( open ) sometimes i need the dark so i can see the light

[fogwells]

who: Matt Murdock
what: Matt forgets he's been blind, experiencing it for the first time all over again.
when: August 12th or anytime during the Amnesia event
where: (closed) His apartment, (open) SkyTram or anywhere really
warnings: some accidental cuts, a lot of emotional pain

I █ (closed to jessica jones) APARTMENT

[ The glass shatters. He feels shards propel against his bare feet, sharp edges cutting against the top layer of skin. The pain amplifies there more than it should, but it isn't at the center of his mind.

Because all is dark.

His breath quickens, panic swelling in the core of his chest as his heart pounds with deeper anxiety. He can't see. He hears footsteps like they're against his ears and miles away all at once, sirens go off from every direction, vibrations of movement echoing from all sides. But he can't see.

He rubs hard at his eyes, but it's futile effort. Everything is dark, dark, as if all the light in the world had been swallowed away in a single beat. He reaches out for something to grab, his balance more sensitive than it's ever been, his palm pressing flat against the wall to keep himself from tipping over. Lips quiver as he tries to look at his surroundings in a desperate frenzy. Everything black, black, black —

No, not black. Red? Is this hell, he thinks. And he's so sure it should be. Somehow he's so sure of a thousand mistakes he's made, mistakes he can't remember but that he's somehow confident exists. If this is hell, he belongs here, the fire a perfect setting for a devil like him.

Finally, he screams, his voice as loud as it can go, somehow even louder in his own ears than he remembers himself capable. ]

Help! Is someone — someone, help! I can't — [ His breath catches in his throat, his fists banging against the wall, the vibrations of the connection between fist and plaster pounding at his ears. ] I can't see ...

II █ (open) SKYTRAM

[ His ears pop, again and again, as the bullet car rushes fast along the tracks. The shaking of the rails are the most prominent sound he can catch, making it difficult to focus on anything else. But he does catch voices, a muttering here and there from any seat in this car, and several in others too, he's convinced.

Clutching tighter to his cane, he remains mostly still in his seat, head bent down to keep his ears out, trying to get a sense of his location. But everything moves too fast, too much is happening all at once for him to focus on anything at all.

He takes a deep breath, teeth chewing subtly at his bottom lip before he tries to find composure. Turning his body, he can make out a vague shape of a person sitting nearby, a red haze forming the silhouette of them. ] Excuse me. Do you know where we are?

III █ (open) WILD CARD

[ He can't keep still in his apartment. Taking his cane that he's already had in his possession for reasons unknown, he wanders through the streets, trying to make sense of his lack of his sight. He's blind, but somehow, not entirely, able to make out shapes in burning red hues, but struggling to decipher the what and how of it all.

He paces sidewalks, enters in and out of buildings, with no real direction, no real motive, other than keeping his ears open to the overwhelming sounds around him in an attempt to filter them one by one. And he'll continue to walk, pacing endlessly, at least until someone can stop him in his steps. ]

Comments

[fogwells]

[ She says it so plainly, so confidently, and somehow Matt knows it. It's the tone of her voice, the aggravated air of it, that makes the identity of the woman clear — Jessica Jones. He'd spoken to her, hadn't he? The aggressive woman who'd led him to his door when he'd ask.

Why did he ask? He can't remember.

But his panting breaths don't cease, his head swiftly turning to all directions, trying to make sense of the hazy darkness. ]

No. No, I wasn't ... [ He shakes his head, trying to maintain a calm demeanor in his tone, but the shakiness of it betrays him. ] This just happened. This just — gah! [ He groans in wincing pain, his eyes clamping shut as his palms press tight over his ears.

Shouting. He could hear everyone shouting. A cluster of voices coming together to form nothing but nonsensical sentences, a continuous ringing that he can't seem to will away. ]

[hardedged]

[ she doesn't know what to do. for the first time since her arrival, jessica feels helpless. his affliction doesn't appear physical; she can't merely punch the problem away. a moving vehicle, she can stop, and an arrogant robber, she can knock unconscious. no, he's struggling with personal demons, and for a reason she doesn't comprehend, her moronic neighbor is oblivious to his lack of sight. with a gruff exhale, she steps forward, reaching out to cup his face with her hands. ]

Hey. [ perhaps it's a foolish move on her part, but before she can reconsider, her fingers brush over the stubble on his chin as she holds him in place. ] Just listen, alright?

[ trish has always been better at this — helping others, showing sincere emotion. but goddammit, she can't stand aside and watch someone else suffer. ]

Take a deep breath. And focus on me.

[fogwells]

[ Everything remains loud — voices, sirens, footsteps, crying, clanking, yelling — all of it condensing into an endless rumble at his ears. Matt wants to scream, fighting the urge that beats at him from the inside. Make it stop, he wants to say, his mouth gaping wide and his palms pressing so tightly to his ears that a headache looms in result.

But her fingers are so sudden, the slipping of them against his cheek leaving him so surprised that his breath holds. Eyes blink rapidly, catching her voice integrating into focus between the rest of the noise.

Listen, she says, and he does. Take a deep breath.

While shaky in its execution, he does breathe, air filling up his lungs quickly, almost gasping as though it was the first breath he'd taken at all. Slowly, the world silences around him, everything filtering out until it's only her voice he hears. The shapes in front of him shift until it's her that he sees, still in a hazy blur, but it's her, the contours of her nose and mouth almost visible.

His breaths slows, growing more steady as he finds an anchor to steer him from the rest of the chaotic noise. A beating sound still remains in his head and he thinks for a moment it's his own heart, only his had been more frantic, more out of rhythm.

His voice still shakes, but it's quieter as he whispers. ] I hear — I hear your heart.

[hardedged]

[ her heart. he can hear her heart. and it's true — it's thumping wildly in her chest, loud enough for even jess to register it. not as frantic as his, perhaps, but significant, all the same. her fingers still grip each side of matt's face, refusing to release him. not until she can trust that he's sufficiently stable.

there's a moment of silence, where her anxiety is palpable. his proximity brings her discomfort, though she makes a valiant effort to suppress it. no matter their differences, he needs her now. and while she's never envisioned herself as a hero, jess won't abandon him in this state.

her posture is uncertain, her shoulders tense. but jessica's gaze never leaves his expression. swallowing hard, she listens to her own advice and takes a deep breath. ]

You're gonna be okay.

[fogwells]

[ It's strange but he somehow feels it. In her heart, her breaths, he can tell of her uncertainty. Or maybe it's his own, he can hardly tell when there's so much in his head at once, when he's trying to filter out the world around him while trying to find some sheer focal point.

Only he does find one, his wonder of her steering his mind from everything else to the woman in front of him, to warm hands pressing over his cheeks.

He'd be alone, screaming, utterly hopeless in a world of nothing but endless black. Yet her presence gradually slips in an ease of mind, with comfort that there's someone here, that he isn't lost in some terrible nightmare alone. His voice momentarily catches in his throat, his breath still fast and uneasy.

But his hands slide over her wrists, a gentle touch, slow as his fingers rest over her knuckles. ] I can't see you, but I — [ Can sense something. Where he is in proximity to him, her beating heart, the faint liquor on her breath, the weight of her emotions. ]