neverfeltthatway (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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synopsychic2017-09-13 12:12 am
neverfeltthatway) wrote in synopsychic2017-09-13 12:12 am
Private, Psychic Protection II
Who: Armin, Eren, Mikasa, Alcuin, Thorne
What: Armin instinctively reaching out to those he's closest to as his mind begins to awaken and reform
Where: The telepathic network
When: Sometime during the 24 hours after his death
Warnings: Many. Death, madness, possible talk of torture
For an eternity, there is nothing. No light or dark, no space or matter, no life or death. Nothing but the formless void. He barely knows he exists, much less who or what or where he is.
Time passes.
Then there are flashes, as disjointed memories begin to return. Only memories... but right now that are everything, all he is and all he knows. Fear. Pain. Betrayal. Madness.
The Crawling Chaos.
As his mind begins to coalesce, panic sets in, once he remembers what panic is. Where is he? What is he? Is he truly alone? He doesn't know. He only knows he should be afraid.
More flashes. Space, and light, and form, and feeling. Needles, maggots, crawling, blood. His mind writhes. A face, somehow familiar, beloved - twisted in hatred, slashing at him with a meat cleaver, trying to kill him.
What is hate? What is love?
More faces, striping his nails from his fingers, digging his eyes out with their hands. Insects under his skin.
Identity forms. He is Armin. The faces are his friends. They were never his friends. Footsteps. What are friends? The concept is beyond him.
He reaches for something, for someone, now knowing who, not knowing how. He needs. No. There's something he needs to do. He needs to... to... to warn. Warn of what? What does he need?
It's too late to figure out - he grasps whoever or whatever he was trying to reach.
"Hello? I... I... Where are you? What am I?"
What: Armin instinctively reaching out to those he's closest to as his mind begins to awaken and reform
Where: The telepathic network
When: Sometime during the 24 hours after his death
Warnings: Many. Death, madness, possible talk of torture
For an eternity, there is nothing. No light or dark, no space or matter, no life or death. Nothing but the formless void. He barely knows he exists, much less who or what or where he is.
Time passes.
Then there are flashes, as disjointed memories begin to return. Only memories... but right now that are everything, all he is and all he knows. Fear. Pain. Betrayal. Madness.
The Crawling Chaos.
As his mind begins to coalesce, panic sets in, once he remembers what panic is. Where is he? What is he? Is he truly alone? He doesn't know. He only knows he should be afraid.
More flashes. Space, and light, and form, and feeling. Needles, maggots, crawling, blood. His mind writhes. A face, somehow familiar, beloved - twisted in hatred, slashing at him with a meat cleaver, trying to kill him.
What is hate? What is love?
More faces, striping his nails from his fingers, digging his eyes out with their hands. Insects under his skin.
Identity forms. He is Armin. The faces are his friends. They were never his friends. Footsteps. What are friends? The concept is beyond him.
He reaches for something, for someone, now knowing who, not knowing how. He needs. No. There's something he needs to do. He needs to... to... to warn. Warn of what? What does he need?
It's too late to figure out - he grasps whoever or whatever he was trying to reach.
"Hello? I... I... Where are you? What am I?"