Right. So. The island was doing a thing. And Jono had no idea what that thing was, but that wasn't stopping him from being paranoid enough to invite Alluka to spend the night ( Read more... )

It was the silence that woke Jonothon up. Not that the house was any more quiet than it usually was, really. This was Fandom. There was always some sort of noise, even if it was something as subtle as the flapping of flamingos stretching their wings on the lawn ( Read more... )

Things were still a bit muddied. Still a bit like wading through grotty swampwater simply to form a coherent thought in his head. But, Jonothon supposed, at least that was the worst of it. Sitting in a fog unable to figure out where most of himself had gone was, by and large, not as terrible a fate as sitting in a fog, slowly being poisoned away by ( Read more... )

( It had hurt, once... (Cut for more depression/drug use!) )

Jono didn't want to get up. Oh, he had spent most of Saturday thinking about it, about maybe going to feed the cats or perhaps try to play guitar or something. To do something productive with himself. Except with the way the island's collective psyche was beating down on his head now, even the thought of leaving the room seemed daunting.

( Just to be safe, cut for not-even-subtle references to depression and drugs. )

After a job well done and still in progress yesterday, Jono was back in Fandom for the day to get his bearings again before heading back to Kaeleer. It wasn't that he was avoiding Glacia, per se, so much as all of the dirty work that needed to be done at the moment had been, and he missed little things like, oh, electricity ( Read more... )

Jonothon hadn't left his room in two days, now.

He couldn't bring himself to. Nothing was quite right about anything since Sunday night, and what the hell was he supposed to do even if he did? Wander around waving hello to people? Hope he didn't trip over something? Just casually wander into the clothing store and ask what they had in their stock ( Read more... )

Sometimes, you just had to go walking in the rain.

Maybe it was because of a week spent cooped up in one place. Maybe it was because of whispers and murmurs that had taken to following you around no matter where you went. Maybe it was just a whim.

( Cut for Length, References to Concentration Camps, and some good old-fashioned Body Horror. )

Jono had woken up today with a headache. Or, rather, with a roiling sense of wrong that surged and twisted and beat away at the inside of his head as though an entire footie team was running practise in there, cleats and all ( Read more... )