Jul 08, 2011 12:59
neverthegood: teagan ( au. ),
itwouldntbe: jeremy redmond ( au. ),
burntoobright: fallen tauzin,
forthismonster: nicola avery,
silver_leash: fallen tauzin ( au. ),
modern_red: scott mayvin,
leftafield: jeremiah southey,
int4glio: zinc,
ituncleared: lewis puckett,
fearsomefaith: gideon southey,
tachylite: asha de tisi,
eparpillement: jennifer lanaughee,
speaksfor: viyle trin,
#thanoodles,
kyanosweihan: jast albrin ( au. ),
skinsack: monroe,
magicologies: winnifred blethyn,
- members,
defythehunger: balthazar,
*action,
everybruise: eddie gavell,
yourpainismine: chiinah,
krystalle_tear: polina,
alsacelark: calendre de tisi,
duplicar: salem,
themuddyfox: desidero fuentes
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[ Gideon stares unashamedly - there's enough about this man to convince him that it is his brother, but after all these years and so far from' home, what were the chances? ]
Jeremiah.
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Gideon?
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You survived...
[there's no surprise in his voice: of anyone Gideon had known, he knew that Jeremiah would have been able to take care of himself. It's just a quiet, meditative statement - something he has to say out loud just so that he can process it.]
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... Yeah. Surprise. [there's a reluctant pause. Someone isn't very good at this.] What are you doing here?
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I'm not sure yet.
[it doesn't particularly work; he certainly doesn't feel any more cheery for trying and as soon as he's said it he knows it sounds facetious.]
I'm not ever sure where 'here' is. I know it's not the same as - [Gideon falters, unsure of what to call the world the home that they had known. He tries to remember his conversation with AJ.] - as our world.
How long have you been here?
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No idea, I haven't been keeping track. [but some things are impossible to ignore. Waking up in a different place every time, the presence of people who act like nothing ever happened. The absence of the things that made it happen.
He nods once, barely.] You alone?
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[at Gideon's feet is his travel-worn leather satchel and he quickly ducks to pick it up. He shoulders the strap and rummages around, looking for his journal and talking all the while without looking up]
From our home, I mean - [he sounds a little weary but at least going through his bag in search for his book is one way of deflecting the tension] - And all these other people don't know about 1986. It's like they're from the same place as us but the angels never happened.
[he slowly pulls his book from his bag, as if drawing out the time before he has to look back up again]
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... So what--[a pause. What about everybody else?] They're dead?
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[he tucks his journal under his arm] And I don't think - I don't think there are any angels here, either.
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How is that possible?
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... So that's it?
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I'm sorry - [this was awkward and horrible and the fact that Gideon doesn't know how to make it any better annoys him.] - I don't think I can explain.
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