Robert Reynolds ☼ THE SENTRY ☀ the void (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
couldbeavoided) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
capeandcowllogs2011-05-18 11:47 am
couldbeavoided) wrote in capeandcowllogs2011-05-18 11:47 am
Entry tags:
I've been waiting for too long, staring at the sun
WHO: THE SENTRY
WHERE: Avengers Mansion and elsewhere
WHEN: May 19th
WARNINGS: Disassociation
SUMMARY: Cracks start to grow.
FORMAT: Solo.
It was quiet -- too quiet. That ever cliche turn of phrase found its way into Bob's thoughts, and it didn't leave because it was true. Alone in his bedroom in the Avengers Mansion it was quiet (too quiet), his room was sparse and Bruce lay curled up on the neatly-made-up bed, asleep.
It would be easy to simply go outside and find someone for company, someone to talk to, but the truth of the matter was that Bob didn't want to.
What would he say?
They knew, all of them knew. Thor had been the only one to be honest with him, Bob supposed he should thank him for that. He didn't like it, walking around in this world of glass. One mistake and everything was set to break, cracking in a line of narrow spiderwebs from his foot. He was hyper-aware to every possible signal and symptom, too paranoid to rest even for a moment. He was seeing things, hearing things, taking his mind off things by long walks and endless patrols. He couldn't tell them, not any, they wouldn't trust him. He wasn't sure if he wanted to deal with the funny looks and the doubt. No one but him ever noticed if he was somewhere he shouldn't be, didn't remember flying to.
Like right now.
He didn't know where he was coming from. His eyes had snapped open and he was already flying, circling over a brilliant blue expanse of water. There was ash and dirt on his hands, strain on the skin of his knuckles. Where--?
Whatever way he'd come from was a mystery, he could only see water. Frowning, he forced himself to pick a direction and fly on, pushing out the whispers of concern, the thoughts of worse-case scenarios. He'd probably just come back from putting out a fire. He'd certainly done that enough times. That was all it was.
WHERE: Avengers Mansion and elsewhere
WHEN: May 19th
WARNINGS: Disassociation
SUMMARY: Cracks start to grow.
FORMAT: Solo.
It was quiet -- too quiet. That ever cliche turn of phrase found its way into Bob's thoughts, and it didn't leave because it was true. Alone in his bedroom in the Avengers Mansion it was quiet (too quiet), his room was sparse and Bruce lay curled up on the neatly-made-up bed, asleep.
It would be easy to simply go outside and find someone for company, someone to talk to, but the truth of the matter was that Bob didn't want to.
What would he say?
They knew, all of them knew. Thor had been the only one to be honest with him, Bob supposed he should thank him for that. He didn't like it, walking around in this world of glass. One mistake and everything was set to break, cracking in a line of narrow spiderwebs from his foot. He was hyper-aware to every possible signal and symptom, too paranoid to rest even for a moment. He was seeing things, hearing things, taking his mind off things by long walks and endless patrols. He couldn't tell them, not any, they wouldn't trust him. He wasn't sure if he wanted to deal with the funny looks and the doubt. No one but him ever noticed if he was somewhere he shouldn't be, didn't remember flying to.
Like right now.
He didn't know where he was coming from. His eyes had snapped open and he was already flying, circling over a brilliant blue expanse of water. There was ash and dirt on his hands, strain on the skin of his knuckles. Where--?
Whatever way he'd come from was a mystery, he could only see water. Frowning, he forced himself to pick a direction and fly on, pushing out the whispers of concern, the thoughts of worse-case scenarios. He'd probably just come back from putting out a fire. He'd certainly done that enough times. That was all it was.