Who: Logan (open to anyone) What: Losing control Where: His room to start. When: Before dawn Rating: TBD (Be warned he's prone to violence right now) Status: in progress
Blood. The scent was all around him, he was covered in it, whether it be his own or from the bodies that lay in remains around him he didn't know. Though he would bet on both. He knew it was a dream, but it was so real. The blood, he could feel it, smell it, hell he could taste it. That wasn't the only thing he could smell though. Gunpowder hung in the air. He saw the uniforms of the soldiers that were around him and new they were from the past, his past.
Someone was approaching, a woman. The scent was familiar. He seemed to calm at her presence. As she reached him she touched his shoulder and the panting stopped. This dream, memory, whatever the hell it was he'd never had before. But he knew it was real. "Logan.. it's okay Logan. We need to go."
Her hand trailed down his arm until her fingers linked through his and she was tugging him forward. With just a nod he followed her, there was trust. He felt it but didn't understand it. They jumped into a Humvee and took off. Her eyes stayed on the road. Short, sleek black hair, penetrating blue eyes. The woman was beautiful, absolutely striking. He could barely take his eyes off of her.
"You did good out there. Just hold on a few more minutes and we'll be back at the base." Her hand rest over his and squeezed. He sat there quietly for what seemed like forever until the vehicle came to a stop. When it did she leaned over and kissed him.
At that very moment Logan's eyes sprung open. The scent didn't click but the way she kissed him combined with it, the fog cleared. It was Mystique. Her scent was always familiar to him and he never knew why. Could it be, were they involved. Did they know each other long ago? He rest his head in his hands and that was when he noticed it. The bed was torn to shreds and his claws were out.
Six indents were in his hairline, trickles of blood, his blood slid down his face, dropping off the bridge of his nose. Others made tracks down his cheeks. Then like darkness he felt it creeping up on him. The mental battle he'd been fighting for weeks had caught up to him and the inevitable loss was upon him. He had to get out of there. Getting up he was still in his jeans and undershirt he shoved his feet in his boots and opened the window. He was only on the second floor. From the window he jumped and landed on the ground below. Thankfully no one saw it.
He shook his head like a confused dog, his brows knit as he stood and then he ran. There was nothing left to do. He had to run, before he hurt someone. That he couldn't live with. The battle was being lost fast. The last threads of his mind he felt snap every few seconds. It wouldn't be long at all. He needed to find somewhere he couldn't hurt anyone until this passed. There had to be woods or something nearby. He needed to find it.