[ The darkness encroaches, crawls up her ankles like a famished, loving embrace. But when she's launched away from this memory, this place, they follow and something in the Void's eyes harden and flare as he tries to give chase before before flung backwards. He lets out a scream that reverberates around the concrete buildings watching enraged as he's left behind.
Inky blackness shifts like jagged static over Bob's face and he feels it, gripped momentarily by the bitter acridness of a mark lost. But it happens in tandem with Wanda's chaos and he yells – confused, terrified – causing his grip to tighten around her arm through the ridiculous looking costumed tentacle. He knows the feeling of drowning and falling into the depth all too often well but he can't, he can't. He can't allow it to happen here to all of these people who have no idea what he carries with him. Panic bubbles up in his throat as he fights to stay here, stay present, stay Bob but the pull of something else that tastes like loneliness and pain and loss clashes and mingles with a yearning that would be so easy to be swept away in.
But then he hears his name and the world quiets. And the tether still between them has her name spelled out for him in his mind's eye too. He doesn't want to talk about what just happened because he doesn't really know what happened even if the feeling of discomfort clings to him like an ill-fitting shirt. Finally he releases his hold on her swallowing and shaking but trying to still his racing heart. ]
...Wanda? A-a-are you okay? [ And then he glances around them. The room is unfamiliar. But the clothes he wears are. ] Where are we?
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Inky blackness shifts like jagged static over Bob's face and he feels it, gripped momentarily by the bitter acridness of a mark lost. But it happens in tandem with Wanda's chaos and he yells – confused, terrified – causing his grip to tighten around her arm through the ridiculous looking costumed tentacle. He knows the feeling of drowning and falling into the depth all too often well but he can't, he can't. He can't allow it to happen here to all of these people who have no idea what he carries with him. Panic bubbles up in his throat as he fights to stay here, stay present, stay Bob but the pull of something else that tastes like loneliness and pain and loss clashes and mingles with a yearning that would be so easy to be swept away in.
But then he hears his name and the world quiets. And the tether still between them has her name spelled out for him in his mind's eye too. He doesn't want to talk about what just happened because he doesn't really know what happened even if the feeling of discomfort clings to him like an ill-fitting shirt. Finally he releases his hold on her swallowing and shaking but trying to still his racing heart. ]
...Wanda? A-a-are you okay? [ And then he glances around them. The room is unfamiliar. But the clothes he wears are. ] Where are we?