into the belly of a whale; [Arrival]

[matt_murdock]

WHO: Matt Murdock
WHERE: Fountain, then along any street
WHEN: 22 September
OPEN TO: Frank & OTA
WARNINGS: Nothing yet
STATUS: Closed

---

For Frank;

For Matthew Murdock, there is no gentle upward tug, no gradual pulling back of the pleasant mantle of sleep, not on this day or most others, anymore. His torpor is stripped from him with ruthless efficiency, the image of Wilson Fisk's red smile still swimming hazily in his mind as he trips, body heavy and graceless, and knocks face-first into concrete with a rattle of his teeth.

Blood fills his mouth as he hisses a curse, hands instinctively rising to palm against the curved barrier, a wet smear beneath searching fingers as he swallows the taste of copper and shudders out a breath. His head tilts jerkily, birdlike, catching sound like cotton, everything a crimson blur pulsing with his own rabbiting heartbeat.

He drags in another breath, and then another, and takes an outward step. Trembling hand at the end of an extended arm, his fingertips at last brush against another wall, more subtly curved and cool to the touch. Slowly, he walks the circular perimeter, listening to the soft scuttle of leaves against the lip of the hole he's found himself so suddenly at the bottom of.

The darkness pulls in at his periphery, a creeping, misty threat, a window fogged with shadows.

There are cracks spidered along the outer wall of the cylinder, but nothing substantial enough for a handhold. A running jump is not enough to angle off the inner wall and out; his feet are sluggish and he tumbles, back smacking solidly to the ground.

"Fuck," he bites out with the breath left him, and pushes himself to his feet, frustration threading through his already precarious composure.

"HELLO?" he raggedly calls at last, bracing himself, prepared for the worst.


OTA;

Matt is still not convinced he has not, at long last, cracked his thick head hard enough to produce an incredibly convincing hallucination. He likes to think that if he were in a coma, he'd be nice enough to let himself see, or at least to not shack him up with Frank Castle, but in truth, that sounds like exactly the sort of masochism his subconscious would cook up when let off its leash. His everyday dreams are filled with Wilson Fisk beating him bloody; it isn't that far a leap to where he's at now, when you think about it.

But more to the point: Coma or otherwise, he is diminished, curtailed, knocked down about a hundred pegs, senses constantly straining for acumen they no longer contain. He is scuffing down a dirt street with a branch in hand, the bark still on and a few leaves, too, far too short for the job of sweeping before him so that he has to hunch like someone's granddad just to put one foot in front of the other.

Somewhere, Stick is doubled over laughing at him; this Matt is utterly assured of.

Comments

[womanofvalue]

She can't help the way she ducks her head to smile at the notion that she pried it off with her bare hands. "Well, lucky for me, the earthquake already broke off more than enough furniture to give us a whole fortress' worth of walking sticks. And I'm Peggy," she says, staying by him cautiously to make sure that he won't trip over anything. "It's good to meet you, Matt, and I assure you, if I do have freakish strength, I would be putting it to far more use."

"I haven't seen you around, have you been here long?"

[matt_murdock]

"I'm afraid to ask what exactly that use would be," Matt says with a soft little chuckle. If he's imagining prim British school uniforms and spankings, it's really not his fault.

"And I don't have a watch anymore, so I can't say for sure, but I'd say three hours is a good guess. Give or take. I had no idea there'd been an earthquake. Was that recently?"

[womanofvalue]

"It was a rather nasty run of them, but they all led to quite a large disaster," Peggy shares, as if it's just an everyday thing. She's removed enough from the destruction of her home and the frustration it had caused that she's able to look at the situation a little more clearly. "Any strength that I do have, I imagine I would be using to try and clear the remaining rubble. You're half lucky you can't see the disaster. We're all a little worse for the wear," she jests, knowing it's quite the exaggeration.

She lingers, cautiously, worrying how he's going to navigate this place without his vision. "I don't mean to be forward," she says hesitantly, "but can I get you somewhere on flat or firm ground? A place to sit down perhaps? I'd hate to leave you be and you're off to be injured."

[matt_murdock]

Matt's mouth opens and then falters, trying to find an appropriate rejoinder before he finally simply laughs. "You know," he says, and ducks his head as if he's already guilty, "I think I'll be okay. Despite appearances, I've been doing this for awhile."

This isn't strictly true, of course -- His blindness has never been truly limiting, not for extended periods. He's still waiting for the darkness at the edges of his vision to recede.

"Although, to be honest, I wouldn't mind a tour from someone who knows the place," he adds, tipping his head up with an openly hopeful expression. "If you're not busy."

