[Shepard, upon realizing the effects of this Storytelling, has been trying to avoid seeing memories. She's been trying to tiptoe around them, looking away when she can. It's not right to have people's privacies be invaded like this. But these memories swarm in no matter the wishes of those who watch them and Shepard quickly finds herself looking towards the sounds of screaming. She sees a man approaching a child, wielding a club, and she shakes.
There's no denying what she sees in front of her. There's no denying what this means and she clenches her fists, breathing fast and shallow. She can't seem to look away no matter how hard she tries, eyes wide and frozen straight ahead as she bears witness to this horrific scene. It feels like there is static in her head as a loud buzzing fills her ears.
I always knew you would slip up one day, Shepard. You'd cross the line and Samson would finally throw you to the dogs like you deserve. He coddled you for too long.
Now it's time to put you in your place.
She sees the boy before her, shielding himself as his Pokemon emerges from its ball and defends him and she feels far away. When he picks up the club and strikes back, every thwack of the club against flesh sending ripples of phantom pain through her. One, two, three- she knows the feeling. Intimately.]
fuck
[The word slips out in a breathless whisper before she can stop herself and she digs her fingernails into her palms, forcing in and out deep breaths. Years ago. This was years ago. Get it together, Shepard, this isn't even yours, this is something different-
The memory finally, blessedly, ends. The child runs. Shepard feels nausea prickling at her as she tries to calm her heart in her throat. He got away, at least. He survived. And so did she, once upon a time.
He survived and grew up and she looks and sees him and- yeah. She's not entirely surprised to see Guzma there. She'd felt like she understood him more than she probably should. She doesn't know if he'll react kindly to her having seen this; hell, she's not sure she shouldn't leave for purely her sake. But all the same, she still asks:]
iii!! (cw: panic, mentions of abuse, PTSD flashbacks, mild dissociation
There's no denying what she sees in front of her. There's no denying what this means and she clenches her fists, breathing fast and shallow. She can't seem to look away no matter how hard she tries, eyes wide and frozen straight ahead as she bears witness to this horrific scene. It feels like there is static in her head as a loud buzzing fills her ears.
Now it's time to put you in your place.
She sees the boy before her, shielding himself as his Pokemon emerges from its ball and defends him and she feels far away. When he picks up the club and strikes back, every thwack of the club against flesh sending ripples of phantom pain through her. One, two, three- she knows the feeling. Intimately.]
fuck
[The word slips out in a breathless whisper before she can stop herself and she digs her fingernails into her palms, forcing in and out deep breaths. Years ago. This was years ago. Get it together, Shepard, this isn't even yours, this is something different-
The memory finally, blessedly, ends. The child runs. Shepard feels nausea prickling at her as she tries to calm her heart in her throat. He got away, at least. He survived. And so did she, once upon a time.
He survived and grew up and she looks and sees him and- yeah. She's not entirely surprised to see Guzma there. She'd felt like she understood him more than she probably should. She doesn't know if he'll react kindly to her having seen this; hell, she's not sure she shouldn't leave for purely her sake. But all the same, she still asks:]
Guzma. Are you ok?