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}
1 - hope this is okay!
Date: 2011-02-03 05:46 pm (UTC)...Hey. Everything okay?
1 - /slides in early.
Date: 2011-02-03 08:13 pm (UTC)Good day. ...Are you...going to be all right?
[[She puts her hand on the back of the bench, leaving herself open to be hugged, but not going so far as to actually offer one to him.]]
Of course!
Date: 2011-02-03 09:53 pm (UTC)Hi, Kay. Uh-huh. Everything . . . Everything's fine.
no subject
Date: 2011-02-03 10:02 pm (UTC)I-I'll be fine, miss. Thanks . . .
no subject
Date: 2011-02-03 10:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-03 10:58 pm (UTC)You certainly don't look it. ...Let me guess, someone's been droned?
[[It isn't a hard guess for Theta--it's the only thing like death here, and the only thing that she thinks would warrant tears.]]
3
Date: 2011-02-03 11:09 pm (UTC)Never knew you were a shutterbug.
no subject
Date: 2011-02-04 02:39 am (UTC)It's nothing too important. Just. A close friend of mine's . . . gone. I know crying doesn't help anything, but . . .
[Lucas tries to speak as casually as he can. He knows it's stupid to cry.]
no subject
Date: 2011-02-04 02:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-04 02:52 am (UTC)[Lucas had a lie ready in place. He'd been running when he'd tripped and twisted his ankle and it had hurt quite a lot. But if she'd guessed so quickly, there wasn't much point in it.]
It's silly, but I couldn't help it.
no subject
Date: 2011-02-04 02:54 am (UTC)Hi, Miss Virginia. A-Ah. I'm sorry, I don't think I understood what you said . . .
no subject
Date: 2011-02-04 02:59 am (UTC)Sorry . . .
I think this is the twentieth time I've broken my promise to myself.
no subject
Date: 2011-02-04 03:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-04 03:05 am (UTC)I guess . . . I'm just kind of a crybaby.
no subject
Date: 2011-02-04 03:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-04 03:08 am (UTC)It's the only thing that's permanent around here. It's...quite natural to grieve, not silly at all.
no subject
Date: 2011-02-04 03:18 am (UTC)[oh, darn. lucas swallows a little and sniffs again, turning away.]
no subject
Date: 2011-02-04 03:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-04 03:22 am (UTC)No. No, it just means I won't see him again. Luke will be happier at home with the Professor.
[Forget everything he said three days ago, he wasn't going to believe that about his friends.]
no subject
Date: 2011-02-04 03:25 am (UTC)[After a little bit, he pulls his legs up and scrunches up into a ball, his face pressed into his knees.]
People from different worlds . . . I'll never see them again. It's hard . . .
no subject
Date: 2011-02-04 03:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-04 03:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-04 03:28 am (UTC)I know... it's really tough saying goodbye. Especially when you don't get the chance.
er, right, I guess I should say this is option 3, sorry ^^;;;
Date: 2011-02-04 03:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-04 03:33 am (UTC)