Erik Lehnsherr (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
markedformore) wrote2011-10-13 10:48 pm
markedformore) wrote2011-10-13 10:48 pm
(no subject)
The instant it happens, he knows.
There is a certain scent that Erik will never forget in his life and though he's made great strides in repressing it, it still flares up in his memories and his thoughts and his nightmares. The acrid taste of ash and death in his mouth will never leave him and now it permeates his being as strongly as the thrumming sensation that pounds through his body and tells him that things are different. "Weiterrücken," a guard just behind him commands. Erik lifts his gaze and stares forward at a new height -- or maybe he should say a height he's yet to see in some time.
"Eine minuten, bitte," he says aloud. He speaks mostly to hear his voice and the young timbre of it. He hears, faintly, the echo of fear in his voice and he wonders at why. He need not wait long. He knows what awaits him down that hallway. Schmidt's office with its torture devices are sitting and waiting for him to play. On the desk, there will be a coin. These are facts that Erik knows, well. Past the stench in the air and the press of a gun to the small of his back (from a man following orders), Erik knows what awaits him.
It is the strangled cry of a woman that causes Erik to stop in his steps. He sets aside so many things -- why he's here, why he's young, why he can feel his abilities returned to him -- because he would never mistake such a voice. It's the same one that permeates every dark nightmare and pleasant dream he's ever experienced.
"Nein," he speaks, uttering it repeatedly until grief all but swallows the word. He stands frozen until the guard loses patience and grabs him by the shoulder, dragging him the last of the way. He knows what happens on this day and Erik realises that he has the chance to change the fates. Perhaps it is a kindness that he's back in this terrifying place, but all his bravado and cheer fade away when he's set in front of the desk and in front of his creator.
Fear that he hadn't felt in decades infiltrates his body and mind. Erik lifts his head tentatively and comes face to face with his villain and his maker, both. He knows that his mother is just a door away as surely as he knows that the gun in Schmidt's possession will be fired today. At least, this is what history says. Erik stares at the coin with great dismay and wills control of his powers out from under the grief and the icy dagger of vengeance that seems stuck in his heart.
"Guten morgen, Erik, wie geht es Ihnen?"
Erik dutifully ignores such a mundane question, head bowed to the ground as he summons whatever strength he has. At the very least, Erik is blessed with the knowledge that he will change this day, if it kills him, he will.
There is a certain scent that Erik will never forget in his life and though he's made great strides in repressing it, it still flares up in his memories and his thoughts and his nightmares. The acrid taste of ash and death in his mouth will never leave him and now it permeates his being as strongly as the thrumming sensation that pounds through his body and tells him that things are different. "Weiterrücken," a guard just behind him commands. Erik lifts his gaze and stares forward at a new height -- or maybe he should say a height he's yet to see in some time.
"Eine minuten, bitte," he says aloud. He speaks mostly to hear his voice and the young timbre of it. He hears, faintly, the echo of fear in his voice and he wonders at why. He need not wait long. He knows what awaits him down that hallway. Schmidt's office with its torture devices are sitting and waiting for him to play. On the desk, there will be a coin. These are facts that Erik knows, well. Past the stench in the air and the press of a gun to the small of his back (from a man following orders), Erik knows what awaits him.
It is the strangled cry of a woman that causes Erik to stop in his steps. He sets aside so many things -- why he's here, why he's young, why he can feel his abilities returned to him -- because he would never mistake such a voice. It's the same one that permeates every dark nightmare and pleasant dream he's ever experienced.
"Nein," he speaks, uttering it repeatedly until grief all but swallows the word. He stands frozen until the guard loses patience and grabs him by the shoulder, dragging him the last of the way. He knows what happens on this day and Erik realises that he has the chance to change the fates. Perhaps it is a kindness that he's back in this terrifying place, but all his bravado and cheer fade away when he's set in front of the desk and in front of his creator.
Fear that he hadn't felt in decades infiltrates his body and mind. Erik lifts his head tentatively and comes face to face with his villain and his maker, both. He knows that his mother is just a door away as surely as he knows that the gun in Schmidt's possession will be fired today. At least, this is what history says. Erik stares at the coin with great dismay and wills control of his powers out from under the grief and the icy dagger of vengeance that seems stuck in his heart.
"Guten morgen, Erik, wie geht es Ihnen?"
Erik dutifully ignores such a mundane question, head bowed to the ground as he summons whatever strength he has. At the very least, Erik is blessed with the knowledge that he will change this day, if it kills him, he will.