Markus is prepared, of course, for the anxiety. For the disorientation and the feeling of being suffocated by a burgeoning panic attack. But there are pieces in here that he didn’t quite account for, that sort of detached existential dread that was once a steadfast companion of his in the first few days of his arrival. Like meeting the ghost of an old friend, one that he could do without, but has the capacity to deal with through experience and pure determination. He quells it, pushes steadiness forward through his own bond. That’s easy enough to deal with.
But it’s the grief swelling in him that he has trouble confining, an emotion that Markus has never had time to cope with, a wide chasm that the android only ever tries to leap over when confronted with its touch. He nearly stumbles headfirst into it, feeling it creep across every non-existent line of code he sometimes still thinks exists in his head. Has to suck in a breath, grit his teeth just a little, to focus instead on the sensation of air filling his lungs. To breathe, just breathe—]
Just breathe. [—he echoes again, automatically, as if his thoughts should become Simon’s own. Markus is nothing but stubborn. The calmness he chooses to exude gains an heated edge of resolve, just enough to add steel to the flow of pacifistic calm. Very trademark of this RK200, and he hopes that it sticks.]
no subject
Well, it’s a lot.
Markus is prepared, of course, for the anxiety. For the disorientation and the feeling of being suffocated by a burgeoning panic attack. But there are pieces in here that he didn’t quite account for, that sort of detached existential dread that was once a steadfast companion of his in the first few days of his arrival. Like meeting the ghost of an old friend, one that he could do without, but has the capacity to deal with through experience and pure determination. He quells it, pushes steadiness forward through his own bond. That’s easy enough to deal with.
But it’s the grief swelling in him that he has trouble confining, an emotion that Markus has never had time to cope with, a wide chasm that the android only ever tries to leap over when confronted with its touch. He nearly stumbles headfirst into it, feeling it creep across every non-existent line of code he sometimes still thinks exists in his head. Has to suck in a breath, grit his teeth just a little, to focus instead on the sensation of air filling his lungs. To breathe, just breathe—]
Just breathe. [—he echoes again, automatically, as if his thoughts should become Simon’s own. Markus is nothing but stubborn. The calmness he chooses to exude gains an heated edge of resolve, just enough to add steel to the flow of pacifistic calm. Very trademark of this RK200, and he hopes that it sticks.]