Post by The Anarchist on Nov 25, 2019 9:22:19 GMT -5
He closes his eyes.
That's when one's mind paints colors.
For Jason Willard, the first color is red. The color of Grimm's hair. The color of blood. His blood. Grimm was responsible for painting the PCW canvas with it.
You know the story, right? A shovel. A face. A beating. Trauma.
The second color is blue. The color of Lucy's dress. For Jason Willard, it became a quick hiding spot from the presence of a red demon.
You saw the visual, right? Of course you did. Maybe you laughed. Maybe you were confused. If you had Grimm coming your way, you'd hide anywhere you could. Or be fed to him.
The third and final color is gray. The color of Grimm's words as he spoke them. Ominously verbalized and with whistling tune after. Lucy was ready to uncoil on The Lord of Misrule for his folly. Jason could feel the tension in her muscles. He sensed that at any second, she'd stick a pair of knitting needles into Grimm's flesh and wouldn't stop until her ire had ceased.
He acted in the interest of the best outcome. The only outcome at that very moment. Grimm was many things, but a parent in defense of their child? That was not one of them.
Grimm's words still danced in Jason's head, muddying the colors spoke of, triggering memory aftershocks. Try as he might, he couldn't shake the fact that a steel cell would keep them confined and keep everyone else out.
Loki had tried to confine him in a haunted house and failed. Jason tried to keep Grimm locked in a wooden coffin and failed.
But...Grimm succeeded the first time. He may well do so again.
Then again, he may not.
He opens his eyes.
His world is restored.
-----
"Where is your mind at, babe?"
"What do you mean?"
"Grimm. I'm..."
Destiny isn't able to mask her emotions on the subject. Even if she were to try, all Jason would have to do is take one look and know. You don't spend years with someone and not gain the ability to read your partner like a book.
"You're worried, aren't you?"
Destiny bites her lower lip and nods. "Yeah. I am. I don't want you getting hurt again. I---"
Jason pulls her into his arms, trying his best to comfort her and alleviate the concern.
"I'll admit to not exactly relishing the match, moreso because I'm not one for gimmicks. But unlike last time, Rick Majors won't be jumping me from behind. Nor will Grimm's shovel be legal."
"I don't want you to do it."
"I know you don't, but I have to. You know that, hon."
Destiny nuzzles her head against his neck. She locks her hands with his and squeezes as tight as she can. Jason kisses the top of her head. She shifts in order to make eye contact. A smile soon follows.
"I have an idea."
That's when one's mind paints colors.
For Jason Willard, the first color is red. The color of Grimm's hair. The color of blood. His blood. Grimm was responsible for painting the PCW canvas with it.
You know the story, right? A shovel. A face. A beating. Trauma.
The second color is blue. The color of Lucy's dress. For Jason Willard, it became a quick hiding spot from the presence of a red demon.
You saw the visual, right? Of course you did. Maybe you laughed. Maybe you were confused. If you had Grimm coming your way, you'd hide anywhere you could. Or be fed to him.
The third and final color is gray. The color of Grimm's words as he spoke them. Ominously verbalized and with whistling tune after. Lucy was ready to uncoil on The Lord of Misrule for his folly. Jason could feel the tension in her muscles. He sensed that at any second, she'd stick a pair of knitting needles into Grimm's flesh and wouldn't stop until her ire had ceased.
He acted in the interest of the best outcome. The only outcome at that very moment. Grimm was many things, but a parent in defense of their child? That was not one of them.
Grimm's words still danced in Jason's head, muddying the colors spoke of, triggering memory aftershocks. Try as he might, he couldn't shake the fact that a steel cell would keep them confined and keep everyone else out.
Loki had tried to confine him in a haunted house and failed. Jason tried to keep Grimm locked in a wooden coffin and failed.
But...Grimm succeeded the first time. He may well do so again.
Then again, he may not.
He opens his eyes.
His world is restored.
-----
"Where is your mind at, babe?"
"What do you mean?"
"Grimm. I'm..."
Destiny isn't able to mask her emotions on the subject. Even if she were to try, all Jason would have to do is take one look and know. You don't spend years with someone and not gain the ability to read your partner like a book.
"You're worried, aren't you?"
Destiny bites her lower lip and nods. "Yeah. I am. I don't want you getting hurt again. I---"
Jason pulls her into his arms, trying his best to comfort her and alleviate the concern.
"I'll admit to not exactly relishing the match, moreso because I'm not one for gimmicks. But unlike last time, Rick Majors won't be jumping me from behind. Nor will Grimm's shovel be legal."
"I don't want you to do it."
"I know you don't, but I have to. You know that, hon."
Destiny nuzzles her head against his neck. She locks her hands with his and squeezes as tight as she can. Jason kisses the top of her head. She shifts in order to make eye contact. A smile soon follows.
"I have an idea."