[ peter takes his eyes away from them for a moment; it feels like a moment, a girl’s answer small and scared in a language he can’t understand.
every part of him of screams that something is terribly wrong, frayed nerves and burning breaths as he tries to keep his inhales steady, through his nose, jaw tight. Tries to find his own proverbial footing — tries to still the disorientation and listen. it feels like he’s on the cusp, just a little bit more. just follow your intuition a few steps farther…
but it is overwhelming, and he feels a little too much and it doesn’t feel like just his own pain anymore and that’s the first thing that seems to put a single hairline fracture in his haze. it almost feels like there’s something else pushing against his mind, but he can’t quite chase it enough.
when he looks back, there’s no children, there’s no bed and instead there’s a tall stranger, bleached hair and a sort of look to his face that makes peter think he can trust him, unfazed and untouched by what is around them, displaced and standing not but a few feet away and peter still jolts.
even with his enhanced physiology, his body protests but he forces himself up to his feet, a smooth motion that turns sloppy at the end as he stumbles forward.
no, this was wrong — ] — What? How did you . . .
No, hi, I’m — I’m fine, [ think, Peter, think. he’s never met him before. where are they? how did you get here? what if there’s no time? he turns to look up to the man with sincere desperation. ] I have to find my aunt — she’s hurt.
[ this, he knows to be true. right? she’s hurt. no, she’s gone. he swallows a lump in his throat. ] There’s kids here. There were two kids, under a bed. Can you help — [ wait - where is the bed? where are they? peter pivots on the ball of his foot, searching. the look he throws pietro belies growing confusion. ] them? They were just here?
[ and more forcibly, voice rising louder around them, around this space he can’t quite get the sense of, swimming around the edges the further away he looks. ] May?
no subject
every part of him of screams that something is terribly wrong, frayed nerves and burning breaths as he tries to keep his inhales steady, through his nose, jaw tight. Tries to find his own proverbial footing — tries to still the disorientation and listen. it feels like he’s on the cusp, just a little bit more. just follow your intuition a few steps farther…
but it is overwhelming, and he feels a little too much and it doesn’t feel like just his own pain anymore and that’s the first thing that seems to put a single hairline fracture in his haze. it almost feels like there’s something else pushing against his mind, but he can’t quite chase it enough.
when he looks back, there’s no children, there’s no bed and instead there’s a tall stranger, bleached hair and a sort of look to his face that makes peter think he can trust him, unfazed and untouched by what is around them, displaced and standing not but a few feet away and peter still jolts.
even with his enhanced physiology, his body protests but he forces himself up to his feet, a smooth motion that turns sloppy at the end as he stumbles forward.
no, this was wrong — ] — What? How did you . . .
No, hi, I’m — I’m fine, [ think, Peter, think. he’s never met him before. where are they? how did you get here? what if there’s no time? he turns to look up to the man with sincere desperation. ] I have to find my aunt — she’s hurt.
[ this, he knows to be true. right? she’s hurt. no, she’s gone. he swallows a lump in his throat. ] There’s kids here. There were two kids, under a bed. Can you help — [ wait - where is the bed? where are they? peter pivots on the ball of his foot, searching. the look he throws pietro belies growing confusion. ] them? They were just here?
[ and more forcibly, voice rising louder around them, around this space he can’t quite get the sense of, swimming around the edges the further away he looks. ] May?