[ Murphy's memories run searing hot where Bellamy's carry a clinical chill. They make a muddle of his thoughts, starting from the familiar pull of a collar and ending with his own face mirrored back at him in Arkadia, a lifetime ago, before he'd done everything wrong. And in between then and now there was just different types of pain. Bellamy's fingers curl into fists against the memory of a blade at his fingertips, shuddering hard as the attendant touches his shoulder. It's difficult to relax enough to ease back against the pillows, even with the cautionary tale of the cages beneath Mount Weather and the heavy drag of a sedative to remind him why it's best to heed this instruction. This isn't Mount Weather, but it's hard to get enough distance for that understanding to take effect.
For a split second, Murphy's voice blurs with Maya's, faces overlapping as his name echoes. For a moment, Bellamy retreats and the point of contact between them narrows as he grasps for composure. He can feel Murphy, driving a wrench into the flow of remembered trauma with something shared, with a familiar, safer sensation. It distracts. Bellamy takes a breath, eyes focusing on the attendant trying to get him to take a sip of water.
He reaches back to Murphy as if winding his fingers back through a rope, tugging gently. He's embarrassed, ashamed at what's been revealed. He'd never been the only one in Arkadia with nightmares, but they had always been his own. They'd never been shared until he came here, and he was aware his brood, if not the nest, was close enough to feel them unless they turned their minds away.
Murphy hadn't. Bellamy can't drum up the strength to be angry, or he can't just yet. Murphy had held on and dragged Bellamy out of his head. Bellamy's thoughts skip briefly to the ledge, feet bracing against smooth stone with only a single length of rope keeping him and his charge from falling. This feels similar. ]
(I'm here.)
[ And sorry, though that's hardly worth anything to note. The regret is palpable, even if Bellamy doesn't manage to form the word. ]
no subject
For a split second, Murphy's voice blurs with Maya's, faces overlapping as his name echoes. For a moment, Bellamy retreats and the point of contact between them narrows as he grasps for composure. He can feel Murphy, driving a wrench into the flow of remembered trauma with something shared, with a familiar, safer sensation. It distracts. Bellamy takes a breath, eyes focusing on the attendant trying to get him to take a sip of water.
He reaches back to Murphy as if winding his fingers back through a rope, tugging gently. He's embarrassed, ashamed at what's been revealed. He'd never been the only one in Arkadia with nightmares, but they had always been his own. They'd never been shared until he came here, and he was aware his brood, if not the nest, was close enough to feel them unless they turned their minds away.
Murphy hadn't. Bellamy can't drum up the strength to be angry, or he can't just yet. Murphy had held on and dragged Bellamy out of his head. Bellamy's thoughts skip briefly to the ledge, feet bracing against smooth stone with only a single length of rope keeping him and his charge from falling. This feels similar. ]
( I'm here. )
[ And sorry, though that's hardly worth anything to note. The regret is palpable, even if Bellamy doesn't manage to form the word. ]