entranceway | three ☢ text ( anoynmous )

[ It had been a dim and far off hope that he could hide himself well in a place this small for too long. He'd known all along that sooner or later, one person or another was bound to see the Other Guy as he ran around the place, whether the transformation was willing or simply the consequence of an external trigger, but that didn't make it any easier to cope with when it did happen on a larger scale.

Besides, the circumstances of it all had been much more complicated than he'd been preparing himself for.

All his memories gone, all his previous experiences, for those days he'd regressed to the very beginning of dealing with his condition, all the progress he'd made over the years gone in the blink of an eye. Not only he couldn't control the beast, but he hadn't even managed to get through to him, to get him to calm down one single time.

He was caged inside, going mad as he helplessly watched all the chaos and destruction he'd leave in his wake.

And now he's himself again, his memories back where they ought to be, and a lot of what happened is a blur in his mind. He remembers talking to people, being scared beyond any measure, but he doesn't know who he hurt, how much damage he caused to some people - the mansion itself isn't as important, he thinks, it'll fix itself as it always does (if it hasn't yet).

The other people stuck here, though, the ones who'd crossed his past during those days on the mirror side, a lot of them probably didn't even know who or what they were dealing with. Which is why after he gets some long and uninterrupted hours of rest, he decides to post a quick text to the network at large, though keeping it anonymous, at least for the moment. ]

This is a message to those of you that were stuck on the mirror side for this past week and a half. If you saw a big green monster wrecking up the place, that was me. I'm sorry if I hurt you. I'm sorry if I put you in danger. I'm not sure if I seriously injured anyone, I can't remember everything that happened while I was like that.

[ Yes, he's aware of the irony in that. ]

I have him under control, usually. I don't change unless I want to. [ Mostly anyway, but no point in scaring anyone. ] But the Jabberwocky changed things. I couldn't control myself because I couldn't remember how to do it.

So, I'm sorry. You don't need to be worried about him, not anymore.

I hope everyone's alright.

(( ooc; all replies will be in either anon, private or both. and if your character was on the mirror side, feel free to assume they saw the Hulk at some point! ))

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[ Natasha had seen him typing out messages on his phone - it had been hard to miss when she hasn't left his room since they'd gotten their memories back and returned to this side. They'd both crashed and tried to sleep the worst of it off, but even she knew that was only a temporary fix.

She had plenty of worries on her own plate, old fears, old memories, old vulnerabilities all stirred up, scraped open, left raw in the aftermath of what the Jabberwocky had done to her. Old ghosts she needed to put to rest all over again. Fortunately for her, after so many transformations, he'd been a very deep sleeper and she'd never woken him up, all the times she'd jolted awake, chased out of her slumber by her own nightmares.

She had managed some sleep, though. Enough. more than she'd expected. And in truth, it was easier to focus on him at the moment, where he sat across from her, frowning at his device. She subtly flipped hers open, seeing what had held his attention, caught sight of his apology, some of the responses he'd gotten.

Natasha put her phone aside and moved to crawl behind him instead, leaning against his back as she knelt on her knees, arms twined about his neck and shoulders from behind. She presses a light kiss to his temple, warm and chaste. ]

Feeling better?

[ He hears her shifting around after he finishes his text, knowing that she's reaching for her phone to read it. He doesn't mind, of course, he'd written it for everyone to read after all, including her. So he sets the phone down, rubbing his hands down his face for a moment, and when she wraps her arms around his neck he sinks back a little into that hold, eyes closing briefly. ]

I don't know. [ It's just one step-- being sorry doesn't do a whole lot in making him feel better, though knowing no one got seriously injured is a big step in the right direction. But the whole experience was jarring, not just having the Other Guy out of control, but having his memories wiped clean, revisiting thoughts of despair and hopelessness that he'd parted ways with a long time ago.

He's alright. He's just still regaining his balance after the world's been turned upside down again. ]

But I think so, yes. [ Legs crossed on the bed, he shifts around so he's facing her. ] And you? Feeling alright?

[ She lets him shift to face her, still sitting so close that their knees touch and she can reach out and rest her hand on his leg, maintaining the contact. She gives him a tiny, wry smile at his question and shakes her head.

She does't know where to start in describing how she's feeling right now. Too big for her own skin, too much crammed into one person. Lives, memories - some of them aren't real, she knows that. Hazards of being her, unfortunately. But they still feel like they should, sometimes more fresh and vivid than the ones she knows she did live through and that just makes everything all the more jumbled. It was going to take her a while to sift through everything again, put everything back where it belonged. Like someone had scattered photographs on the floor with no rhyme or reason, a tapestry of moments that painted a picture but made no reasonable sense.

She doesn't go into that, though. There are secrets that aren't hers to give and there are ones that have been hidden so long that it is just easier to keep them that way. The past belonged in the past and she preferred to keep it that way, when she could.

So she gives him a familiar little smile and leans in to brush her lips against his, light and chaste. ]

Getting there. The sleep helped. Everything's still pretty jumbled.

[ She doesn't talk about it, and he doesn't ask either. What he knows of her barely scratches the surface sometimes, he knows that, but he still believes he knows enough to understand the kind of person she is, and what she doesn't choose to share, be it because it's not hers to do so, or because it's kept hidden so deep within her, he doesn't insist on.

What she chooses to share with him he'll accept, if and when she does. Until then, though, he won't push. He might not keep as much stored in the basements of his own mind and memories, but he knows very well what it's like to have things one doesn't want to bring up. ]

Good. [ He ducks his head just a little, smiling back at her. ] Me too. You're a very quiet sleeper... not that I'd notice.

[ Since he does tend to sleep like a rock after he's back to normal, especially when he feels safe. ]

three ☢ text ( anoynmous )

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