[womanofvalue]

She still feels a touch awful about leaving him, so when he asks for a tour, she's glad that he's relented. She reaches out for the arm that isn't secured to the post, cautiously moving it so that he can rest it on her hand, like she's seen nurses do before, and waits until he seems ready to walk. "I've been mapping it out nearly since I arrived," she admits, so she does know the layout.

"Do you have any particular interests? Something you'd like to see?"

[matt_murdock]

"Honestly, I'm just trying to get my bearings." This is far from the first time Matt's been inadvertently asked if he'd like to see something. Someone he's more familiar with might get a friendly ribbing -- Yes, indeed, he surely would like to see a lot of things, actually -- but this time, he lets it easily slide.

"Is it alright if I take your arm right behind your elbow?" he asks, and slides his hand lightly back to touch the spot he means. "It's a bit easier for me that way."

[womanofvalue]

"Yes, that's fine," she promises, easing his hand to the place where he had gestured. Peggy's got a touch of a soft spot for well meaning men with good manners and who are at a slight disadvantage. She knows it stems back to Steve, really, and Sousa doesn't help in that regard. "I promise not to whirl you about too quickly," she promises,

"Let's start at the inn," she says decisively, because she thinks it's the best place to begin.

[matt_murdock]

"There's a lunch there everyday, isn't there?"

From the moment Matt tripped face-first into the inside of the fountain, tangible details about this place have been disconcertingly thin on the ground. But to Frank's credit, he'd made sure Matt knew enough to not starve. Probably not much of a compliment, really, but you have to consider who you're talking about.

Right now, it's enough that Peggy is close and smells comfortingly familiar, the faint scent of lavender and pine needles as he tucks in with his hand fixed just above the crook of her elbow.

"Have you been here for very long?" he asks, leaning his new pole against his opposite shoulder. "You seem pretty confident about where you're going," he adds with a smile.

[womanofvalue]

"Yes, we've pushed poor Kate to the limit each day, but people pitch in and help," Peggy jokes, though she does feel bad for taxing the poor young girl. Though, there are days in which Peggy forgets that there ought to be three meals instead of two, but she tends to make up for those with heavier dinner portions. "I've been here long enough, but I also spend my days ensuring the map I've been drawing is kept up to date."

Unfortunately, the canyons have been eluding her and refusing to let her finish an accurate representation, so it seems she'll have to continue onwards. "I haven't been keeping exact track, but I'd put it at some months," she says. "I don't think that's a very positive thing to be telling you, though. I'm sorry."

[matt_murdock]

"Kate," Matt repeats, committing it to memory, and briefly leans just a bit closer to Peggy as he says, smiling, "It's always a good idea to remember the name of the person who feeds you."

His brows goes slightly pinched, but he shrugs at her confession. "I don't know, there are probably two schools of thought there. Keeping track, or just getting on with surviving." Because if what he's understanding is correct, this place is more about surviving than not. How in the hell he's going to manage to contribute, he can't fathom yet, but he'll find a way.

[womanofvalue]

"I certainly like to give her all the praise she's owed," Peggy agrees cheerfully, because she knows which side of the toast to butter when it comes to requiring food. She eases her pace when she thinks she might be walking too briskly (a force of habit) and reminds herself that Matt might need a moment more.

"I didn't intend to be here long enough to need to keep track, I can assure you," she says, a touch stung at the fact that her attempts at discovery and escape have been so futile. "It feels like some days, all I do is look for a secret passageway out. Every day, I think perhaps today will be the day I find it. That I've just somehow missed it before," she says, telling not-quite-secrets, but sharing her frustrations. "And every day, I come home without a key to an exit door or even an inclination of where it lies, if it even exists."

[matt_murdock]

"It's always the last place you look," Matt says, going for levity, but his smile is tempered with the first creeping shadow of doubt. These people have been here for months. Frank has been here for months. It doesn't bode well for the length of his own stay.

"But you can't give up," he adds with a gentle squeeze to Peggy's arm. "The right thing isn't always the easy thing."

[womanofvalue]

She smiles ruefully, even if he can't see her, and tips her head to the side as she thinks of the fact that she hasn't given up on many things in her life - and those that she has, but will always be tinged with regret. "You're still a stranger to me," she says, "but if you get to know me better, you'll discover the bullish stubbornness is one of my very best traits," she says, proud of what so many men have told her will hold her back.

"Honestly, I think I'll keep going until it's through with me," she insists, thinking that she'll have to be put down or around the bend before she gives up on understanding why they're here, how, and a way to get out.