Jun 21, 2011 17:48
gentlydone: elliot,
sea_grass: nerin roux,
smokingrockstar: maude dante,
fuckinjunctions: ollie wilkinson ( au. ),
inonebody: fenrad,
leftafield: jeremiah southey,
ituncleared: lewis puckett,
creepinginmy: jack gibson & cerbos,
itdisappeared: giles puckett,
#necklaces,
theimpulsefor: romy howell,
immortalizes: sven,
deontological: ethan,
goshdarnstars: riagán,
breathesdust: magalie st. james,
theytouched: thomas aldridge,
- members,
*action,
typeright: julia "jules" grumley,
bookofworlds: payton,
concevait: césar,
staunchest: emily kingston,
eventhegood: teagan,
duplicar: salem,
howaverage: emilia gorski
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Someone took them.
Someone wants him to go through this as punishment when he did nothing wrong.
Deep breaths.
It's getting harder to remember how to do that.]
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Feebly, like he doesn't really want to do it: ]
Hello? Is someone there?
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Giles? [he moves, only slightly in the direction of the nearest doorway. He doesn't quite show hope about finding someone familiar; he just doesn't want to be alone in the dark.] Giles, is that you?
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It's me, Lewis. It's me. [ He turns completely, stepping away from the door. ] Where are you?
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Lewis doesn't want to sound anxious or vulnerable, much less in front of Giles, so he gulps and develops some restraint in his tone. It's still very clear that he is nowhere near comfortable.]
I'm--[his voice breaks and he gulps again.] I'm here. Can you hear me?
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[ He doesn't want to sound patronising, trying to speak firmly and reassuringly. He doesn't like being alone in the dark either, and there is a sort of warm relief flooding in his chest that at least it is someone familiar here with him. The relief is followed by a stab of guilt - why didn't you feel this way when you were younger, it asks. Swallowing, he takes a few tentative steps in the direction he thinks Lewis' voice is coming from. ]
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I'm alone. I'm scared. I don't have my medication with me. Someone took it away from me. Was it you? Are you alone? Why am I here?
But he's too damn apprehensive about this situation and his brother to go ahead and spill all that information. The less he knows, the less he has to worry about. The less reasons he can have to judge or be afraid of him. The less reasons he has to believe Lewis quietly suspects of many things.]
I'm here.
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[ He slips carefully through a doorway, stepping over a large plank of fallen, rotten wood, looking from side to side - and that is when he sees a shape in the darkness. Unsure in the low light, in the unusual location, he hangs back a little, and speaks at length. ]
Lewis, is that you?
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Y-yes.
[Lewis crosses and rubs his arms softly but nervously. Should he approach Giles or wait for him to walk over first? He wants to utter a meek and awkward 'it's nice to see you' (or something along those lines). Something else trumps his uncomfortable and disappearing desire to be welcoming.]
What's going on?
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I... don't actually know. I just found myself in here, inexplicably. [ Quietly: ] Are you alright?
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No, yeah, I'm okay. I just--[He nods absently, almost like he's trying to reassure himself as much as he's trying to reassure his brother.
There's nothing to worry about. I don't want you to look at me like there is.]
... It's good to see you.
[And he pauses to exhale nervously, allowing himself to smile against his anxiety.]
This is really fucked up.
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It's good to see you too. [ Giles' tone is genuine. It's been a while. He allows himself a short, soft laugh, nodding a little in agreement. ] Yeah, it definitely is. If I was going to spontaneously turn up somewhere, this wouldn't be the top of my list exactly...
[ He trails off, unsure of whether to continue his stupid, idle chatter on. It feels useless, almost false, even if what Giles is saying is perfectly true of his feelings. ]
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There were many reasons why he was avoided by Giles and why he ended up doing the same to him; very few are a mystery to either of them. He makes the biggest effort not to think about his darkest moment against his brother because it never does him any good. It's easier to pretend everything is alright -- with him and between them. It's better this way.]
We should... [he shuts his mouth momentarily, running his hand through his hair, almost like Giles does. There's something quicker about the way he does it, impatient.] We should get out of here.
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He'll be damned if he knew how to express this, though. He's not even sure if it'd be a good idea. ]
Good plan. [ Giles unconsciously raises a hand, pressing his hand thoughtfully to his mouth in a customary gesture. ] Do you have any idea how you got in here?
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[his voice trembles and he averts his gaze as he thinks about it. Numerous theories build up in his mind, none of them plausible enough to keep him concentrated on them. For now. He should tell (warn) his brother that he doesn't have his medication -- who knows how long he's been without it or how much longer he will have to be -- but he's trying to convince himself that he can hold it together long enough to save him the trouble of knowing that.
He brings a hand up and scratches the back of his head, looking down, almost like what should be a much younger version of himself.]
I just woke up in the other room. Alone.
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