Risan Night - [Risa, Evening]
He'd pulled a few more mechanical maneuvers before it got too dark to see, and without his penlight, he couldn't really work effectively anymore. So, he wandered down the beach, still just wearing his trousers and carrying the rest, on the other side of the docks. Without any lifeguards or lights, it was something more close to uninhabited; a little crescent below private mansions set high on a hill behind him. Meaning he was probably crashing a private beach, but he didn't see any lights and didn't figure anyone would care. On the other side of the docks was the still busy public beach, and he had no desire to go back that way.
He'd snagged some tangled fishing line from under a dock and rigged a silly little fishing pole. Not that he actually had a hope of catching anything, but he liked fishing regardless; he was tired enough to hold still and do it, for one. He wasn't really hungry after dinner, and Meira's one-off question still twisted around in his thoughts.
And the answer was still 'not yet'.
He left the PADD and communicator traceable, but the longer he stayed here, the more convinced he was that he probably could. He could survive, at least. Maybe someday thrive. The last time he'd felt so frightened of his future was when he had stepped onto the shuttle to Maryland for processing into Basic, and he had survived that. Mostly, though, he just didn't want to go back to that ship, surrounded by people who expected him to be that man, that other man he wasn't. That confined space where he didn't even have a purpose; not even survival.
He had never believed in fate, and he still didn't. But what do you do, when suddenly your very name doesn't even belong to you anymore?
He didn't know.
He sat with a rigged fishing pole for awhile, in pale sand colored in blues and purples from two moons, masked by the black silhouettes of trees. Sat there and felt tired and tried not to think. Sat there in paradise, and felt how far away from paradise it actually was.
And with a tired sigh, shaking it off and mentally telling himself to snap the Hell out of it, he abandoned his pole and gathered up the rest and headed back for the little hostel he'd reserved a room at. Fifteen credits a night; about half what he'd earned after dinner. It was a tiny room, barely six feet across. Just big enough for a little bed, and a positively tiny bathroom in back, and shelves to throw items on.
He squared away his gear, and dropped on the bed in his boxers, and was practically asleep before his body even settled into the mattress.
Wherever he went then... no questions, no answers. Just silence.
He'd snagged some tangled fishing line from under a dock and rigged a silly little fishing pole. Not that he actually had a hope of catching anything, but he liked fishing regardless; he was tired enough to hold still and do it, for one. He wasn't really hungry after dinner, and Meira's one-off question still twisted around in his thoughts.
And the answer was still 'not yet'.
He left the PADD and communicator traceable, but the longer he stayed here, the more convinced he was that he probably could. He could survive, at least. Maybe someday thrive. The last time he'd felt so frightened of his future was when he had stepped onto the shuttle to Maryland for processing into Basic, and he had survived that. Mostly, though, he just didn't want to go back to that ship, surrounded by people who expected him to be that man, that other man he wasn't. That confined space where he didn't even have a purpose; not even survival.
He had never believed in fate, and he still didn't. But what do you do, when suddenly your very name doesn't even belong to you anymore?
He didn't know.
He sat with a rigged fishing pole for awhile, in pale sand colored in blues and purples from two moons, masked by the black silhouettes of trees. Sat there and felt tired and tried not to think. Sat there in paradise, and felt how far away from paradise it actually was.
And with a tired sigh, shaking it off and mentally telling himself to snap the Hell out of it, he abandoned his pole and gathered up the rest and headed back for the little hostel he'd reserved a room at. Fifteen credits a night; about half what he'd earned after dinner. It was a tiny room, barely six feet across. Just big enough for a little bed, and a positively tiny bathroom in back, and shelves to throw items on.
He squared away his gear, and dropped on the bed in his boxers, and was practically asleep before his body even settled into the mattress.
Wherever he went then... no questions, no answers. Just silence.