(no subject)
His leg feels like a goddamned log, and it's driving Mace insane.
The physical therapy's going to take weeks, and while he'd reveled in being able to go anywhere he wanted without a cast on, he still has very little use of his leg. Half the time he forgets and puts his weight on it, feels the muscles give beneath him and only the crutches keep him upright.
There's very little to keep Mace's mind occupied, otherwise. He doesn't want to head to the beach until he's got his leg back and can experience it whole, which leaves him few options. Books and movies don't appeal, and he rarely finds himself initiating conversation.
Which leaves him the sun and, after Savannah mentioned it, the moon.
He's seen the moon from orbit as they shuttled past it on their way to the sun, but there's something different about seeing it from the ground. He's watched it grow over the past few nights, to the fullness he's gazing up at from the compound steps.
With his left leg lying straight out in front of him down the steps, crutches beside him and drink in hand, Mace spends a good hour watching the sky darken and the moon rise. Clouds whisk by from time to time, covering up the view, but the glow is always there behind them; that white, beautiful sunlight reflecting off the surface of the moon.
The physical therapy's going to take weeks, and while he'd reveled in being able to go anywhere he wanted without a cast on, he still has very little use of his leg. Half the time he forgets and puts his weight on it, feels the muscles give beneath him and only the crutches keep him upright.
There's very little to keep Mace's mind occupied, otherwise. He doesn't want to head to the beach until he's got his leg back and can experience it whole, which leaves him few options. Books and movies don't appeal, and he rarely finds himself initiating conversation.
Which leaves him the sun and, after Savannah mentioned it, the moon.
He's seen the moon from orbit as they shuttled past it on their way to the sun, but there's something different about seeing it from the ground. He's watched it grow over the past few nights, to the fullness he's gazing up at from the compound steps.
With his left leg lying straight out in front of him down the steps, crutches beside him and drink in hand, Mace spends a good hour watching the sky darken and the moon rise. Clouds whisk by from time to time, covering up the view, but the glow is always there behind them; that white, beautiful sunlight reflecting off the surface of the moon.