[ Sam isn't far behind Barnes, having jumped out right after him, and while he is Cylon, he isn't a super soldier. It takes some time before he's pushing through the crowd of onlookers and fleeing victims, possibly knocking a few down on his way, but the urgency pounding in his mind, steve's consciousness flickering and fading, and the still burning wound of Anakin's loss, pushes him too much to care.
he'd watched it, as much as he could, through Steve's eyes, enough to see Ren brewing into a violent storm, and to feel it when steve pieces together the Darkling's involvement. how he'd fed it. ren and steve were never on good terms, but this outsider had pushed until they were near losing one more piece of their fraying web. maybe Ren's tantrum would've happened either way, maybe he would've still attacked steve, but come so close to killing him? sam has every intention of stay the frak away from my family talk happening, if not drop kicking the man right off the Bearings balcony, but that's a secondary concern. right now, it's ren. it's making sure this brood doesn't fracture any further than it already has.
bursting into the arena, now mostly emptied of the others, sam's eyes move to steve first, his body prone on the floor. skidding over, sam's mind reaches for him, trying to find a whisper of life in him, and feels for a pulse, though he's fairly sure they'd all feel it if he'd died. it's there, and while that doesn't save him from concussion or brain damage, it's enough that ren, the still raging earthquake that he is, becomes the more immediate priority. with barnes in the equation, savage and brutal with his attacks, sam knows it's only a matter of time before the Force comes into play here, and then the both of them as screwed, as is anyone else left in this building. reasoning with him is out of the question, so he comes to the one unfortunate conclusion. ]
(Block us out, get out of the building.) [ Sam sends out to every Nestmate in the building, save for Ren, though he's half convinced he wouldn't even be heard. Ren occupied with Barnes, Sam comes up to his back, arms reaching around to pin his to his sides, and the one hand snaps out to grip Bucky's metal wrist, just as it starts to pull back from a punch. ] Sorry, I need this.
[ it starts immediately, like the roof of the building, the sky above, and the floor below all crack open at once, shattering easy as delicate glass, letting the entirety of the universe around them rush in, cold and dark and suffocating, and at the same time, full to the point it's incomprehensible. The arm in his hand twists, metal moving by itself, and detaches from the hub at Bucky's shoulder, freeing him from the immediate weight of this feeling. The other hand comes up to slap over Ren's eyes, and it all floods in.
the glimpses of fading, hazed memories of this that Kylo Ren had dug through when the two of them first met are nothing in comparison to the real weight of it. a grain of sand on a beach. Immense beyond comprehension, all the secrets of this world and the next and the next, of time unending, of the billions of souls around them slamming through what weak fortitude simple, sentient minds have in comparison. Sam's own mind, even with the years it's withstood and the capacity Cylon nature allows it, bends, gives way in what's more welcoming than anything else, and shatters, brittle in the face of the surge of knowledge and awareness. the chaos of creation so pure, ancient and true that no order could tame it, and at the same time, the kind of absolution one finds in nirvana, in the peace of sleep or death, in the warm touch that's felt the moment you discover love. it's no longer sam pulling ren into it, but the whole of what's taken sam's mind, and the blinding glow of divinity, intelligent design that can't quite be seen in perfect focus, at the edges of it all - a wormhole opened in too small a space. it reaches and drags him down, the gravity of a blackhole, pulling all matter around it to a center where it all collides and melds together - time and space a fused mess of a layered abstraction. anyone still connected to kylo ren's mind right now is likely to get sucked in with it, and broken under the destructive vortex of it. so, darkling, if you're still there, better get gone before your eyes start bleeding or something.
all the while, sam's prophetic trance has kicked into gear, and he's mindlessly murmuring the pieces and slivers of understanding that pass through his splintered consciousness, eyes vacant. ]
A push, a shove, duality like a pendulum, must always swing back. Mother's fear like an anchor around a child's waist, radiant darkness and slow disaster, feeding and festering. A false idol in helm and cowl, end of line. [ touch always makes this that much worse, that much more personal, and somewhere, in whatever plane sam's consciousness still exists on, waiting to return when the flood clears, he's hoping Ren's either passed out or too bombarded to hear him. because something brushes, now. the center of it. the aching wound, old and infected and gone so long needing treatment that it may need to be amputated all together. anakin skywalker. darth vadar. ] He, too, returned from the fall. Mangled and ruined. Corruption feeds on minds, not blood, Ben.
[ a pause, sam's face lifted up, like he sees so far beyond the ceiling above him, and slowly, his head tilts, until eyes that are lost in the kaleidoscope of creation fall directly onto the Darkling, the last sentence spoken loud enough to be overheard. ]
The Shadow is next.
