(no subject)
It'd started as a regular day which, in Terry's life, meant she was bored for most of it. She had little pockets of time here and there with things to do, but otherwise, she'd spent her day walking the island, unable to settle on finding something to do, and thus not doing a thing at all.
Which meant her mind got free reign.
Usually life moved too fast for Terry; from X-Force to X Corps to X-Factor, she'd never gotten the chance to take a breather and just think for a while, and in retrospect she's grateful. Had she any chance to really sit back and think about the sort of life she'd been living with X-Force, it might have paralyzed her-- and that's not the sort of person Terry's ever been, anyway.
She isn't having a bad time of it right now, far from it, but with Rahne's arrival, Terry's reminded that life's been moving along back home with or without her, and she can't decide if that's a good thing or not. Here, she's got her father, she's got Brad, she's got real friends and an easy life. But she doesn't have the action she's lived with for ten years, she doesn't have her power, and she doesn't have purpose.
The scales keep dipping, never settling on one side or another, and it's making Terry restless.
By the time she makes it up the path and around the compound, Terry's walked for what feels like hours, and shaded the bench in the orchard seems a good spot as any for a rest. She walks along the garden toward the orchard, one hand held out to trail over some of the taller plants. There's a lot to be said for the power of memory, and even more for fighting it. As steeped in abandonment and hurt as her past is, Terry doesn't like nostalgia much, even if tending to her small garden at the Keep's always been some of her happier memories.
But when she spots some weeds in the corner of the garden, she slows to a stop, hand still stretched out before she lets it drop to her side. She barely has to think about it before she crouches down and pulls the weeds up. Her hands are clumsy but they remember what to do, and soon she's on her knees in the soil, working out a few more some feet down.
A few minutes pass and Terry sits back on her legs with a small, satisfied smile. She'll need to wash up after this, scrub away the dirt on her hands (on her forehead, a smudge she doesn't realize is there) and knees, but for now, Terry's happier than she's been all day.
Which meant her mind got free reign.
Usually life moved too fast for Terry; from X-Force to X Corps to X-Factor, she'd never gotten the chance to take a breather and just think for a while, and in retrospect she's grateful. Had she any chance to really sit back and think about the sort of life she'd been living with X-Force, it might have paralyzed her-- and that's not the sort of person Terry's ever been, anyway.
She isn't having a bad time of it right now, far from it, but with Rahne's arrival, Terry's reminded that life's been moving along back home with or without her, and she can't decide if that's a good thing or not. Here, she's got her father, she's got Brad, she's got real friends and an easy life. But she doesn't have the action she's lived with for ten years, she doesn't have her power, and she doesn't have purpose.
The scales keep dipping, never settling on one side or another, and it's making Terry restless.
By the time she makes it up the path and around the compound, Terry's walked for what feels like hours, and shaded the bench in the orchard seems a good spot as any for a rest. She walks along the garden toward the orchard, one hand held out to trail over some of the taller plants. There's a lot to be said for the power of memory, and even more for fighting it. As steeped in abandonment and hurt as her past is, Terry doesn't like nostalgia much, even if tending to her small garden at the Keep's always been some of her happier memories.
But when she spots some weeds in the corner of the garden, she slows to a stop, hand still stretched out before she lets it drop to her side. She barely has to think about it before she crouches down and pulls the weeds up. Her hands are clumsy but they remember what to do, and soon she's on her knees in the soil, working out a few more some feet down.
A few minutes pass and Terry sits back on her legs with a small, satisfied smile. She'll need to wash up after this, scrub away the dirt on her hands (on her forehead, a smudge she doesn't realize is there) and knees, but for now, Terry's happier than she's been all day.