This was way, way too close to home with when Juno entirely took over his body and made him move when he didn't want to. Except he was frozen, not moved, but still. It was triggering. Desmond did not have an easy time staying calm or patient in any situation. Internally he was wildly trying to move and struggle, do anything that would get him free without help, but it wasn't happening. He tried to listen to Altaïr. It wasn't working. Nothing was working.
Desmond had a strange way of looking quite a bit like his ancestors depending on who was standing near him. His features looked just enough like each of them that people might guess correctly they were related. He had a much harder time rationalizing right now how he was crazy because he didn't think he'd come up with mice that froze people alive in his brain. He wasn't that creative.
Still struggling, something seemed to click in his mind whether he knew it or not, and flames were called to his fingers encased in the ice. Desmond was just as shocked at the fact he was doing that than being frozen. What. WHAT. At the least it was starting to help melt the ice around his own arms, and with Altaïr helping at the other parts, it was starting to work. The second he was able to move his arms he used the fire more, and by the end of it, he was panting and out of breath. More from keeping in his panic than anything else.
He stumbled back away from Altaïr, his hands still on fire, and he shook his hands over and over to see if they would just be put out. "What the fuck." His afterlife was bullshit.
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Desmond had a strange way of looking quite a bit like his ancestors depending on who was standing near him. His features looked just enough like each of them that people might guess correctly they were related. He had a much harder time rationalizing right now how he was crazy because he didn't think he'd come up with mice that froze people alive in his brain. He wasn't that creative.
Still struggling, something seemed to click in his mind whether he knew it or not, and flames were called to his fingers encased in the ice. Desmond was just as shocked at the fact he was doing that than being frozen. What. WHAT. At the least it was starting to help melt the ice around his own arms, and with Altaïr helping at the other parts, it was starting to work. The second he was able to move his arms he used the fire more, and by the end of it, he was panting and out of breath. More from keeping in his panic than anything else.
He stumbled back away from Altaïr, his hands still on fire, and he shook his hands over and over to see if they would just be put out. "What the fuck." His afterlife was bullshit.