█ ᴍᴀᴛᴛ "ᶠᵃᵏᵉ ᵃˢˢ ᵇᶤᵗᶜʰ" ᴍᴜʀᴅᴏᴄᴋ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fogwells) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
riverviewlogs2017-08-12 08:22 pm
fogwells) wrote in riverviewlogs2017-08-12 08:22 pm
( open ) sometimes i need the dark so i can see the light
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
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 ...
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?
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. ]
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. ]
no subject
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. ]