Erik Lehnsherr (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
e4e5nf3nc6nc3nf6) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
onepassingnight2011-09-17 01:32 am
e4e5nf3nc6nc3nf6) wrote in onepassingnight2011-09-17 01:32 am
Oh, hey, remember a million years ago when I app'd this guy?
The clouds hang long and heavy in the sky, a deep gun-metal grey that shrouded everything below in ominous shadows. Rain poured steadily, making a mire of the ground. There was nothing but grey and murky brown as far as the eye could see: dull, lifeless brick buildings, rusted fence reaching skyward topped with aged razor wire, not a soul in sight. Moving along the sole path that presents itself, a peculiar smell barely masked by the rain became detectable. The putrid scent of spoiled meat and other foods left out to rot. It all made sense one the path turned.
The buildings seemed to fade into the distance, replaced by piles of bodies. The corpses of men, women, and children dumped unceremoniously aside in various states of decay, all in rags. Crows circled round, the harsh calls seeming to mock any who tried to pass. Some perched atop the dead pecking away at the meaty remains of tongues and blank, lifeless eyes. And, god, that smell! The only hope of escaping it was a single, solitary building looming ahead with a lights burning in every window, but it's anything but welcoming.
The change from the drab, grey world is almost blinding. Inside everything is bright and crisp white and the scent of cleaning agents give it a sterile smell, much like a hospital... or a morgue. In fact, that's exactly what this room looks like with it's cold examination table and the myriad of sharp, glinting tools resting on trays and dangling from walls. There's even a suspicious drain on the floor to wash away unsightly fluids. The silence is broken by the crackling din of a cheery tune playing from some unseen record player. It almost seems out of place after everything outside and the quiet menace that fills the room.
A window above gave a brief glimpse of shadowy figures in the unseen observation theatre. They're the only sign of life save for the man sitting, back turned, on the exam table. Like the bodies outside, Erik's dressed in the rags he recalls so clearly from his childhood. Erik's accustomed to this dream, though. He's spent years with the exaggerated memories and fears of childhood creeping around his jagged, broken mind and mingling with his subconscious. But, it's so familiar, he immediately noticed an intruding presence. Without looking over his shoulder, he simply said, "You should not be here."
The buildings seemed to fade into the distance, replaced by piles of bodies. The corpses of men, women, and children dumped unceremoniously aside in various states of decay, all in rags. Crows circled round, the harsh calls seeming to mock any who tried to pass. Some perched atop the dead pecking away at the meaty remains of tongues and blank, lifeless eyes. And, god, that smell! The only hope of escaping it was a single, solitary building looming ahead with a lights burning in every window, but it's anything but welcoming.
The change from the drab, grey world is almost blinding. Inside everything is bright and crisp white and the scent of cleaning agents give it a sterile smell, much like a hospital... or a morgue. In fact, that's exactly what this room looks like with it's cold examination table and the myriad of sharp, glinting tools resting on trays and dangling from walls. There's even a suspicious drain on the floor to wash away unsightly fluids. The silence is broken by the crackling din of a cheery tune playing from some unseen record player. It almost seems out of place after everything outside and the quiet menace that fills the room.
A window above gave a brief glimpse of shadowy figures in the unseen observation theatre. They're the only sign of life save for the man sitting, back turned, on the exam table. Like the bodies outside, Erik's dressed in the rags he recalls so clearly from his childhood. Erik's accustomed to this dream, though. He's spent years with the exaggerated memories and fears of childhood creeping around his jagged, broken mind and mingling with his subconscious. But, it's so familiar, he immediately noticed an intruding presence. Without looking over his shoulder, he simply said, "You should not be here."
no subject
"Charles Xavier. Have you come to rescue me again?"
no subject
no subject
And yet here was Charles, once again in his head. Once again bearing witness to the broken, jagged landscape of his mind. Once against seeing all the things Erik fought so hard to keep from anyone's view lest they look at him with pity, or worse, happiness that he'd managed to survive.
"Tell me, Charles, where do you propose we go? Back out into the rain? Into that graveyard?"
no subject
no subject
"Or a great liability," Erik countered as he drew nearer. "Is that why you're here, Charles? Violating my privacy in a effort to be my friend? You've been in here once before, you should know to stay out of my head."
Erik kept his eyes fixed on the hand the man offered, but pointedly didn't take it. Instead, he jerked his head toward the door. "Come, then. You toured me your childhood home. Let me show you mine." There was an acrid bitterness to the words, a distaste perhaps at how different their formative years had been.
no subject
"I hardly consider this violating your privacy. I do know everything about you, after all."
no subject
In its own way, it was also liberating.
Erik wrenched the door open with more force than absolutely necessary, a testament to his great loathing of this place and all it meant, but he did so without physically touching it. It was here, after all, in his mind that he could use his power indiscriminately.