[make no mistake, clark knows well the smell of damp earth. there's almost something comforting about waking up to it -- springtime at dawn, working the farm with his father, the cool morning dew lingering on the grass as the warm sun rises on the horizon.
only, this isn't home. there's no pleasant sunrise, his father isn't laughing beside him, and clark isn't plowing the soft soil to sow seeds in it, he's buried in it. the air isn't refreshing but instead acrid, and he bolts upright in his grave, coughing and sputtering and wiping dirt from his face.]
Hello? Is someone there? There's been some kind of mistake --
[he calls out with all the confidence of a man who'd lived his entire life up until this point almost completely invulnerable. anyone else would be clawing their way out of that 6-foot hole in fear of whoever dug this grave and dumped them in it, but maybe this is just the kind of 'built different' that comes from being raised in the midwest? clark scrambles up and out of the dirt with little grace and lies, a little winded, on his back.]
This is, without a doubt, one of the weirdest things that's ever happened to me. And that's really saying something.
ii. city.
[this place is totally unlike any city clark's experienced before. actually, that's not entirely true; some bits give him an eerie sort of déjà vu for gotham, yet at the same time he knows that city too well to mistake the two for one another.
it's all extremely unsettling. he's dressed rather ordinarily (save for a little dirt, which he wears comfortably anyway as a country boy at heart) and yet people still either stare at him a moment too long or quickly avert their gazes in fear. sometimes both in rapid succession. admittedly, he's a little used to getting this kind of attention as superman, but hardly anyone gives him a second glance as clark kent.]
Look, gentlemen, I appreciate your concern, really, but I think you've got me mistaken for someone else. [is a sort of catch-all response to the variety of strangers approaching him. they speak in a range of emotions and accents, seeming to only advance more as they realize clark is neither afraid nor much of a threat at the moment.] Um. I mean it, I'm not really...
[both hands raise defensively in a display completely unbefitting any kind of hero. which is possibly fitting after all, as he is a totally ordinary and very normal young man with no strange abilities to speak of. definitely.]
iii. changes. ( vampire / emeto mention )
[at first, the changes are subtle. easy to miss. accidentally biting his lip, an allergic reaction to certain jewellery, a mild rash on his neck. the heightened senses are hardly noticed at all -- clark is well accustomed to hearing and smelling things no ordinary human could, after all. he only starts to feel a sense of alarm when he both loses his appetite and his body begins to reject food.
he's ill, that's all. his body must have a weakened immune system after going so long being pretty much unaffected by earth's diseases, so it's understandable that he'd pick up a stomach bug from a new place. in fact, he's in search of a clinic for some medical advice when he finally notices something is amiss.]
Um... That's weird, right? [clark kent stares directly into the window of a nearby office building. under normal circumstances, he'd be looking into the bright blue eyes of an equally confused reflection. he points at the glass and exclaims vaguely into the space around him, as though there's anyone nearby who's about to answer him casually.] You can't even see me, I... That's really creepy.
[sometimes the absence of anything strange is more peculiar than the presence of something strange. it certainly is at present, as the 'that' in question would be the complete and total lack of a reflection looking back at him. one can see both other pedestrians walking by and employees inside the building, paying no mind to this outburst, but the source of it remains missing.]
I mean, is this one of those special funhouse mirrors or something? It has to be, right?
clark kent || dc comics
i. graveyard.
[make no mistake, clark knows well the smell of damp earth. there's almost something comforting about waking up to it -- springtime at dawn, working the farm with his father, the cool morning dew lingering on the grass as the warm sun rises on the horizon.
only, this isn't home. there's no pleasant sunrise, his father isn't laughing beside him, and clark isn't plowing the soft soil to sow seeds in it, he's buried in it. the air isn't refreshing but instead acrid, and he bolts upright in his grave, coughing and sputtering and wiping dirt from his face.]
Hello? Is someone there? There's been some kind of mistake --
[he calls out with all the confidence of a man who'd lived his entire life up until this point almost completely invulnerable. anyone else would be clawing their way out of that 6-foot hole in fear of whoever dug this grave and dumped them in it, but maybe this is just the kind of 'built different' that comes from being raised in the midwest? clark scrambles up and out of the dirt with little grace and lies, a little winded, on his back.]
This is, without a doubt, one of the weirdest things that's ever happened to me. And that's really saying something.
ii. city.
[this place is totally unlike any city clark's experienced before. actually, that's not entirely true; some bits give him an eerie sort of déjà vu for gotham, yet at the same time he knows that city too well to mistake the two for one another.
it's all extremely unsettling. he's dressed rather ordinarily (save for a little dirt, which he wears comfortably anyway as a country boy at heart) and yet people still either stare at him a moment too long or quickly avert their gazes in fear. sometimes both in rapid succession. admittedly, he's a little used to getting this kind of attention as superman, but hardly anyone gives him a second glance as clark kent.]
Look, gentlemen, I appreciate your concern, really, but I think you've got me mistaken for someone else. [is a sort of catch-all response to the variety of strangers approaching him. they speak in a range of emotions and accents, seeming to only advance more as they realize clark is neither afraid nor much of a threat at the moment.] Um. I mean it, I'm not really...
[both hands raise defensively in a display completely unbefitting any kind of hero. which is possibly fitting after all, as he is a totally ordinary and very normal young man with no strange abilities to speak of. definitely.]
iii. changes. ( vampire / emeto mention )
[at first, the changes are subtle. easy to miss. accidentally biting his lip, an allergic reaction to certain jewellery, a mild rash on his neck. the heightened senses are hardly noticed at all -- clark is well accustomed to hearing and smelling things no ordinary human could, after all. he only starts to feel a sense of alarm when he both loses his appetite and his body begins to reject food.
he's ill, that's all. his body must have a weakened immune system after going so long being pretty much unaffected by earth's diseases, so it's understandable that he'd pick up a stomach bug from a new place. in fact, he's in search of a clinic for some medical advice when he finally notices something is amiss.]
Um... That's weird, right? [clark kent stares directly into the window of a nearby office building. under normal circumstances, he'd be looking into the bright blue eyes of an equally confused reflection. he points at the glass and exclaims vaguely into the space around him, as though there's anyone nearby who's about to answer him casually.] You can't even see me, I... That's really creepy.
[sometimes the absence of anything strange is more peculiar than the presence of something strange. it certainly is at present, as the 'that' in question would be the complete and total lack of a reflection looking back at him. one can see both other pedestrians walking by and employees inside the building, paying no mind to this outburst, but the source of it remains missing.]
I mean, is this one of those special funhouse mirrors or something? It has to be, right?