[They had known one another briefly. Luke had his neighborhood, his sense of heart and connection there. Jessica had demons that needed to be reckoned with. Danny? Danny radiated light. That must have been why he was chosen by an ancient power. The goodness, the pureness of being which sounds like total bullshit except it's true. He was absolutely giving to the people at the restaurant, his name was on the building shamed. His very fist opened the door and the whole damn passage that connected Midland Circle to the desecrated grave of a dragon.
That's why he gripped to Danny. That was his request. It seemed like a small thing compared to what he was capable of.
Matt was just ready. There was no other way. Elektra would not be stopped. He would have to go down with her, or die trying. So that was to be the end. Though somehow as the brick, mortar, glass and everything else fell onto him breaking his body and falling through fire into filthy, muddy water. Everything was hurt and darkness. He wasn't awake enough to pray. And he certainly wasn't conscious enough to do much else than be taken by the currant and washed up on shore like the scattered garbage of the off shoot drain.
And he lay there. The warmth of sunlight wasn't enough to provide comfort, the suit melted to his skin and in some parts kept the swelling down if not sausaging him.
Help. God, please. Anyone. Help.
Matt knew he was alive because he could weep. Hell was about pain and punishment, though there as nothing and no one around him. Now and again he'd attempt to crawl further on the gravel. And as no surprise it was another discomfort. Exhaustion drove him to stillness and then finally un-restful sleep. Only for what felt like a few moments at a time. Should he even bother calling out for help again?]
H-help.
[His ribs were cracked if not broken. Breathing deeply made him aware of an unnatural shift. Matt fought down another sob. What use was it?]
no subject
That's why he gripped to Danny. That was his request. It seemed like a small thing compared to what he was capable of.
Matt was just ready. There was no other way. Elektra would not be stopped. He would have to go down with her, or die trying. So that was to be the end. Though somehow as the brick, mortar, glass and everything else fell onto him breaking his body and falling through fire into filthy, muddy water. Everything was hurt and darkness. He wasn't awake enough to pray. And he certainly wasn't conscious enough to do much else than be taken by the currant and washed up on shore like the scattered garbage of the off shoot drain.
And he lay there. The warmth of sunlight wasn't enough to provide comfort, the suit melted to his skin and in some parts kept the swelling down if not sausaging him.
Help. God, please. Anyone. Help.
Matt knew he was alive because he could weep. Hell was about pain and punishment, though there as nothing and no one around him. Now and again he'd attempt to crawl further on the gravel. And as no surprise it was another discomfort. Exhaustion drove him to stillness and then finally un-restful sleep. Only for what felt like a few moments at a time. Should he even bother calling out for help again?]
H-help.
[His ribs were cracked if not broken. Breathing deeply made him aware of an unnatural shift. Matt fought down another sob. What use was it?]