(no subject)
Three months on the island, and Lux still hasn't seen the ocean.
The ridiculousness of this fact doesn't escape her. By now it feels like another lifetime ago that Eric was supposed to introduce her to the shore, and there's really no good reason to hold onto the sentiment anymore unless her own innate sense of stubbornness could be counted. All this time, she's been waiting for a golden opportunity, for a reason to make it special, has built it up in her mind all the way from a billboard outside Portland to here. It's stupid and juvenile, but only now has that occurred to her.
So, she'll go. Alone, maybe, because it feels so odd to find Jason and ask for his company, not because he's incapable of understanding but because she's not sure she wants him to. There's never a good time to tell your boyfriend that you've been putting off looking at the ocean because some other guy in some other reality promised to take you there. None of this is really about Eric, but Lux doesn't trust herself to convey that clearly enough.
The sky is clear and dark blue, a mantle of stars twinkling above her as she sets out, sneakers hitting the boardwalk with purpose. The direction she chooses from the Compound is arbitrary, ocean at either end, and though her posture is relaxed she can't help but feel anxious. Her feet want to go on without her, to run all the way there until she's spilling down the dunes and into the surf like something out of a movie, but the cadence she keeps is measured, hands balled into the pockets of her hoodie and her eyes steadily forward.
[OOC: Open to new threads through Friday.]
The ridiculousness of this fact doesn't escape her. By now it feels like another lifetime ago that Eric was supposed to introduce her to the shore, and there's really no good reason to hold onto the sentiment anymore unless her own innate sense of stubbornness could be counted. All this time, she's been waiting for a golden opportunity, for a reason to make it special, has built it up in her mind all the way from a billboard outside Portland to here. It's stupid and juvenile, but only now has that occurred to her.
So, she'll go. Alone, maybe, because it feels so odd to find Jason and ask for his company, not because he's incapable of understanding but because she's not sure she wants him to. There's never a good time to tell your boyfriend that you've been putting off looking at the ocean because some other guy in some other reality promised to take you there. None of this is really about Eric, but Lux doesn't trust herself to convey that clearly enough.
The sky is clear and dark blue, a mantle of stars twinkling above her as she sets out, sneakers hitting the boardwalk with purpose. The direction she chooses from the Compound is arbitrary, ocean at either end, and though her posture is relaxed she can't help but feel anxious. Her feet want to go on without her, to run all the way there until she's spilling down the dunes and into the surf like something out of a movie, but the cadence she keeps is measured, hands balled into the pockets of her hoodie and her eyes steadily forward.
[OOC: Open to new threads through Friday.]