somakemelaugh (
somakemelaugh) wrote in
driftfleet2019-05-06 06:36 pm
Entry tags:
losing it hurt the first time
Who: Undertaker and WHOEVER!
Broadcast: Video
Action: On the Goldstone, in the lab where Undertaker works
When: Naow
The loss of 20/20 vision had been a crippling thing when his life ended all that time ago and Undertaker found himself thrown to the mercies of the afterlife and what awaited him upon his suicide. No one needed to explain it to him then, but it was a form of control enacted by the gods, designed to keep everyone who followed those same footsteps in check. By degrading vision, something people relied on heavily, and giving them a singular means to correct it, the higher ups were assured that those under their employ would follow the rules.
Only they hadn't counted on Undertaker and what he did to bend those rules. Those first few weeks after his escape had been painful, to say the least. First with the injuries that led to his many scars, then to the headaches as he taught himself painstakingly to live without spectacles. Oh, it hadn't been easy, but it had all been necessary.
Now, it was necessary again, and all in the opposite direction. He was well aware of what he had been missing, forcing himself to cope with only half of the sight he should have had, and what he paid for in the wonders around him, he gained independence. Getting it all back, having his sight not only corrected, but improved, now that one hurt. He had tried to tolerate it, tried to fight through it. But it's quite clear to anyone who comes across him or views the footage that he's having a time of it.
Every few moments, he has to stop what he's doing and cover his eyes. This happens several times before he stops completely and feels his way to a seat in the lab and just sits there, face in both hands, and groans aloud where he thinks no one can hear him.
Poor him. If only he knew...
Broadcast: Video
Action: On the Goldstone, in the lab where Undertaker works
When: Naow
The loss of 20/20 vision had been a crippling thing when his life ended all that time ago and Undertaker found himself thrown to the mercies of the afterlife and what awaited him upon his suicide. No one needed to explain it to him then, but it was a form of control enacted by the gods, designed to keep everyone who followed those same footsteps in check. By degrading vision, something people relied on heavily, and giving them a singular means to correct it, the higher ups were assured that those under their employ would follow the rules.
Only they hadn't counted on Undertaker and what he did to bend those rules. Those first few weeks after his escape had been painful, to say the least. First with the injuries that led to his many scars, then to the headaches as he taught himself painstakingly to live without spectacles. Oh, it hadn't been easy, but it had all been necessary.
Now, it was necessary again, and all in the opposite direction. He was well aware of what he had been missing, forcing himself to cope with only half of the sight he should have had, and what he paid for in the wonders around him, he gained independence. Getting it all back, having his sight not only corrected, but improved, now that one hurt. He had tried to tolerate it, tried to fight through it. But it's quite clear to anyone who comes across him or views the footage that he's having a time of it.
Every few moments, he has to stop what he's doing and cover his eyes. This happens several times before he stops completely and feels his way to a seat in the lab and just sits there, face in both hands, and groans aloud where he thinks no one can hear him.
Poor him. If only he knew...

no subject
Indeed, a man of cloth.
[Undertaker? Abel wanted to ask if that's his real name or an association with the funeral business, but he finds that a dreary business and didn't want to ask out of curiosity.]
Likewise, Mr. Undertaker.
no subject
Please, just Undertaker. I might work in the lab around the Goldstone, but it's still a job.