[It's a good question, would be something good to focus on, if it doesn't slide Ellie's mind sideways into how they reunited. She tastes the bile in the back of her throat, and it comes fast, though she manages to swallow it back.
The sensory memory of the scent of seawater, of rot, of blood and waste and algae. Of blood slowly running in rivulets across the floor and a numb screaming in her ears.
Ellie stops, pale as a ghost, and takes a deep breath. She's not going to freak out in front of Lance. She's not. Another deep breath. It hurts, and makes her remember Owen's death rattle as she pressed her gun to his throat, without an ounce of hesitation or remorse. How wild she'd felt, how angry, before she made out what he was trying to say.]
... yeah.
[Focus.]
Yeah. Yeah, he made it, we brought him home.
[Her words feel detached, and Ellie makes herself stop, closes her eyes to breathe. Not here, not now. She closes her trembling hands into fists and walks herself back from the mental edge, but she can feel how unsteady she is.]
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timeasmymeasure
cw: violence
Date: 2021-03-13 05:07 am (UTC)The sensory memory of the scent of seawater, of rot, of blood and waste and algae. Of blood slowly running in rivulets across the floor and a numb screaming in her ears.
Ellie stops, pale as a ghost, and takes a deep breath. She's not going to freak out in front of Lance. She's not. Another deep breath. It hurts, and makes her remember Owen's death rattle as she pressed her gun to his throat, without an ounce of hesitation or remorse. How wild she'd felt, how angry, before she made out what he was trying to say.]
... yeah.
[Focus.]
Yeah. Yeah, he made it, we brought him home.
[Her words feel detached, and Ellie makes herself stop, closes her eyes to breathe. Not here, not now. She closes her trembling hands into fists and walks herself back from the mental edge, but she can feel how unsteady she is.]
We gotta stop. Sorry.