I just listen to the wind. It said 59? Nail 'im.
[The damage to her room has been cleared. The ruined painting was slowly being replaced, a half-finished canvas started in her church-studio. And her friends, it seemed, had all made it back more or less intact from their latest fiasco.
Part of her was happy.
Another part was just tired. With Bruce gone, there was no way to reearn his trust. Karen was gone, so there was no one calling her out for her failure to communicate about Legato earlier. And the Doctor was unconscious, another castle-caused disruption that left things...quiet. And unfinished.
There were a lot of things that were unfinished.
She's in a wandering mood today and, after her art class finishes, she finds herself sitting at the fountain in town, sketchbook open as she watches people wandering past...but she's not drawing much today. Instead, she addresses the journal]
It's not just the things that happen here that we forget. It's back home. I've been here a year and a half... A little over, actually... and I'm not even sure when the last time was that I really talked about Newford. Or my friends there. It's like it's becoming fully separate from who I am here and...I don't want that. Not at all.
I want to remember Christy's stories and the Professor's long lectures and Wendy's poetry and Sophie's horrible luck with technology. I want to remember them. Just like I want to remember here.
[a small pause] How about any of you? If you've got stories about home...I'd like to hear them. If anyone else is in the mood to share.
[OOC: Open over the journals or in person. She's not in a bad mood. Just...a thoughtful one.]
Part of her was happy.
Another part was just tired. With Bruce gone, there was no way to reearn his trust. Karen was gone, so there was no one calling her out for her failure to communicate about Legato earlier. And the Doctor was unconscious, another castle-caused disruption that left things...quiet. And unfinished.
There were a lot of things that were unfinished.
She's in a wandering mood today and, after her art class finishes, she finds herself sitting at the fountain in town, sketchbook open as she watches people wandering past...but she's not drawing much today. Instead, she addresses the journal]
It's not just the things that happen here that we forget. It's back home. I've been here a year and a half... A little over, actually... and I'm not even sure when the last time was that I really talked about Newford. Or my friends there. It's like it's becoming fully separate from who I am here and...I don't want that. Not at all.
I want to remember Christy's stories and the Professor's long lectures and Wendy's poetry and Sophie's horrible luck with technology. I want to remember them. Just like I want to remember here.
[a small pause] How about any of you? If you've got stories about home...I'd like to hear them. If anyone else is in the mood to share.
[OOC: Open over the journals or in person. She's not in a bad mood. Just...a thoughtful one.]