pietro maximoff. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
windchasing) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
pineslog2017-05-29 02:37 pm
windchasing) wrote in pineslog2017-05-29 02:37 pm
closed ➠ we built this town on shaky ground
Who: Pietro Maximoff, David Haller, Cassian Andor, Wanda Maximoff
Where: The hospital, people's respective homes.
When: Gently backdated to May 26th
What: Pietro wakes up after his death on May 20th, checks in with people
Warnings: Graphic description of death by electrocution & fire.
[Closed]
They tell him he was in an accident — a collision, and Pietro thinks, well, at least that is one thing to come out of their mouths that isn't a lie. Not technically speaking. He doesn't remember the impact, but he remembers running. Trees passing swift on his left and right and him believing, stupidly, that's all he would find out there. That the bit of metal he'd found in his leg was just a piece of stray shrapnel the doctors hadn't noticed before, that Poe and Steve had just been playing some kind of uncharacteristically elaborate prank, that of course Wayward Pines is isolated but there couldn't possibly be armed guards around its perimeter.
He remembers the sinking feeling in his gut as his speed abruptly sapped and he'd known they were right. Just before the fence came into view. Just before his feet failed to adjust to his slowed reflexes, before exhaustion overtook his limbs, before pain crackled through every nerve ending and his momentum hurled him forward despite it, before a blinding jolt of agony ignited his skin from the tips of his fingers to the cloying stink of burning hair and blackening flesh—
(Is that what it feels like to burn alive? Is that the last thing his mother had felt before she died?)
The minute the nurses leave him alone again, he runs his hands back through his unsinged hair, over his sore but unscarred skin, over the unshattered points of his elbows and knees, before his paling fingers come to press into the meat of his calf. Trembling nails dig into the skin around another small, hard lump.
Where: The hospital, people's respective homes.
When: Gently backdated to May 26th
What: Pietro wakes up after his death on May 20th, checks in with people
Warnings: Graphic description of death by electrocution & fire.
[Closed]
They tell him he was in an accident — a collision, and Pietro thinks, well, at least that is one thing to come out of their mouths that isn't a lie. Not technically speaking. He doesn't remember the impact, but he remembers running. Trees passing swift on his left and right and him believing, stupidly, that's all he would find out there. That the bit of metal he'd found in his leg was just a piece of stray shrapnel the doctors hadn't noticed before, that Poe and Steve had just been playing some kind of uncharacteristically elaborate prank, that of course Wayward Pines is isolated but there couldn't possibly be armed guards around its perimeter.
He remembers the sinking feeling in his gut as his speed abruptly sapped and he'd known they were right. Just before the fence came into view. Just before his feet failed to adjust to his slowed reflexes, before exhaustion overtook his limbs, before pain crackled through every nerve ending and his momentum hurled him forward despite it, before a blinding jolt of agony ignited his skin from the tips of his fingers to the cloying stink of burning hair and blackening flesh—
(Is that what it feels like to burn alive? Is that the last thing his mother had felt before she died?)
The minute the nurses leave him alone again, he runs his hands back through his unsinged hair, over his sore but unscarred skin, over the unshattered points of his elbows and knees, before his paling fingers come to press into the meat of his calf. Trembling nails dig into the skin around another small, hard lump.
no subject
Which is a lot like his own thoughts, actually. It takes him a moment to parse what's his and what isn't, and he tilts his head slightly, pausing for a few obvious seconds before attempting an answer. ]
( The fence. )
[ An answer that's given via direct line into Pietro's brain. The hospital seems like a bad place for gossip. ]
no subject
Did you— [ he starts, and then, realizing the need for discretion, shuts his mouth again. Communicating solely telepathically isn't something he's accustomed to, but he makes an attempt to slow his thoughts the way he does his words. ]
( Didyou touch it? )
[ ... Pietro may have touched it. ]
lmfAO
( I touched it... with my mind, so. )
[ Not sure if that counts. David pauses to consider it, then he starts to slide out of the bed, carefully testing his balance before he takes his hand off the thin mattress. ]
( It wasn't great. )
[ He's pretty sure it was death, actually, and the association makes the voice in Pietro's head feel bitingly wry. David fusses a bit at his gown, crossing his arms defensively before he steps forward. He glances past Pietro towards the door, hesitant, like he's expecting someone to overhear and interrupt. Stupid. When he looks back to Pietro, his eyebrows lift in pointed curiosity. ]
( Did you... ? )
no subject
( Well. I am very fast. )
[ –Which is not answer, but there are only so many ways he can think of explain without making him sound like an idiot. He's very fast, and he can't be held accountable for what happens when other people don't understand that, obviously. ]
( And it is very difficult to slow down when that thing is leeching away your reflexes. )
[ So, yes. Sort of. "Touch" may not be the right word. ]
no subject
[ Thanks for the psychic headaches. That comment's out before he really processes what Pietro's said, and it's followed by a deliberate, bemused pause. ]
( ... you ran into it. )
[ He's trying to picture what that would look like. It isn't a particularly nice thought, even if there's some very sad humor in it. ]
no subject
[ Which is totally different!! And, you know. Horrifically painful in ways he doesn't want to think about any longer. Anyway, wow, can they make this about how David is a loser and not him again please. ]
( How did you manage to electrocute yourself with just your mind, anyway? )
no subject
[ C'mon, pal. Not that David has a leg to stand on, here. He drops his gaze at the question, and the way he tightens his crossed arms and rubs a hand over his mouth is half unpleasant recollection, half embarrassment. ]
( I don't... remember, actually. I mean, that's what they told me. And there was a loud noise, I think, but I was just... tired. )
[ Does that sound better than 'I fainted'. ]
no subject
[ As if Pietro didn't also black out for what he can only guess was the same reason. The fence draining his will to live. He doesn't remember any loud noises, though. (Except for himself hitting the fence, of course.) ]
( What were you trying to do? Do you remember that? )