[ with that, he's out, crumpling to the floor and likely taking Kylo Ren with him. ]
oooohohohoho
he'd watched it, as much as he could, through Steve's eyes, enough to see Ren brewing into a violent storm, and to feel it when steve pieces together the Darkling's involvement. how he'd fed it. ren and steve were never on good terms, but this outsider had pushed until they were near losing one more piece of their fraying web. maybe Ren's tantrum would've happened either way, maybe he would've still attacked steve, but come so close to killing him? sam has every intention of stay the frak away from my family talk happening, if not drop kicking the man right off the Bearings balcony, but that's a secondary concern. right now, it's ren. it's making sure this brood doesn't fracture any further than it already has.
bursting into the arena, now mostly emptied of the others, sam's eyes move to steve first, his body prone on the floor. skidding over, sam's mind reaches for him, trying to find a whisper of life in him, and feels for a pulse, though he's fairly sure they'd all feel it if he'd died. it's there, and while that doesn't save him from concussion or brain damage, it's enough that ren, the still raging earthquake that he is, becomes the more immediate priority. with barnes in the equation, savage and brutal with his attacks, sam knows it's only a matter of time before the Force comes into play here, and then the both of them as screwed, as is anyone else left in this building. reasoning with him is out of the question, so he comes to the one unfortunate conclusion. ]
( Block us out, get out of the building. ) [ Sam sends out to every Nestmate in the building, save for Ren, though he's half convinced he wouldn't even be heard. Ren occupied with Barnes, Sam comes up to his back, arms reaching around to pin his to his sides, and the one hand snaps out to grip Bucky's metal wrist, just as it starts to pull back from a punch. ] Sorry, I need this.
[ it starts immediately, like the roof of the building, the sky above, and the floor below all crack open at once, shattering easy as delicate glass, letting the entirety of the universe around them rush in, cold and dark and suffocating, and at the same time, full to the point it's incomprehensible. The arm in his hand twists, metal moving by itself, and detaches from the hub at Bucky's shoulder, freeing him from the immediate weight of this feeling. The other hand comes up to slap over Ren's eyes, and it all floods in.
the glimpses of fading, hazed memories of this that Kylo Ren had dug through when the two of them first met are nothing in comparison to the real weight of it. a grain of sand on a beach. Immense beyond comprehension, all the secrets of this world and the next and the next, of time unending, of the billions of souls around them slamming through what weak fortitude simple, sentient minds have in comparison. Sam's own mind, even with the years it's withstood and the capacity Cylon nature allows it, bends, gives way in what's more welcoming than anything else, and shatters, brittle in the face of the surge of knowledge and awareness. the chaos of creation so pure, ancient and true that no order could tame it, and at the same time, the kind of absolution one finds in nirvana, in the peace of sleep or death, in the warm touch that's felt the moment you discover love. it's no longer sam pulling ren into it, but the whole of what's taken sam's mind, and the blinding glow of divinity, intelligent design that can't quite be seen in perfect focus, at the edges of it all - a wormhole opened in too small a space. it reaches and drags him down, the gravity of a blackhole, pulling all matter around it to a center where it all collides and melds together - time and space a fused mess of a layered abstraction. anyone still connected to kylo ren's mind right now is likely to get sucked in with it, and broken under the destructive vortex of it. so, darkling, if you're still there, better get gone before your eyes start bleeding or something.
all the while, sam's prophetic trance has kicked into gear, and he's mindlessly murmuring the pieces and slivers of understanding that pass through his splintered consciousness, eyes vacant. ]
A push, a shove, duality like a pendulum, must always swing back. Mother's fear like an anchor around a child's waist, radiant darkness and slow disaster, feeding and festering. A false idol in helm and cowl, end of line. [ touch always makes this that much worse, that much more personal, and somewhere, in whatever plane sam's consciousness still exists on, waiting to return when the flood clears, he's hoping Ren's either passed out or too bombarded to hear him. because something brushes, now. the center of it. the aching wound, old and infected and gone so long needing treatment that it may need to be amputated all together. anakin skywalker. darth vadar. ] He, too, returned from the fall. Mangled and ruined. Corruption feeds on minds, not blood, Ben.
[ a pause, sam's face lifted up, like he sees so far beyond the ceiling above him, and slowly, his head tilts, until eyes that are lost in the kaleidoscope of creation fall directly onto the Darkling, the last sentence spoken loud enough to be overheard. ]
The Shadow is next.
[ with that, he's out, crumpling to the floor and likely taking Kylo Ren with him. ]