Yeah, I suppose that might give too much away. It's a shame though, because I really liked it, it also shows that Stick might have tried other stuff before resorting to this.
"Follow me then."
The old man offers him no assistance, and he doesn't dare ask for it. A door creaks loudly on the other side of the room. He balls his hands into tight fists and takes a deep breath before taking his first step into the unknown.
Against his will, his hands swing out wildly in front of him and to the sides, creating two wide arcs searching for anything that might be in his path. He feels the hesitancy in his own steps, but he walks, he finds the door.
Ahead, to his left, he hears a ghost of a chuckle and the sound of footsteps echoing on a hard floor. It sounds empty here, and somehow he knows that the way ahead is clear. His hand finds the wall and presses into what feels like decades-old wallpaper; thin and peeling in places, rough to the touch. His fingers trace the wall as lightly as he dares and he picks up speed just slightly, following the much more confident footsteps ahead of him.
Another door opens, and they are outside.
A wave of disorientation passes over him. He feels the sun on his skin and instinctively turns his hear in that direction. He realizes that until this moment, he had been hanging onto the hope that this was a lie, that the old man was keeping him in the dark. But there was no denying the truth of the sun on his face or the light breeze rending his loose t-shirt rippling across his chest in waves.
He takes a deep breath and tries to center himself in the way he has been taught.
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
Re: Where Matt has a real identical twin named Mike who is sighted and is Daredevil
Date: 2016-04-24 10:43 am (UTC)"Follow me then."
The old man offers him no assistance, and he doesn't dare ask for it. A door creaks loudly on the other side of the room. He balls his hands into tight fists and takes a deep breath before taking his first step into the unknown.
Against his will, his hands swing out wildly in front of him and to the sides, creating two wide arcs searching for anything that might be in his path. He feels the hesitancy in his own steps, but he walks, he finds the door.
Ahead, to his left, he hears a ghost of a chuckle and the sound of footsteps echoing on a hard floor. It sounds empty here, and somehow he knows that the way ahead is clear. His hand finds the wall and presses into what feels like decades-old wallpaper; thin and peeling in places, rough to the touch. His fingers trace the wall as lightly as he dares and he picks up speed just slightly, following the much more confident footsteps ahead of him.
Another door opens, and they are outside.
A wave of disorientation passes over him. He feels the sun on his skin and instinctively turns his hear in that direction. He realizes that until this moment, he had been hanging onto the hope that this was a lie, that the old man was keeping him in the dark. But there was no denying the truth of the sun on his face or the light breeze rending his loose t-shirt rippling across his chest in waves.
He takes a deep breath and tries to center himself in the way he has been taught.