{ Mental Aches } Perion & Spencer

caught-recalling:

[ If she could have anticipated her home broken into, she’d have work more clothes. As it stands the dishwater blonde is in yoga shorts and a tank top, hair loose, with the majority of her scars and tattoos on display for not only this unshaved man with a crazed look on his face and a gun in one hand. Perion had heard his attempts to break in and had grabbed her gun, going from an exhausted state to one of heightened awareness in less than five seconds. ]
[ When he bursts in he immediately freezes, though brings his arm up—gun in tow—as if he wasn’t expecting to meet a yoga short wearing, gun bearing blonde when he broke in. ]
“Get out.” [ Simple enough command, maybe not enough oomf in her tone because he just continues aiming the gun at her. Perion’s head begins to pound—no no no no no— this is too familiar but the can’t even place it —oh god her head is starting to kill —she’s starting to shake too.]
“Out’a my way lady—!”
“Get the fuck out of my house!”
[ If that doesn’t alert the law enforcement chasing this man then the shot she aims into the frozen flower pot on her front stoop certainly does the trick. —He’s so surprised he turns around to flee the way he came, to his ultimate demise however, when a black haired man in an FBI jacket and vest appears at the bottom of the stairs, shouts to the man to freeze and come out, followed by a younger brunet who acts as the first man’s cover.
Perion’s shaking is now accompanied with breathing that is getting too fast. The perp turns around again, like a mouse in a trap, only to meet the muzzle of Perry’s gun. “She’s got a gun on me!” He says, as if to shift the blame onto her. —Now the FBI people are inside her front door.]
“Get out, get out get out— out—!”
[ Oh god her head really hurts, and now her eyes are swimming with tears— what is this reaction?! Perion lets out a huff of breath, trying to stabilize her breathing. What now? What now? This isn’t good—not good not good not good.]

^「^♟」 — R_{eckless pursuit of a suspect arose as a result of desperation. Stern voices, the threat of a bullet's scalding pathway through flesh, did not do the trick. Still, the man profiled and pinpointed, opted to run.}

_{Orders were barked, still clung desperately to the night air. Each selective member of his team, and the official additions courtesy of the county police, launched to action: some threw on sirens, others bounded forward on foot. His eyes held to Aaron Hotchner’s back, his feet imitated each movement in tandem.}

_{Mimicry so close, he could have sworn, brought upon parallel thoughts as the man rounded a fenced corner,}

_{Civilian territory.}

_{Disciplined flickered upward to steal a glance between his superior’s shoulder blades, practically anticipating verbatim the instructions to spread out, locate the home breached, and secure any and all indoors with minimal casualties. Each limb of their team had hands varnished with blood – adding to the chaos would be even more cumbersome to rinse clean.}

_{Their stalwart supervisor was the first to identify the doorway swung open like a broken jaw. With two fingers, a grim, silent glance, carved a silent set of instructions to the trailing profiler. Those held captive in their own space of security were no doubt under overwhelming pressure, anxiety. To approach this situation required finesse, but more than that, an ability to read, decipher, and translate a human being in what might be one second.}

_{Such was his duty.}

_{S h o t s f i r e d. Potential civilian d o w n.}

_Move!

_{Hotchner entered the toxic property first – harsh came the bellow insisting the subject to submit, and exit without objection. However, almost predictably, he redirected attention to petrified woman cowering, safeguarded only by a trembling pistol (the source of the alarm?). Reid’s eyes lingered off track for but a moment, and returned to the point of pursuit almost immediately. His pistol was levelled, his breathing as controlled as it could be following an unpredicted sprint.}

_{His skull fracturing, and caving in on his brain.}

_{Headaches pass, they pass. F o c u s .}

_{Firmly, aching teeth clenched together in his jaw – yet, that was just barely enough to keep his adamant gaze from interruption in quick, hesitant blinks. Ice streamed into his ears, attributed to the overall thrum of all too familiar anguish that threatened to blot out his sight.}

_{When Morgan moved forward to neutralize the suspect, bound him in}

_{steel manacles, the world about the genius was more black than corrupt.}

_{❝Reid –}
_{Calm her down, we’ve got this.❞}

_{He nodded tensely. Before moving to kneel before her, several feet away as not to impose the sense of a threat upon her, he allowed an inadequate, lengthened blink to soothe his raw eyes.}

_{Kneeling, gun lowered to his feet, voice low – ruptured.}

_{❝Sorry for our sudden – intrusion.❞ Between chapped lips, a drawn out, calculated breath of feigned comfort, ❝… We’re from the FBI’s BAU, ma'am, my name is Doctor Reid –}

_{Everything is secure now, no one intends to harm you.❞ A trembling hand rose, a single finger flexed upward, ❝I understand what you just went through was traumatic, and that slipping into shock is a perfectly reasonable and natural response —- Although, if possible, we’d like to avoid that by any means necessary.❞}

_{The digit shifted to his left, ❝To the best of your ability,}

_{try and follow my finger with your}

_{eyes. Don’t forget to}

b r e a t h e.❞

posted Jan 30, 2014 at 7:33 from selfreset-a-deactivated20170624 with 2 notes

voloamori:

_virtusxcor
_iq—187
_fortiterae
_auspicis
_{█∶ღ∶ ─;; She’d say she wasn’t sure how she got here but right now, she just ‘wasn’t sure’ as a general statement. Considering that’d been her mindset since she left the stupid mall, you could tell the evening was off to a great start. And wherever she was now… definitely wasn’t the stupid mall.}
_{Was she dreaming again? Ugh. What’s going on?}
_{Nervous fingers flexed along the pistol’s handle. Since she’d ducked through that doorway, she hadn’t seen anymore monsters (I can’t believe I just thought that) and walking around with a gun in her hand was beginning to feel a little… weird. A cautionary glance over her shoulder and she carefully checked the safety on the weapon, stowing it into her vest. If anything tried jumping out at her, it was definitely going to get kicked to the ground and stomped on the throat.}
_{Huffing to herself, Heather rounded another corner and her steps came to an abrupt halt. A few feet ahead, a figure crossed her path. Though, it wasn’t a monster. This one was human. …or… it looked like it, at least.}
_{“—hey! …—you!”}

「♟」— H_{aze that lingered tauntingly before his eyes cleared only to greet another sweep of disorientation. Fog settling so lowly, thickly, and uncomfortably close to ground level was (needless to say) shockingly rare for their region and time of year. In fact, the blanket settled about the cement bones of a metropolis clung the interior of his lungs and throat to the point of near suffocation.}

_{There was an explanation —-}

_{—- everything could be rationalized.}

_{Nevertheless, the sensation of a looming threat (that he was all too closely acquainted with) inclined his grip to the hilt of his weapon. Making use of his pistol seldom occurred without just reason. Desperate, just reason. The final choice from the multitude ever present.}

_{Death was a punishment far too permanent, far too steep, and far too powerful to be tampered idly with.}

_{Fragmented breath lurched through the atmosphere, struck his ear, pricked his nerves. By the brief assessment of the quality, and the pace, the host of the sound was nothing short of exhausted. Either this specimen was recently subject to the natural anomaly clouding his vision, or swept up in a fit of lurid animosity towards anyone willing to so much as show their face without explanation.}

_{The first, of course, would be easier to handle.}

_{hey!…–you!}

_Hostile.
_Frightened.
_Perturbed.
_{a r m e d.}

_{Instinctually, his grip was filled elegantly with the sturdy, punishing presence of his weapon. His expression, however, was calm, sympathetic – lived this, he’s lived this before, likely would again.}