[ He didn't know how but he'd somehow felt the moment someone new had appeared in his horizon. And the sudden sick sense of lurking dread that came with it. Which made absolutely no sense to him, but shit's been weird all week now so he'd stopped questioning it for the most part. Still, he'd let his instincts guide him, passing through the dining hall, even as he tried to figure out what this terrible foreboding feeling might be coming from.
Of course, then he steps out into the courtyard and spots a scene that is so out of place that for a moment he can only stand frozen as a cold shiver of dread slides down his spine.
The well's a familiar one, of course. It had haunted nearly all of his childhood, after all, and was the sole cause for his fear of enclosed dark spaces and deep water. Which were not things he admitted easily and almost no one outside of his closest few confidants knew anything of the sort.
So seeing Wanda leaning over the edge of it to peer down into the darkness below has him lunging forward to stop her, a warning cry on his lips that somehow doesn't seem to reach her. And does nothing to stop the surge of fear and the torrent of old memories that are unlocked along with it.
The hard jolt of a shove from behind, the sense of falling. Of cold and dark and fear. Of the haunting sound of a laugh that to this day he can't remember if he just imagined or if it had actually echoed down the wet stones to mock him. Of crying for help when there was no one to hear. And finally, exhaustion giving way to resignation.
Rescue had come at the very last moment, at least - luckily for him, else he wouldn't be here to relive the trauma in the first place. But he'd never admitted to anyone how he'd given up down there. Certain that the cold and the wet and the dark would be the last thing he would ever see.
It's a sharp, biting thing to relive now, heavy in remembrance. Combined with the dark whispers of the past few days, it fills his mind all too easily. Guilt's been a heavy thing on his shoulders when the whispers have been coming out to play, and anything invoking his brother's memory always brought with it the heaviest weight of that. ]
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Of course, then he steps out into the courtyard and spots a scene that is so out of place that for a moment he can only stand frozen as a cold shiver of dread slides down his spine.
The well's a familiar one, of course. It had haunted nearly all of his childhood, after all, and was the sole cause for his fear of enclosed dark spaces and deep water. Which were not things he admitted easily and almost no one outside of his closest few confidants knew anything of the sort.
So seeing Wanda leaning over the edge of it to peer down into the darkness below has him lunging forward to stop her, a warning cry on his lips that somehow doesn't seem to reach her. And does nothing to stop the surge of fear and the torrent of old memories that are unlocked along with it.
The hard jolt of a shove from behind, the sense of falling. Of cold and dark and fear. Of the haunting sound of a laugh that to this day he can't remember if he just imagined or if it had actually echoed down the wet stones to mock him. Of crying for help when there was no one to hear. And finally, exhaustion giving way to resignation.
Rescue had come at the very last moment, at least - luckily for him, else he wouldn't be here to relive the trauma in the first place. But he'd never admitted to anyone how he'd given up down there. Certain that the cold and the wet and the dark would be the last thing he would ever see.
It's a sharp, biting thing to relive now, heavy in remembrance. Combined with the dark whispers of the past few days, it fills his mind all too easily. Guilt's been a heavy thing on his shoulders when the whispers have been coming out to play, and anything invoking his brother's memory always brought with it the heaviest weight of that. ]