Thirtieth PSI
Feb. 3rd, 2011 11:38 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
a_gentle_boy[action, dated back a few days]
[He'd heard from Rin that both Roshian and Giriko had gone in a single night. Though he wasn't very fond of them himself, he remembered how distraught Luke had been for those few weeks when his 'mother' had been droned, and how happy he'd been to have her back. The two of them . . . They were obviously important to his friend.
He isn't surprised when he rings the doorbell to be greeted by Roshian's smiling face. She pats him on the head. 'Luke was upstairs.' Evidently, she still remembered that they were friends. They were the same age, after all, in the same classes. And if he thought about it . . . Luke was the first real friend he'd made here and still his closest. He nods to the drone, quickly hurrying up, a jigsaw puzzle tucked underneath his arm, a small box of chocolate held in his hands. If Luke felt even half as badly as he had when the Netherlands had gone, or Margot . . .
But the moment he walks through the bedroom door to be greeted, his face falls. No cap. Nothing blue. No trace of that interesting way of speaking Luke had. Around the room . . . No Gizmo. No home pictures. And now that he thinks about it . . . no funny robot on the front lawn.
It is suddenly very difficult to swallow. He carefully walks to the desk, setting his presents down, barely capable of doing so without trembling. His hands . . . Lucas shoves them into his pockets quickly. As he backs away, a small box set atop the desk catches his attention out of the corner of his eye. "For Lucas". Turning to the drone boy to ask in a casual manner, he is greeted with mild surprise. If it had his name on it, certainly, it was for him. Once again, his shaking hands can hardly grasp ahold of the object, but he manages it in the end. And when he turns to leave, he doesn't even apologize as he accidentally sweeps a stack of books off the desk.
He stumbles down the steps and out the front door, clutching the box to his chest. The heaving of his chest as he runs . . . He can pretend that it is because of the exertion that his chest has become so tight. Not because it has become so hard to breathe. Not because of the tears that flow, unwanted, from his eyes.
. . . Goodbye, Luke. May you solve every puzzle that arises to challenge you.]
1. Alone in the park, Lucas finds the most isolated bench he possibly can and eases into it, still holding the box to his chest. He has an inkling of what's inside. The same reason he had shown Luke where he kept his box . . . Now, though, he simply sits. And allows himself, after a few futile moments, to cry softly.
2. He has calmed down enough to go through the things that had been left to him. Just as with the Netherlands, just as he himself did, Luke had kept notes. Lucas dries his tears, looking through each piece of information carefully. It's hard for him to understand right now, but . . . He will go through everything again when he's in a less harried state of mind. The Westport notes.
3. It had been too late for Luke. But it didn't have to be that way for anyone else. Not if he hurried up with this. Lucas is too shy to take pictures of people, but late into the afternoon, he is in the park with an ancient, half-broken camera, practicing taking pictures of trees and squirrels and snowdrifts . . .
((A bit deliberately less accessible than the usual entry, so I'm going to ask that no more than 3-4 people respond to the first prompt. Thanks.))
[He'd heard from Rin that both Roshian and Giriko had gone in a single night. Though he wasn't very fond of them himself, he remembered how distraught Luke had been for those few weeks when his 'mother' had been droned, and how happy he'd been to have her back. The two of them . . . They were obviously important to his friend.
He isn't surprised when he rings the doorbell to be greeted by Roshian's smiling face. She pats him on the head. 'Luke was upstairs.' Evidently, she still remembered that they were friends. They were the same age, after all, in the same classes. And if he thought about it . . . Luke was the first real friend he'd made here and still his closest. He nods to the drone, quickly hurrying up, a jigsaw puzzle tucked underneath his arm, a small box of chocolate held in his hands. If Luke felt even half as badly as he had when the Netherlands had gone, or Margot . . .
But the moment he walks through the bedroom door to be greeted, his face falls. No cap. Nothing blue. No trace of that interesting way of speaking Luke had. Around the room . . . No Gizmo. No home pictures. And now that he thinks about it . . . no funny robot on the front lawn.
