Yes, [ she says, and tries to stay steady. tries not to lean too far away from the back of her seat, tries not to twitch at every sound. her fingers start to flex and she clenches them into fists instead. for a moment she tries to explain, tries to open her mouth and let the words flow out, but they won't come. she's never had to explain this before, she doesn't know how.
but maybe she doesn't have to. ness looks up and catches stephen's eye, asking with her gaze if she can enter his mind and tell him there, instead. whatever she sees on his face is the permission she needs, even if it wasn't really.
the walls around minds are permeable, she's learning. not for most, not for the vast majority of peopleβbut once you learn how to look, you can see the holes, the places you can slide out of your own consciousness and into someone else's. doing it on command is a difficult proposition, one she still hasn't gotten the hang of, but she's under duress and she doesn't want to use her words, so: telepathy.
she slips through the walls of her own mind and pours herself into stephen's, instead, poking and prodding until she finds a hole in the wall to slip through. she's small, there, doesn't want to take up too much space, not here to intrude, just to show: the terror of the abduction, the horror of looking a mindflayer in the eye and seeing something soulless stare back.
watching the people you traveled with, some you'd known for years, get a tadpole urged into their eyes, knowing it would be your turn, soon.
the ship you're in jolts, rocks, tumbles you away from the mindflayers and straight into a vat of brine. you keep your eyes shut but inhale a mouthful of the liquid and you don't know it but in that moment something inside of you wakes up, or changes, or wakes up and changes.
you cough brine out of your lungs and when you open your eyes the mindflayers don't care about you anymore. you're too smart to really think you're free, but you hope anyway.
what a stupid thing to do.
the first stab is such a shock you don't even feel it. you only know you've been impaled when you feel your stomach get wet and look down to find a blade sticking out of you. you make some stupid noise of surprise, and the blade disappears, and this time you feel it when it pierces your ribcage, and then again when it punctures a lung.
you fall to your knees, then your front, gasping and coughing up blood. your sight dims, and the aliens who killed you slit the throat of the merchant you've known since you were seven. they're going to kill everyone.
you want your father. you'd call out for him, but all you can manage is a faint, gurgling rattle. you're dying. it's a very calm thought, but maybe that's because you're so tired you can't be alarmed anymore. you hurt, but you know if you close your eyes, it'll be over soon. you want it to be over. everything is getting so cold.
you close your eyes.
ness pulls away from stephen's mind and has to press her hand to her stomach, to her breast. no wounds. no scars, even, to suggest she'd ever been injured at all. ]
cw description of death, trauma dumping
Yes, [ she says, and tries to stay steady. tries not to lean too far away from the back of her seat, tries not to twitch at every sound. her fingers start to flex and she clenches them into fists instead. for a moment she tries to explain, tries to open her mouth and let the words flow out, but they won't come. she's never had to explain this before, she doesn't know how.
but maybe she doesn't have to. ness looks up and catches stephen's eye, asking with her gaze if she can enter his mind and tell him there, instead. whatever she sees on his face is the permission she needs, even if it wasn't really.
the walls around minds are permeable, she's learning. not for most, not for the vast majority of peopleβbut once you learn how to look, you can see the holes, the places you can slide out of your own consciousness and into someone else's. doing it on command is a difficult proposition, one she still hasn't gotten the hang of, but she's under duress and she doesn't want to use her words, so: telepathy.
she slips through the walls of her own mind and pours herself into stephen's, instead, poking and prodding until she finds a hole in the wall to slip through. she's small, there, doesn't want to take up too much space, not here to intrude, just to show: the terror of the abduction, the horror of looking a mindflayer in the eye and seeing something soulless stare back.
watching the people you traveled with, some you'd known for years, get a tadpole urged into their eyes, knowing it would be your turn, soon.
the ship you're in jolts, rocks, tumbles you away from the mindflayers and straight into a vat of brine. you keep your eyes shut but inhale a mouthful of the liquid and you don't know it but in that moment something inside of you wakes up, or changes, or wakes up and changes.
you cough brine out of your lungs and when you open your eyes the mindflayers don't care about you anymore. you're too smart to really think you're free, but you hope anyway.
what a stupid thing to do.
the first stab is such a shock you don't even feel it. you only know you've been impaled when you feel your stomach get wet and look down to find a blade sticking out of you. you make some stupid noise of surprise, and the blade disappears, and this time you feel it when it pierces your ribcage, and then again when it punctures a lung.
you fall to your knees, then your front, gasping and coughing up blood. your sight dims, and the aliens who killed you slit the throat of the merchant you've known since you were seven. they're going to kill everyone.
you want your father. you'd call out for him, but all you can manage is a faint, gurgling rattle. you're dying. it's a very calm thought, but maybe that's because you're so tired you can't be alarmed anymore. you hurt, but you know if you close your eyes, it'll be over soon. you want it to be over. everything is getting so cold.
you close your eyes.
ness pulls away from stephen's mind and has to press her hand to her stomach, to her breast. no wounds. no scars, even, to suggest she'd ever been injured at all. ]