![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Project Harvester AU
Feb. 5th, 2018 06:00 pmArmitage itched everywhere, not an itch that he could do anything about, but an ever-present near-electric buzz behind his eyes, under his skin, gathering at the base of his skull in a way that made him irritable.
He knew that without the inhibitor around his wrist it would have been so much worse, the same way he knew that it meant something was coming, and not the kind of something to look forward to. He didn't have visions like some of the others, he might have had without the inhibitor, but the only time they took it off of him was during training or when they were running tests, because every time he tried to use his abilities on purpose the control just slipped through his fingers but he could use them instinctively, and usually to protect himself.
That, more than anything, was the reason for the inhibitor. Because even after a decade of trying he still didn't have any more control than he'd had when he'd first arrived there all of six years old. He'd never really made friends, he'd never really wanted to, he knew after the first year that those who didn't learn vanished, or had some sort of unfortunate accident. By the time he was ten, the rumors had reached saturation, that even though he couldn't -or didn't want to- learn to control his abilities, he'd survived, the only one left of the group he'd arrived with.
The buzzing had reached a plateau after morning meal, and he'd given up trying to get an actual answer out of anyone, the other trainees didn't know anything more than he did, and if they did, it wasn't as if they were going to tell him, so in lieu of trying to wrench answers out of anyone, he'd simply returned to his quarters, pacing the small cell, and trying to will the sensation of something's going to happen away to something manageable.
He knew that without the inhibitor around his wrist it would have been so much worse, the same way he knew that it meant something was coming, and not the kind of something to look forward to. He didn't have visions like some of the others, he might have had without the inhibitor, but the only time they took it off of him was during training or when they were running tests, because every time he tried to use his abilities on purpose the control just slipped through his fingers but he could use them instinctively, and usually to protect himself.
That, more than anything, was the reason for the inhibitor. Because even after a decade of trying he still didn't have any more control than he'd had when he'd first arrived there all of six years old. He'd never really made friends, he'd never really wanted to, he knew after the first year that those who didn't learn vanished, or had some sort of unfortunate accident. By the time he was ten, the rumors had reached saturation, that even though he couldn't -or didn't want to- learn to control his abilities, he'd survived, the only one left of the group he'd arrived with.
The buzzing had reached a plateau after morning meal, and he'd given up trying to get an actual answer out of anyone, the other trainees didn't know anything more than he did, and if they did, it wasn't as if they were going to tell him, so in lieu of trying to wrench answers out of anyone, he'd simply returned to his quarters, pacing the small cell, and trying to will the sensation of something's going to happen away to something manageable.
