God I can't believe I'm in so deep as to wanting to write Fic again- I subscribe to the "Jon grows more eyes" headcanon and wanted to noodle around with that, so take this incredibly rough starter of a one-shot I started writing on my way home! I hope you enjoy, feedback is welcome, and let me know if this is something yall would be interested in reading? ;w;
Im so sorry if the readmore doesnt work, Im on mobile and honestly its a gamble there hahaha
Jon can't remember when it started, exactly. Was it only a few days after he had awoken from his once ceaseless slumber? Or had it been weeks later, on one of those late nights where he sat in his office at the Archives; the last to leave, his body slumped over his desk as he pinched the bridge of his nose- glasses pushed up into unkempt and greying, wavy hair. There had been many of those nights, caught between isolation and exhaustion where the pull of a cigarette was impossible to ignore and hed find himself leaning against those (LOOK UP ARCHIVES WALL COLOUR) walls staring listlessly up at the night sky. The cool stillness of the night was a comfort to him, a reminder that he could still feel it, and, with a shudder, that at least some part of him was still human.
Regardless of when it first started, Jon could certainly remember how it felt.
It started off small; an idle feeling that was easy enough to brush off without much concern. He'd scratch at the palm of his hand, it would settle, and he'd get back to documenting statements. When it started to persist however, that was when worry began to creep in at the edges of his already rather frail mind. It was hard to ignore the possibility of being effected by one of the other powers- the corruption? -and harder still when a splotchy red rash began to spread. It never went further than his wrist however, and that itch slowly but steadily turned into a burn.
