so what's the use of going outside
WHO: Small Katurian and OPEN.
WHERE: Anywhere!
WHEN: Thursday morning through the afternoon.
WARNINGS: Traumatic (and sometimes happy!) childhoods.
SUMMARY: Katurian has rediscovered his abilities, and he can't get enough.
FORMAT: Whatever you desire! I personally will not be responding, but I encourage everyone to tl;dr about what Katurian sees in your character's past.
When Katurian discovers his abilities, he recognizes why the older version of him obsessively kept calendars. Some of the dates on the cheap, off-white paper he found in his nightstand are expanded by hours written in red ink. Fewer of them are expanded into whole days. Others are expanded by weeks.
Weeks.
When Katurian visits pasts, he comes back and the present doesn't change. The second hand on his watch is in the exact same place. He can get lost there, if he wants to.
The first past he escapes into belongs to a small boy on the steps of a church, except he isn't a small boy, because Katurian can feel years stretching and curving out of him. He tumbles into them like a crack in the sidewalk, into age nine, age eleven, age fifteen. The boy can see him in these pasts but no one else can, and he asks, why are you invisible? Who are you? And Katurian feels more powerful than anything. The ultimate observer. Omniscient.
He samples the pasts of anyone who gets too close. In most cases, he can speak with the person whose past he invades (later, he'll learn that these are city natives, the people that weren't brought in by the machine), but other times, he's invisible to everyone. He's a perfect ghost.
They all feel more like films - stories - than real life.
WHERE: Anywhere!
WHEN: Thursday morning through the afternoon.
WARNINGS: Traumatic (and sometimes happy!) childhoods.
SUMMARY: Katurian has rediscovered his abilities, and he can't get enough.
FORMAT: Whatever you desire! I personally will not be responding, but I encourage everyone to tl;dr about what Katurian sees in your character's past.
When Katurian discovers his abilities, he recognizes why the older version of him obsessively kept calendars. Some of the dates on the cheap, off-white paper he found in his nightstand are expanded by hours written in red ink. Fewer of them are expanded into whole days. Others are expanded by weeks.
Weeks.
When Katurian visits pasts, he comes back and the present doesn't change. The second hand on his watch is in the exact same place. He can get lost there, if he wants to.
The first past he escapes into belongs to a small boy on the steps of a church, except he isn't a small boy, because Katurian can feel years stretching and curving out of him. He tumbles into them like a crack in the sidewalk, into age nine, age eleven, age fifteen. The boy can see him in these pasts but no one else can, and he asks, why are you invisible? Who are you? And Katurian feels more powerful than anything. The ultimate observer. Omniscient.
He samples the pasts of anyone who gets too close. In most cases, he can speak with the person whose past he invades (later, he'll learn that these are city natives, the people that weren't brought in by the machine), but other times, he's invisible to everyone. He's a perfect ghost.
They all feel more like films - stories - than real life.