[ Maine doesn't remember the last time he cried. It's been too long, and his memories are too tangled. As the Aerie fades away, he cries. Cries because he can feel everything and everyone, a connection so profound that it transcends words. He's with everyone in a strange nowhere, then deep beneath the waves, then watching the constellations burn. He's with them until something slices and shatters him into jagged, incomplete shards, and then…
Then he is ice, and rage, and grief…
And then Maine wakes up in his bed, and his chest immediately glows blue. His power freezes him in place. He pants for air as tears slide down his cheeks, vision blurred but mind blissfully blank. For five minutes, he gets a reprieve. Then his chest stops glowing, and everything crashes down on him at once.
Maine presses the heels of his hands to his eyes, wiping away tears as he struggles to make sense of anything. He can't. He doesn't know how. Doesn't know how to cope with what he just experienced. Doesn't know how to reconcile memories from a different life that feel as real as this one — if not more so. But he has to do something; he has to move. So he rolls out of bed and does the only thing that makes sense when facing something he doesn't know how to handle: he puts on his armor.
The process of armoring up doesn't take long. It's soothing, too. Makes him feel a little more stable. A little more like this Maine, a man who never set foot in the Aerie or the Quarry. By the time he pulls on his helmet, his tears have mercifully stopped. He stands still for a moment, soaking in the feeling of safety (and power) that comes from wearing his armor. Then he opens his bedroom door, ducks through, and looks around for his teammates. ]
for carolina
Then he is ice, and rage, and grief…
And then Maine wakes up in his bed, and his chest immediately glows blue. His power freezes him in place. He pants for air as tears slide down his cheeks, vision blurred but mind blissfully blank. For five minutes, he gets a reprieve. Then his chest stops glowing, and everything crashes down on him at once.
Maine presses the heels of his hands to his eyes, wiping away tears as he struggles to make sense of anything. He can't. He doesn't know how. Doesn't know how to cope with what he just experienced. Doesn't know how to reconcile memories from a different life that feel as real as this one — if not more so. But he has to do something; he has to move. So he rolls out of bed and does the only thing that makes sense when facing something he doesn't know how to handle: he puts on his armor.
The process of armoring up doesn't take long. It's soothing, too. Makes him feel a little more stable. A little more like this Maine, a man who never set foot in the Aerie or the Quarry. By the time he pulls on his helmet, his tears have mercifully stopped. He stands still for a moment, soaking in the feeling of safety (and power) that comes from wearing his armor. Then he opens his bedroom door, ducks through, and looks around for his teammates. ]