.oo3 // ACTION + VOICE (the night of the 19th; ANGST PART 1 OF 2.)
ACTION;
[ well. this time of year is pretty tough for barnaby. and by 'pretty tough' i mean 'basically entirely awful'. the past few years had been a bit better than usual -- he'd been distracted by ouroboros, and becoming a hero, and no doubt kotetsu's influence had been a factor not that he'd ever admit it, but now?
he has a lot to think about.
maverick's betrayal. samantha's death. the knowledge that his life was, for all intents and purposes, one big lie. the weight of it all has yet to come crashing down on him, but it's beginning to creep in at the corners of his consciousness. regardless, more than anything, he's thinking about his parents. coming back from the draft to the sight of all the snow and lights is somewhat .. jarring. he's been so distracted by everything and anything that barnaby hardly noticed the season creeping up on him until he's been all but punched in the face by it.
so here he stands in the early-evening dark, looking up at the broad face of community housing one, watching the lights blink merrily down at him. they're so pretty, but he can't help but hate them. ]
VOICE;
[ an hour or so later he's tucked back into his apartment, the journal open on his bed as he rests his chin in one hand, and swirls a tall glass of rosé wine in the other. ]
I don't suppose there's much of a night-life here, is there?
[ well. this time of year is pretty tough for barnaby. and by 'pretty tough' i mean 'basically entirely awful'. the past few years had been a bit better than usual -- he'd been distracted by ouroboros, and becoming a hero, and no doubt kotetsu's influence had been a factor not that he'd ever admit it, but now?
he has a lot to think about.
maverick's betrayal. samantha's death. the knowledge that his life was, for all intents and purposes, one big lie. the weight of it all has yet to come crashing down on him, but it's beginning to creep in at the corners of his consciousness. regardless, more than anything, he's thinking about his parents. coming back from the draft to the sight of all the snow and lights is somewhat .. jarring. he's been so distracted by everything and anything that barnaby hardly noticed the season creeping up on him until he's been all but punched in the face by it.
so here he stands in the early-evening dark, looking up at the broad face of community housing one, watching the lights blink merrily down at him. they're so pretty, but he can't help but hate them. ]
VOICE;
[ an hour or so later he's tucked back into his apartment, the journal open on his bed as he rests his chin in one hand, and swirls a tall glass of rosé wine in the other. ]
I don't suppose there's much of a night-life here, is there?