[He remembers days far back beyond anyone's memory.
He misses those days. The world was wide and vast and unexplored and the sense of community he had felt with the others who had been taken and abused by their supposed Kree masters had formed the first communities. It had been heady, it had been heartbreaking, to be apart often from friends, from family, from loved ones and raised to the stars.
The ties that bind still linger. They linger in settlements like the one he's found, far away from his people yet still aware of their presence. The beast (Lash he called himself.) was unable to sever each connection entirely. That is his purpose, he wants to be connected, needs to be connected. Needed to be connected.
It's not the same since Coulson and The Team blasted him. Some mornings he wakes up as Will Daniels, he is haunted by tastes and smells on Grant Ward's undead tongue, he has a fondness for pecan pie - something neither of the previous men hate, but Malick's baby brother loved. They'd steal it from the kitchen and cook would complain to father but his brother would always take the rap until at last he'd killed him.
A thousand memories, a million, but those three lifetimes ring truest. He is connected to them, their heartbreakingly short lives. He combs through each memory like a child looking for sea shells. He would rather have those three memories fresh in his mind then anything else in the world.
And some days he is reminded of his purpose. All inhumans have a purpose, the clan elder said to a boy just before he underwent terragenesis. Just before his blood called him to the stones and the mist. He emerged with a third eye, horrified, unable to ever mingle with normal human beings again. A girl a month before, after her sixteenth birthday came out of her cocoon covered in scales. She had sharp teeth. She had shoved away the doctor who wanted to help her. Things are not so different after all.
Alveus had stepped in after that in this small mountain community. The girl was clawing at anyone who came close but he had shifted and sat down and told her his tale. The others gathered around, people from all walks, some from all places. They weren't the only community he was told, they lived scattered and every time he thought about bringing them together, taking back the planet from the humans...
His head ached. He heard Jemma screaming. He saw Skye shot. He watched Gideon betray him again. And again. and again.
Time he tells himself, and he shivers and masters his ability, to unite them all blindly, to make them all want to serve him and tells her about Thomas Sharpe, who he was once upon a time, who was born with a sixth finger and cursed for a witch. He tells her about Kat Bucket, a london whore. He tells her indirectly about himself as his tentacles shift in the breeze. She doesn't feel better but she allows her family to take her back to their dwelling.
He could make her feel better. This is what he struggles with. He is a narcotic by nature. He could give her the peace she so desires, make her happy with her inhuman choices but every time he opens his eyes he sees the lives of someone else.
And there is someone else too. A woman, a young girl really whose psychic ability far outstrips his own (his skill really came from millennia of observational experience and a bare skimming of an advanced alien brain.) He had to figure out how to build a wall around his innermost thoughts but he did it, was one of the first to do it probably. Still it's not made of the strongest materials.
Idly he wonders if his thoughts might sound like bees. Standing there watching the sun set.]
How do they sound? My thoughts?
[One inhuman he'd known millennia ago saw colors for thoughts. Another saw pictures much like the films that would one day rule the world. He doesn't bother looking at her.]
If your brother knew you were out here he might be angry.
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He misses those days. The world was wide and vast and unexplored and the sense of community he had felt with the others who had been taken and abused by their supposed Kree masters had formed the first communities. It had been heady, it had been heartbreaking, to be apart often from friends, from family, from loved ones and raised to the stars.
The ties that bind still linger. They linger in settlements like the one he's found, far away from his people yet still aware of their presence. The beast (Lash he called himself.) was unable to sever each connection entirely. That is his purpose, he wants to be connected, needs to be connected. Needed to be connected.
It's not the same since Coulson and The Team blasted him. Some mornings he wakes up as Will Daniels, he is haunted by tastes and smells on Grant Ward's undead tongue, he has a fondness for pecan pie - something neither of the previous men hate, but Malick's baby brother loved. They'd steal it from the kitchen and cook would complain to father but his brother would always take the rap until at last he'd killed him.
A thousand memories, a million, but those three lifetimes ring truest. He is connected to them, their heartbreakingly short lives. He combs through each memory like a child looking for sea shells. He would rather have those three memories fresh in his mind then anything else in the world.
And some days he is reminded of his purpose. All inhumans have a purpose, the clan elder said to a boy just before he underwent terragenesis. Just before his blood called him to the stones and the mist. He emerged with a third eye, horrified, unable to ever mingle with normal human beings again. A girl a month before, after her sixteenth birthday came out of her cocoon covered in scales. She had sharp teeth. She had shoved away the doctor who wanted to help her. Things are not so different after all.
Alveus had stepped in after that in this small mountain community. The girl was clawing at anyone who came close but he had shifted and sat down and told her his tale. The others gathered around, people from all walks, some from all places. They weren't the only community he was told, they lived scattered and every time he thought about bringing them together, taking back the planet from the humans...
His head ached. He heard Jemma screaming. He saw Skye shot. He watched Gideon betray him again. And again. and again.
Time he tells himself, and he shivers and masters his ability, to unite them all blindly, to make them all want to serve him and tells her about Thomas Sharpe, who he was once upon a time, who was born with a sixth finger and cursed for a witch. He tells her about Kat Bucket, a london whore. He tells her indirectly about himself as his tentacles shift in the breeze. She doesn't feel better but she allows her family to take her back to their dwelling.
He could make her feel better. This is what he struggles with. He is a narcotic by nature. He could give her the peace she so desires, make her happy with her inhuman choices but every time he opens his eyes he sees the lives of someone else.
And there is someone else too. A woman, a young girl really whose psychic ability far outstrips his own (his skill really came from millennia of observational experience and a bare skimming of an advanced alien brain.) He had to figure out how to build a wall around his innermost thoughts but he did it, was one of the first to do it probably. Still it's not made of the strongest materials.
Idly he wonders if his thoughts might sound like bees. Standing there watching the sun set.]
How do they sound? My thoughts?
[One inhuman he'd known millennia ago saw colors for thoughts. Another saw pictures much like the films that would one day rule the world. He doesn't bother looking at her.]
If your brother knew you were out here he might be angry.