Your level of confidence in me is staggering. He retorted as he looked up at her from the mat, unable to help himself after noting the doubt in her tone. His own tone was playful but his expression unchanging; controlling his outward reaction and being careful of what he said out loud was a task he was used to, controlling his immediate thoughts was not.
As Pidge lays her hand over his, he can't help flinching slightly, not enough to be seen, but likely enough to be felt. Touch was always something of a shock, but he was at least used to it enough by now to not instinctively recoil or react beyond that initial flinch. He was about to turn his hand over to play along with the act, when Sister Ellora plunges him in to the past and he instead grips the mat.
The crack about his eidetic memory and penchant for obsessing over the past had been exaggerated but wasn't too far from the truth. Slipping into thoughts of that past still happened often, but eidetic memories weren't as perfect as they were claimed to be. He might have been capable of keeping specific information strait better than most, but memories were still like old tapes, where the more you played them over, the more susceptible they become to twisting and warping. And this was nothing like simply remembering the past. It really was like reliving it with every emotion sharply amplified.
Once again he was back in the confines of Craydl, spending literal centuries studying his families history, training, comparing himself to his original and struggling to be better; now with the full knowledge that the entire mission, and most of the stories he had been told about his family, were false.
He was masquerading as his genetic original, watching as Max's health deteriorated and he grew closer to the death he'd helped draw him to the brink of. Every day become a little more painful as he grew closer to the man and continued to watch him struggle. There was a growing regret now that he didn't have the capacity to feel at the time, having been too focused on his plan and the unshakable self-assurance that he would be capable of saving him and reversing everything he'd done. That he would be able to prove that he was better than Bart, heal Max and keep this life all in one fell swoop.
And then it all fell apart, everything that happened in the speedforce replayed with excruciating detail. Max admitting he loved him like a son only to call him Bart, over and over and over until he finally snapped. He watched himself nearly kill him again, all because he felt slighted. Max stopped him, tried to talk him down, offered understanding, a chance to redeem himself and be a part of their family. And the old man's expression when he simply threw it back in his face stuck painfully in his mind.
Bart's words after he'd managed to storm in and almost save the day, stung as hard as they ever did. They were the one memory Sister Ellora didn't need to exaggerate. Those words had become a constant unpleasant companion, that he feared would follow him for the rest of his existence.
And finally, he was standing in front of his creator, the one who'd condemned him to this empty singleminded existence. After months of planning, of digging up the truth for himself, of lashing out and undermining him from the shadows, he finally stood in front of the man for the first time in his life. And with the exchange of only a few scathing sentences, he could feel himself already crumble under his words and presence. Feeling every bit the traitorous petulant child his progenitor accused him of being, even as a steady underlying anger still boiled over into his own responses.
Throughout this, while he said nothing aloud, Thad's projected thoughts become an incoherent jumble, an onslaught of ramblings and reactions spat out at superspeed as he got lost in the memories.
no subject
As Pidge lays her hand over his, he can't help flinching slightly, not enough to be seen, but likely enough to be felt. Touch was always something of a shock, but he was at least used to it enough by now to not instinctively recoil or react beyond that initial flinch. He was about to turn his hand over to play along with the act, when Sister Ellora plunges him in to the past and he instead grips the mat.
The crack about his eidetic memory and penchant for obsessing over the past had been exaggerated but wasn't too far from the truth. Slipping into thoughts of that past still happened often, but eidetic memories weren't as perfect as they were claimed to be. He might have been capable of keeping specific information strait better than most, but memories were still like old tapes, where the more you played them over, the more susceptible they become to twisting and warping. And this was nothing like simply remembering the past. It really was like reliving it with every emotion sharply amplified.
Once again he was back in the confines of Craydl, spending literal centuries studying his families history, training, comparing himself to his original and struggling to be better; now with the full knowledge that the entire mission, and most of the stories he had been told about his family, were false.
He was masquerading as his genetic original, watching as Max's health deteriorated and he grew closer to the death he'd helped draw him to the brink of. Every day become a little more painful as he grew closer to the man and continued to watch him struggle. There was a growing regret now that he didn't have the capacity to feel at the time, having been too focused on his plan and the unshakable self-assurance that he would be capable of saving him and reversing everything he'd done. That he would be able to prove that he was better than Bart, heal Max and keep this life all in one fell swoop.
And then it all fell apart, everything that happened in the speedforce replayed with excruciating detail. Max admitting he loved him like a son only to call him Bart, over and over and over until he finally snapped. He watched himself nearly kill him again, all because he felt slighted. Max stopped him, tried to talk him down, offered understanding, a chance to redeem himself and be a part of their family. And the old man's expression when he simply threw it back in his face stuck painfully in his mind.
Bart's words after he'd managed to storm in and almost save the day, stung as hard as they ever did. They were the one memory Sister Ellora didn't need to exaggerate. Those words had become a constant unpleasant companion, that he feared would follow him for the rest of his existence.
And finally, he was standing in front of his creator, the one who'd condemned him to this empty singleminded existence. After months of planning, of digging up the truth for himself, of lashing out and undermining him from the shadows, he finally stood in front of the man for the first time in his life. And with the exchange of only a few scathing sentences, he could feel himself already crumble under his words and presence. Feeling every bit the traitorous petulant child his progenitor accused him of being, even as a steady underlying anger still boiled over into his own responses.
Throughout this, while he said nothing aloud, Thad's projected thoughts become an incoherent jumble, an onslaught of ramblings and reactions spat out at superspeed as he got lost in the memories.