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: 2011-02-08 01:54 am (UTC)That was Luke. I told him some of it, but it was Luke who was reading it to everyone.
[And that thought is eliciting those emotions again, so Lucas jumps to the different topic after a moment or two of quiet.]
This person you said you got the information from . . . How long has he been here?
no subject
Date: 2011-02-08 02:02 am (UTC)[[She doesn't miss how he goes quiet and sad, but that's precisely why she doesn't dwell on it, either.]]
no subject
Date: 2011-02-08 02:18 am (UTC)I'd like to know if anyone's figured out anything about the Russian man. Mr. Sergei.
no subject
Date: 2011-02-08 02:28 am (UTC)I've been over it so many times, but I wouldn't say I figured out anything. I'll tell you what I know, if you like.
no subject
Date: 2011-02-08 02:38 am (UTC)[Lucas stares for a moment or two, his instinctive reaction to ask 'Were you OK?', but that was dumb. Of course this person had been punished.]
I don't want to make you think about anything unpleasant, but . . . I would. Only if you don't mind.
no subject
Date: 2011-02-08 03:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-08 03:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-08 03:55 am (UTC)lack ofsanity is showing...]]We all went down ~fighting~. Except for me. I got shot quite early on because Grady broke all my fingers and lit me on fire. [[And her sum total reaction to that is...to sulk. Not really traumatised. But she does start pulling herself back out of the vicinity of crazy and calming down again.]]
no subject
Date: 2011-02-08 04:38 am (UTC)I'm sorry, mister. . . . To put you through something like that. A lot of people died then, but torture is just . . . wrong.
How did he find out?
no subject
Date: 2011-02-08 05:47 am (UTC)I think by that point they were destroying all the houses. We...happened to be the ones hiding him.
no subject
Date: 2011-02-08 09:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-08 10:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-09 03:59 am (UTC)Um. Well . . . Thanks for letting me know about that. Grady didn't say anything you think might have been important then, did he?
no subject
Date: 2011-02-09 04:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-09 04:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-09 05:01 am (UTC)It's just frustrating when the good bits occasionally happen after.
no subject
Date: 2011-02-10 03:44 am (UTC)It's good that you're not afraid of them, I think.
[Lucas is really starting to grasp for compliments now.]
no subject
Date: 2011-02-10 04:25 am (UTC)Well, ultimately that's beside the point. I just wish I had something more helpful.
no subject
Date: 2011-02-10 04:29 am (UTC). . . I don't want to keep you too long, either. Um. So, thanks for . . . sitting.
[Lucas trails off a little awkwardly. His tears had been forgotten by now, and that's partly because he was so thoroughly sidetracked.]
no subject
Date: 2011-02-10 04:41 am (UTC)Of course. [[She smiles for him, then slowly stands and starts to limp off to continue her walk.]]
no subject
Date: 2011-02-10 05:10 am (UTC)[He'll watch the person go for a time before slowly returning his attention back towards the box.]