[At first there's nothing, just flickers of thought like indecision. Hermann's patient, eyes closing like it might help both of them focus. It's only their second attempt after all, and the first had been unintentional.
The feelings are subtle at first, like something he could blink away from. He gets impressions, salt in his mouth, discomfort, Godzilla because of course. There's a spike in nerves that almost succeeds in forcing his eyes open. The images flash by like the drift until it settles into one place.
The crushing despair is as unexpected as the sudden sting in his eyes. Music plays like some sort of soundtrack, and the notes are nostalgic and heartbreaking at once. Was this what Newton wanted to share? He doubts it.]
Newton?
[He doesn't know if he says the name or thinks it aloud in the memory. The boy- because Hermann instinctively knows Newton is young in this memory- is nowhere in sight. The man he knows to be Jacob is though, coaxing his son out from under a bed in a room that's strangely familiar.
Is this the RABIT? The words are definitely a thought this time.
Jacob doesn't see him as he shuffles to the side for a better look at the glassy-eyed Newton, and he wonders if he's only lingering as a ghost in this memory. If he tried the door, would it open? Would he go through it? Would there be a hallway there, or lead in to a different memory?
Hermann focuses until he can force his eyes open in the present to take in his drift partner's distress. With great effort, he leans out to set his tea on the coffee table, then reaches across for one of Newton's balled up fists. But this, it turns out, is a mistake.
The second his fingers make contact with Newton's knuckles, he's there. Not just an observer, but Newton himself along with an entire torrent of emotions that leave him shuddering, gasping for breath, wiping his eyes and trying to see through both his tears and unaided vision. His mother's in Paris- or Germany? Gone, left him, her career is more important, he's not good enough-
Gott, no. He scrambles for a foothold in Newton's mind, something separate.
His leg. No cane. A kind man that isn't his father- far too dangerous, don't go there, dont-]
Newton... Newton... Newt, this is only a memory. You're going.. to drag us both in.
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The feelings are subtle at first, like something he could blink away from. He gets impressions, salt in his mouth, discomfort, Godzilla because of course. There's a spike in nerves that almost succeeds in forcing his eyes open. The images flash by like the drift until it settles into one place.
The crushing despair is as unexpected as the sudden sting in his eyes. Music plays like some sort of soundtrack, and the notes are nostalgic and heartbreaking at once. Was this what Newton wanted to share? He doubts it.]
Newton?
[He doesn't know if he says the name or thinks it aloud in the memory. The boy- because Hermann instinctively knows Newton is young in this memory- is nowhere in sight. The man he knows to be Jacob is though, coaxing his son out from under a bed in a room that's strangely familiar.
Is this the RABIT? The words are definitely a thought this time.
Jacob doesn't see him as he shuffles to the side for a better look at the glassy-eyed Newton, and he wonders if he's only lingering as a ghost in this memory. If he tried the door, would it open? Would he go through it? Would there be a hallway there, or lead in to a different memory?
Hermann focuses until he can force his eyes open in the present to take in his drift partner's distress. With great effort, he leans out to set his tea on the coffee table, then reaches across for one of Newton's balled up fists. But this, it turns out, is a mistake.
The second his fingers make contact with Newton's knuckles, he's there. Not just an observer, but Newton himself along with an entire torrent of emotions that leave him shuddering, gasping for breath, wiping his eyes and trying to see through both his tears and unaided vision. His mother's in Paris- or Germany? Gone, left him, her career is more important, he's not good enough-
Gott, no. He scrambles for a foothold in Newton's mind, something separate.
His leg. No cane. A kind man that isn't his father- far too dangerous, don't go there, dont-]
Newton... Newton... Newt, this is only a memory. You're going.. to drag us both in.