[OPEN]
WHO: Cuba [labayamesa] & Canada [true_north_will]. OPEN.
WHEN: Morning.
WHERE: Pool area.
WHAT: Cuba, missing the feel of his oceans, seeks solace in the waters of the pool. They don't feel the same but at least he can pretend.
RATING: TBA.
NOTE[S]: One-on-one threads please.
The drugs had taken a long time to clear from his mind. They were a foreign substance, something he was not use to, something that flowed through his veins and made his body itch, his subconscious lazy and the thoughts of the events of the passing days shift through like slow drawings in the back of his mind with a heavy pastel. Hands and ideals drew patterns of disbelief and whispered words, dark lies, into his senses, against the shell of his ear that felt like a cold breeze, a wind that made his body tremble in his sleep. What the people, the demons of this facility had been feeding him did more than frighten and caused his worries to upstart, it enraged him but whatever they had placed under his skin before made it hard for him to react. All their falsities, all their secrets.
They were like sin and even as he sat there staring to what seemed to be beyond the wall before him, he still felt listless and very much unlike himself. This was not who he was and the confusion of what the false doctors had told him made his head hurt even more with each beat of his heart, the pain obvious in his dark eyes. He needed the sun and the light, he needed the sea and even sitting on the pools edge with his legs in the water did nothing for him. Pant legs rolled up he allowed his gaze to look from the wall that bared him from the outside world and down to his reflection in the water.
I am Cuba, he thought silently to himself, his lips parting. "Soy Cuba." He whispered, his voice raspy and distant.
Cuba knew this was out of character for him and closed his eyes tightly, pursing his lips together. He needed someone to blame for this while within the darkness and the light convened. Damn civil movements, cursed government not even run by his own people! When would it be his turn to finally have control, to completely be Cuba and have his people succeed and prosper by their own accord? Cuba clenched his fists and kicked violently at the water, watching the surface disrupt. He wanted to go home and he wanted out of this mess now.
WHEN: Morning.
WHERE: Pool area.
WHAT: Cuba, missing the feel of his oceans, seeks solace in the waters of the pool. They don't feel the same but at least he can pretend.
RATING: TBA.
NOTE[S]: One-on-one threads please.
The drugs had taken a long time to clear from his mind. They were a foreign substance, something he was not use to, something that flowed through his veins and made his body itch, his subconscious lazy and the thoughts of the events of the passing days shift through like slow drawings in the back of his mind with a heavy pastel. Hands and ideals drew patterns of disbelief and whispered words, dark lies, into his senses, against the shell of his ear that felt like a cold breeze, a wind that made his body tremble in his sleep. What the people, the demons of this facility had been feeding him did more than frighten and caused his worries to upstart, it enraged him but whatever they had placed under his skin before made it hard for him to react. All their falsities, all their secrets.
They were like sin and even as he sat there staring to what seemed to be beyond the wall before him, he still felt listless and very much unlike himself. This was not who he was and the confusion of what the false doctors had told him made his head hurt even more with each beat of his heart, the pain obvious in his dark eyes. He needed the sun and the light, he needed the sea and even sitting on the pools edge with his legs in the water did nothing for him. Pant legs rolled up he allowed his gaze to look from the wall that bared him from the outside world and down to his reflection in the water.
I am Cuba, he thought silently to himself, his lips parting. "Soy Cuba." He whispered, his voice raspy and distant.
Cuba knew this was out of character for him and closed his eyes tightly, pursing his lips together. He needed someone to blame for this while within the darkness and the light convened. Damn civil movements, cursed government not even run by his own people! When would it be his turn to finally have control, to completely be Cuba and have his people succeed and prosper by their own accord? Cuba clenched his fists and kicked violently at the water, watching the surface disrupt. He wanted to go home and he wanted out of this mess now.