It is suddenly very difficult to swallow. He carefully walks to the desk, setting his presents down, barely capable of doing so without trembling. His hands . . . Lucas shoves them into his pockets quickly. As he backs away, a small box set atop the desk catches his attention out of the corner of his eye. "For Lucas". Turning to the drone boy to ask in a casual manner, he is greeted with mild surprise. If it had his name on it, certainly, it was for him. Once again, his shaking hands can hardly grasp ahold of the object, but he manages it in the end. And when he turns to leave, he doesn't even apologize as he accidentally sweeps a stack of books off the desk.
He stumbles down the steps and out the front door, clutching the box to his chest. The heaving of his chest as he runs . . . He can pretend that it is because of the exertion that his chest has become so tight. Not because it has become so hard to breathe. Not because of the tears that flow, unwanted, from his eyes.
. . . Goodbye, Luke. May you solve every puzzle that arises to challenge you.]
1. Alone in the park, Lucas finds the most isolated bench he possibly can and eases into it, still holding the box to his chest. He has an inkling of what's inside. The same reason he had shown Luke where he kept his box . . . Now, though, he simply sits. And allows himself, after a few futile moments, to cry softly.
2. He has calmed down enough to go through the things that had been left to him. Just as with the Netherlands, just as he himself did, Luke had kept notes. Lucas dries his tears, looking through each piece of information carefully. It's hard for him to understand right now, but . . . He will go through everything again when he's in a less harried state of mind. The Westport notes.
3. It had been too late for Luke. But it didn't have to be that way for anyone else. Not if he hurried up with this. Lucas is too shy to take pictures of people, but late into the afternoon, he is in the park with an ancient, half-broken camera, practicing taking pictures of trees and squirrels and snowdrifts . . .
((A bit deliberately less accessible than the usual entry, so I'm going to ask that no more than 3-4 people respond to the first prompt. Thanks.))
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-02-05 06:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-06 04:39 am (UTC)I'd like that a lot. Do you think you could pose, even?
no subject
Date: 2011-02-06 06:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-06 10:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-06 11:30 pm (UTC)... Except, yanno, with only one arm.-
no subject
Date: 2011-02-07 02:27 am (UTC)[Lucas looks through the viewfinder. As he thought, it doesn't fit. He backs up. . . . Still doesn't fit. Back up, back up, ba -- OW. Click. His finger pushes the button as he recoils forward from hitting his head on a tree branch.]
. . .
no subject
Date: 2011-02-07 09:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-07 04:39 pm (UTC)[Lucas had fallen into a squatting position and he rubs a little at the bump on his head. His hand glows momentarily and he leaps up in short order to show that he is OK - narrowly missing the branch again.]
I think I ruined the shot, though . . .
no subject
Date: 2011-02-08 12:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-08 01:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-08 07:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-08 09:57 pm (UTC)[And Lucas leans back and -- gosh this kid is pretty hopeless -- lightly bounces against the tree branch again, but ignores it and hopes Virginia didn't notice. He looks carefully through the viewfinder and . . . ]
Click!
I think that's good! Were my hands shaking at all? I'm not sure . . .
no subject
Date: 2011-02-09 03:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-09 04:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-09 06:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-10 03:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-10 04:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-10 04:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-10 06:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-11 12:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-11 05:46 am (UTC)... Especially now that Jet's gone.
Back from hiatus! Feel free to drop the thread if you don't care to continue.
Date: 2011-02-14 02:49 am (UTC)((What is this about her arm? Did she lose it in the Post Office?))
no subject
Date: 2011-02-14 08:49 am (UTC)[[ She lost it in the Christmas event. Jet was originally going to restore it once his nanomachines were regained, but the mun idled out. ]]
no subject
Date: 2011-02-14 09:23 pm (UTC). . . Was he from your world?
no subject
Date: 2011-02-15 12:42 am (UTC)(no subject)
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