![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
Who: Kevin and Piotr
What: Piotr bringing Kevin extra clothes
When: Tuesday evening/night
Where: Kevin's room
Rating: proooobably R for Kevin's language, 'cause he's got a potty mouth
Kevin had curled himself into a corner of 'his' room, uncomfortably certain it was the same one he'd been assigned when he'd come here originally as an optimistic eleven year old. Same ceramic tile floors replacing the original wood. Same walls painted over with a thick layer of blue vinyl paint when the rest of the house had a combination of wood paneling and tasteful wallpapers. The same room they'd made 'safe' for him eight years ago.
Except it wasn't safe anymore, and it hadn't been home for seven years now, and he sat with his back pressed to the wall, looking disconsolately at the fine layer of ash coating almost everything in the room just from his presence. He didn't need to look down to know that his shirt had gone from slightly worn through threadbare and straight to falling apart in just the last hour since he'd put it on, and his pants weren't much better.
Bare skin he couldn't afford to have on display was showing at shoulder and wrist, thigh and ankle, ash laying thick where the fabric had simply dissolved. He'd always been safe with inorganics before this, but now...now nothing was safe. Even the tile had a dull cast to it, the highly polished sheen of its surface gone not because if the layer of ash coating it, but because his powers had worn the polished top layer away.
He was, quite honestly, terrified. The problem was, he'd already found out the hard way that he couldn't afford fear. Or anger. Or even surprise, really. Any kind of strong emotion, since they all seemed to read the same to his powers: go into overdrive and destroy everything in range, please. He'd already gone through every spare article of inorganic clothing he owned that way, and if it happened again before Pete got there it was going to end with him naked.
So he sat, elbows on his knees and head tipped forward onto his crossed forearms, and tried to stay calm. Tried not to let the thought that he would never touch anyone, ever again, permeate his consciousness and send him back into a mindless panic.
What: Piotr bringing Kevin extra clothes
When: Tuesday evening/night
Where: Kevin's room
Rating: proooobably R for Kevin's language, 'cause he's got a potty mouth
Kevin had curled himself into a corner of 'his' room, uncomfortably certain it was the same one he'd been assigned when he'd come here originally as an optimistic eleven year old. Same ceramic tile floors replacing the original wood. Same walls painted over with a thick layer of blue vinyl paint when the rest of the house had a combination of wood paneling and tasteful wallpapers. The same room they'd made 'safe' for him eight years ago.
Except it wasn't safe anymore, and it hadn't been home for seven years now, and he sat with his back pressed to the wall, looking disconsolately at the fine layer of ash coating almost everything in the room just from his presence. He didn't need to look down to know that his shirt had gone from slightly worn through threadbare and straight to falling apart in just the last hour since he'd put it on, and his pants weren't much better.
Bare skin he couldn't afford to have on display was showing at shoulder and wrist, thigh and ankle, ash laying thick where the fabric had simply dissolved. He'd always been safe with inorganics before this, but now...now nothing was safe. Even the tile had a dull cast to it, the highly polished sheen of its surface gone not because if the layer of ash coating it, but because his powers had worn the polished top layer away.
He was, quite honestly, terrified. The problem was, he'd already found out the hard way that he couldn't afford fear. Or anger. Or even surprise, really. Any kind of strong emotion, since they all seemed to read the same to his powers: go into overdrive and destroy everything in range, please. He'd already gone through every spare article of inorganic clothing he owned that way, and if it happened again before Pete got there it was going to end with him naked.
So he sat, elbows on his knees and head tipped forward onto his crossed forearms, and tried to stay calm. Tried not to let the thought that he would never touch anyone, ever again, permeate his consciousness and send him back into a mindless panic.
