|Dick Grayson is just wingin it (nightwingingit) wrote in wariscoming,|
@ 2013-12-19 02:32:00
Who:Kon and open to Clark or narrative
Warnings:None, just dealing with injury feels.
It was freezing was an understatement. He didn't realize how cold the world was, thanks to his powers he rarely felt the weather. It had it's ups and downs, specifically in the summer. There were times he longed to feel the sun, not just it's rejuvenating powers. He wanted to feel heat waves while surfing Hawaii's famous beaches, not the frozen Arctic snow. He had on several layers and was still shivering, it wasn't a pleasant feeling. Nor was it that he practically had to hold Clark's hand to fly there. He wasn't used to being so dependent. It was beyond frustrating. He'd always gone off to do his own thing, always. And suddenly everywhere he turned someone was hovering. It was a little overwhelming. Escapades to the Fortress meant a little freedom at least. Surprisingly even, far less tests than he had expected. He was grateful. He felt enough like a fish under glass as it was. He understood everyone was worried, but so was he. To have the extra worried energies around only made him worry more lately. Only put him on edge.
The Fortress was a breath of fresh air and once he stopped feeling like an icicle long enough to appreciate it he was able to breathe. He had spent the last few days doing nothing but worrying over whether or not he was going to heal it felt like a kryptonite weight on his chest at times. He still worried, but now he could focus on his own worry instead of everyone else's. Like they were all telling him to do anyway. He was supposed to be focusing on himself, but he found it harder and harder to do with the approaching apocalypse. He was worried. Did it mean they all went home and lost everything they'd been fighting for? Did it mean peace or anarchy when Lucifer was finally wrenched out of hell and into is cage? What did it mean?
What did it mean for him? He'd been living in Kansas so long now, long before any one of his friends had shown and he felt totally useless. He couldn't see and that was what he relied on the most. What good was he going to be in a fight for the world if he couldn't use his primary senses?
The Fortress was quiet, Kon had the mp3 player Robin had bought him in his jacket pocket but he didn't put it on. He thumbed at it idly and walked through the icy halls. He focused on hearing what was there, and more importantly what wasn't. What was in the empty spaces. Walls, corners, ice.
Not a single heart beat in that opening. If he focused enough he could tell where every creature that inhabited the Fortress actually was. Including Clark. When he was able to focus he didn't feel nearly so hopeless. It was when they all collided was the problem. When he'd focused as long as he could and they all began to mix together because he couldn't see them that he panicked. Every scuffle every creature made or extra beat of the heart began to pound in his ears. He fell to the ground on his knees and punched it with a balled fist causing it to crack. Then silence followed. His face felt hot with emotion.
Pure frustration. Pure anger. Pure failure.
He'd put on an act for so long since the injury it finally crumbled, and so did he. Just sitting there in the open corridor with his head in his hands. There was no one to put on a show for, no one to be brave for and in that selfish moment he was glad. He couldn't stop the tears from falling down his face, he was glad no one was there to catch them.