(no subject)
While Brendan, at times, could be almost painfully practical and rational, he also prided himself on his adaptability. Recruited out of college to the NSA by his - at the time - completely unassuming mathematics professor? Okay, no problem. Telepathic partner who can read his mind? ... Alright, he could roll with that, too. Magical island inhabited by formerly-thought-of-as fictional characters? You were pushing it, but hey - at this point, Brendan hadn't completely ruled out mental illness.
But then, waking up as his 9-year-old-self (but yes, yes, yes, he still had his suit), that was kind of hard to take. Still, after having examined small hands, and small fingers, and God - he needed his glasses again - Brendan had ... maybe not adjusted, but accepted. And the island was weirdly consistent in its own way, which meant that: a) it wasn't just him; b) they would turn back eventually; c) all he could do was go with it and wait for it to pass.
Besides, through it all, some things always remained constant. Pi was always 3.1415926535897 ... and so on; the sun set in the west and rose in the east; water froze at 32 degrees Celsius; and Smarties were far superior to M&Ms. And while it was true that he couldn't necessarily test all those things right at that moment, he was confident enough in their - their actuality, that he didn't have to.
But man, some Smarties would have been awesome right then. Smarties and Ronon. Where was Ronon anyway? Brendan had already changed and put on the small pair of glasses that had appeared next to his bed, but Ronon was nowhere to be found. Maybe he had run off?
Brendan scratched his head and peered over to Ronon's side of the room, noticing for the first time there was a smallish lump under the covers of Ronon's bed. Oh God, was Ronon .... scared? He supposed it was possible.
"Aw, hey, buddy - it's okay! We'll change - " Brendan went over to the bed and threw back the covers and gaped at what he saw. It wasn't Ronon. It was a Jack-O-Lantern. A big, fat, Jack-O-Lantern with a jagged smile and triangular eyes and large candle burning inside. Oh God. RONON HAD TURNED INTO A PUMPKIN!
"Ronon!" Brendan shrieked. He went over and popped the lid off, peering inside. "Ronon!" The flame of the candle flickered with the force of Brendan's breath and he quickly slammed the lid down again. He couldn't let Ronon's candle go out! Oh God, this was a disaster! "It's okay, buddy, I'll get you some help!"
He hefted the pumpkin up into his arms (and Ronon just had to be heavy, didn't he?) and burst out of the front door, heading for the Compound.
He just hoped he didn't trip along the way and splatter Ronon's vulnerable, warm, pumpkin guts all over the ground.
[ooc: find Brendan anywhere between New Atlantis and the Compound :)]
But then, waking up as his 9-year-old-self (but yes, yes, yes, he still had his suit), that was kind of hard to take. Still, after having examined small hands, and small fingers, and God - he needed his glasses again - Brendan had ... maybe not adjusted, but accepted. And the island was weirdly consistent in its own way, which meant that: a) it wasn't just him; b) they would turn back eventually; c) all he could do was go with it and wait for it to pass.
Besides, through it all, some things always remained constant. Pi was always 3.1415926535897 ... and so on; the sun set in the west and rose in the east; water froze at 32 degrees Celsius; and Smarties were far superior to M&Ms. And while it was true that he couldn't necessarily test all those things right at that moment, he was confident enough in their - their actuality, that he didn't have to.
But man, some Smarties would have been awesome right then. Smarties and Ronon. Where was Ronon anyway? Brendan had already changed and put on the small pair of glasses that had appeared next to his bed, but Ronon was nowhere to be found. Maybe he had run off?
Brendan scratched his head and peered over to Ronon's side of the room, noticing for the first time there was a smallish lump under the covers of Ronon's bed. Oh God, was Ronon .... scared? He supposed it was possible.
"Aw, hey, buddy - it's okay! We'll change - " Brendan went over to the bed and threw back the covers and gaped at what he saw. It wasn't Ronon. It was a Jack-O-Lantern. A big, fat, Jack-O-Lantern with a jagged smile and triangular eyes and large candle burning inside. Oh God. RONON HAD TURNED INTO A PUMPKIN!
"Ronon!" Brendan shrieked. He went over and popped the lid off, peering inside. "Ronon!" The flame of the candle flickered with the force of Brendan's breath and he quickly slammed the lid down again. He couldn't let Ronon's candle go out! Oh God, this was a disaster! "It's okay, buddy, I'll get you some help!"
He hefted the pumpkin up into his arms (and Ronon just had to be heavy, didn't he?) and burst out of the front door, heading for the Compound.
He just hoped he didn't trip along the way and splatter Ronon's vulnerable, warm, pumpkin guts all over the ground.
[ooc: find Brendan anywhere between New Atlantis and the Compound :)]