's possible, the better odds I have of fixing things when I get back to my world.
no subject
[A scowl, frustration, restraint.]
He's one of the good guys, apparently, and after everything I tried to do, I'm - not.
[It's genuinely galling.]
And I'd kind of like to know where it is I supposedly went wrong.
no subject
[ He considers, though-- how to let him know, how to help him. He owes Dillon, one way or another, doesn't he? ]
He helped me -- mended me, stabilized me. He meant well -- in everything he did. But I don't know a lot about who he was before the barge. Some people don't want to talk about who they were and... he's got that right, to keep it private.
I know he went through some terrible times. Cults, things like that. But beyond that-- he's not really quick to share.
no subject
[This is quiet, almost said just to himself. He wonders how badly the other Okoya burned the other him; there must have been one. He is fate and the places fate breaks, he is sure; there must have been another Okoya.]
Do you know anyone he did talk to? More?
no subject