talk of many things, of cabbages and kings
Gwen has been reading through the journals from the past six months or so, all day today. She's locked out of a lot of posts, but also included in a lot, being a wanderer (an accurate enough term, she supposes, but she feels more like a refugee) and a resident, if only temporarily, of the Conrad basement.
And also not on any side. Yet.
It's a lot to process. And, granted, there are plenty of things she doesn't understand, and plenty of posts that hold absolutely no relevance to her at all, but...
She has the main gist of what's been going on. Angels and demons. Calisto. Brando. The plague. Romana and Elashte. Torchwood. The Doctor.
She's started thinking about it, a lot. There's another "Gwen Cooper" making entries, and she doesn't want to think too much on that, but... she doesn't understand why everyone seems to trust Torchwood. They seem to be rather dangerous, all things told, and not any more trustworthy than they were in Cardiff. At least the angels seem to be attempting keeping some kind of order, not general anarchy and chaos.
So, with her mind spinning around all this new information, starting to coagulate into opinions on the various recent happenings and politics, she settles down with a plate of food in the cafeteria.
You are more than welcome to mistake her for her doppleganger, or to just sit and have a chat.
And also not on any side. Yet.
It's a lot to process. And, granted, there are plenty of things she doesn't understand, and plenty of posts that hold absolutely no relevance to her at all, but...
She has the main gist of what's been going on. Angels and demons. Calisto. Brando. The plague. Romana and Elashte. Torchwood. The Doctor.
She's started thinking about it, a lot. There's another "Gwen Cooper" making entries, and she doesn't want to think too much on that, but... she doesn't understand why everyone seems to trust Torchwood. They seem to be rather dangerous, all things told, and not any more trustworthy than they were in Cardiff. At least the angels seem to be attempting keeping some kind of order, not general anarchy and chaos.
So, with her mind spinning around all this new information, starting to coagulate into opinions on the various recent happenings and politics, she settles down with a plate of food in the cafeteria.
You are more than welcome to mistake her for her doppleganger, or to just sit and have a chat.