somebody, somewhere, turns off the lights (closed)
Who: Manguy McDudeson aka David Webb (re_formed), Quatre Raberba Winner (ironinvelvet)
When: May 12th, late night
Where: Outlander Community Block
Format: paragraph, present-tense
What: David helps Quatre adjust to being a new arrival.
Warnings: n/a
In an open street, Quatre sits on a bench; he hunches over, head in his hands, and he thinks maybe he shouldn't (but his uniform is distinctive enough in this place), so the man can find him easily - the man whose name he doesn't know and, currently, only has a voice. ...that is brilliant. He considers using the Forge but leaves it in his pocket. The other man will find him, and Quatre can learn more about him, then; his mind is too preoccupied, anyway, to deal with so many people explaining Anatole to him again.
The entire concept is ridiculous, crazy. He has been magically taken away to another universe with people from other universes, and he can't leave? Yes, that is totally believable. ...only it is. Between how sincere the others were, the little things about the city (the anachronistic technology, the clothes many people wear, the buildings), and the familiar feeling of knowing with no explanation, it actually seems real; he knows it is.
He really has nothing else to keep himself in denial, and with that realization, he hunches over further and shuts his eyes tightly. The last stronghold of denial is in the 'this is really crazy' part, which Quatre has looped around enough times that it doesn't matter anymore; now, it's a slow process of acceptance and running back under the bed of denial, only to drag himself out, and run back again. Rinse and repeat. It's not a very rational process, but when is denial ever rational?
It doesn't help his head aches and his chest is tight, and when everyone in the city breathes out, he breathes in their everything. It's like being caught in the tides of an ocean - of emotions and, cliché as it sounds, it's true; the waves just crash over his head, one after the other, again and again, several at once even. Quatre does his best to let it wash over him, but it breaks his concentration, and he doesn't know how to stop it. (You can't turn off the heart of outer space.)
Somehow, though, he is managing. He has to; like Allen said, he can only walk forward.
When: May 12th, late night
Where: Outlander Community Block
Format: paragraph, present-tense
What: David helps Quatre adjust to being a new arrival.
Warnings: n/a
In an open street, Quatre sits on a bench; he hunches over, head in his hands, and he thinks maybe he shouldn't (but his uniform is distinctive enough in this place), so the man can find him easily - the man whose name he doesn't know and, currently, only has a voice. ...that is brilliant. He considers using the Forge but leaves it in his pocket. The other man will find him, and Quatre can learn more about him, then; his mind is too preoccupied, anyway, to deal with so many people explaining Anatole to him again.
The entire concept is ridiculous, crazy. He has been magically taken away to another universe with people from other universes, and he can't leave? Yes, that is totally believable. ...only it is. Between how sincere the others were, the little things about the city (the anachronistic technology, the clothes many people wear, the buildings), and the familiar feeling of knowing with no explanation, it actually seems real; he knows it is.
He really has nothing else to keep himself in denial, and with that realization, he hunches over further and shuts his eyes tightly. The last stronghold of denial is in the 'this is really crazy' part, which Quatre has looped around enough times that it doesn't matter anymore; now, it's a slow process of acceptance and running back under the bed of denial, only to drag himself out, and run back again. Rinse and repeat. It's not a very rational process, but when is denial ever rational?
It doesn't help his head aches and his chest is tight, and when everyone in the city breathes out, he breathes in their everything. It's like being caught in the tides of an ocean - of emotions and, cliché as it sounds, it's true; the waves just crash over his head, one after the other, again and again, several at once even. Quatre does his best to let it wash over him, but it breaks his concentration, and he doesn't know how to stop it. (You can't turn off the heart of outer space.)
Somehow, though, he is managing. He has to; like Allen said, he can only walk forward.