[ how many times has he found himself standing in front of a mirror, trying to push bullets from where they're embedded deep in his skin? logan had wondered if there'd ever be a time where he wouldn't find himself here, bloodying an otherwise clean sink, staring at a mirror he only wants to crack. it's always been a difficult, painful process, but it feels worse now — the bullets don't particularly will themselves out, as if under the control of magneto's will, but seem to sit, as if waiting for something. ]
[ perhaps his mutation properly kicking in. it's waiting for him to flick some switch, although he's not sure where it is or even how to flick it. ]
[ he stays there, upright, for as long as she's out, and even when she returns. he's got the tweezers in hand, bloodied now from how he's dug into himself for the shrapnel, and silver pieces sit in the sink, staining it with bits of blood. his chest is a mess of broken flesh, but he makes no noise on trying to treat it. one thing at a time — get the bullets out, see if that unplugs his mutation. he can only hope for the best, given now he has a reason to ensure he's in tip top shape. ]
[ for a moment he doesn't acknowledge her, trying to push through all that familiar pain stinging under his skin. looking over his shoulder at her haul of clothes, he doesn't spend much time sizing it up. ] Thanks. [ his eyes flicker to her, fingers gripping the basin hard. ]
[ it feels unbalanced, her looking out for him, and so he inhales and decides it's about time he took a little more control. ] When was the last time you ate?
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branchandroot
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Date: 2017-04-12 10:15 am (UTC)[ perhaps his mutation properly kicking in. it's waiting for him to flick some switch, although he's not sure where it is or even how to flick it. ]
[ he stays there, upright, for as long as she's out, and even when she returns. he's got the tweezers in hand, bloodied now from how he's dug into himself for the shrapnel, and silver pieces sit in the sink, staining it with bits of blood. his chest is a mess of broken flesh, but he makes no noise on trying to treat it. one thing at a time — get the bullets out, see if that unplugs his mutation. he can only hope for the best, given now he has a reason to ensure he's in tip top shape. ]
[ for a moment he doesn't acknowledge her, trying to push through all that familiar pain stinging under his skin. looking over his shoulder at her haul of clothes, he doesn't spend much time sizing it up. ] Thanks. [ his eyes flicker to her, fingers gripping the basin hard. ]
[ it feels unbalanced, her looking out for him, and so he inhales and decides it's about time he took a little more control. ] When was the last time you ate?