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somewhere between the sacred silence and sleep [.open.]
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Post by Tempest on Aug 22, 2014 6:49:22 GMT -5
Jeremy colored, now worried that he'd somehow said something to imply feelings he wasn't sure he was capable of feeling at this point. Maybe not ever. He didn't say anything, though. Maybe... maybe it was a joke? He hoped it was because he had NO IDEA what to do otherwise. He swallowed hard, lapsing into silence.
Talking about where she came from was a welcome change of pace and he wasn't afraid to show some interest in this part. He'd only been out of the country twice, and both of those trips had been utter fiascoes. "Do they not have a school like this closer to home?" Then he realized what he was saying and shook his head. "Nevermind. That was a dumb question. It's not like Foresta is easily accessible to anybody."
He looked haunted for a moment, thinking about where he was from. Life had been so different back there. "Elsmere, Nebraska. If you want country... well, I'd suggest other places first, but it wasn't a bad place to live." He shrugged, his expression vague and perhaps hard to read. They couldn't go back now, so it didn't make sense to dwell.
"Do you miss London?" It was the next logical question, he felt. He knew very little about London except that it was the setting of half a dozen different books and movies. And wasn't there a The Clash song about it? It had been a long time since he'd even thought about music, or other similarly mundane things. If this didn't turn out to be a horrible, extended nightmare sequence designed only to raise his hopes up before the next inevitable crash, then he would look forward to returning to some of the things he'd missed.
He picked up the cup of water from the bedside table. They'd tried to give him a glass earlier, but his malnutrition had caught up with him and he had managed to drop it on the floor. Embarrassing situation, that. Jeremy didn't want his parents to worry, but that had only made his mom delve a little deeper into the chaos that was his mind.
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Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo |
Siren
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Post by ebonynightmare on Aug 27, 2014 14:32:49 GMT -5
Jeremy asked if there wasn't anywhere like Foresta closer to home. Just as she opened her mouth to answer, a little baffled, the boy shook his head, seeming to realize what he'd asked. With her mouth half open, Lisette said the first thing that came to mind so that she wouldn't look like a total idiot. Luckily, considering the topic of their conversation, there was a simple answer--to ask where he was from.
It took her a moment to remember that Nebraska was one of the states in America. As for the city... well, she'd never heard of it. but considering the size of America, she thought that was forgivable. She didn't really have anything to comment about it, since she knew nothing about his hometown, and he'd already said it was a nice place to live.
He asked if she missed London. "Well, of course I miss it," she said. "It's my home, and so familiar to me. Although I suppose Foresta is unfamiliar to everyone when they first arrive." Unless there were students that had been born in Port Albion, she supposed. "Don't you miss your home?" she asked in return. It was hard for her to imagine that anyone would not miss their home. She loved to travel, but it was also nice to be at home, with familiar people and the comfort of her own room.
"Oh, I suppose if I call you Jem, you can call me Lacey," the girl added, grinning slightly. That was another thing she missed--having people around to call her by her nickname, usually reserved only for people who were close to her--friends and family. She hadn't talked to her parents for a while, since they were both currently very busy with their jobs. Connor, of course, didn't want to talk to her. Her mates had texted her a few times, but they were busy with holiday and summer assignments. She decided she would try and contact them more often--getting disconnected from the people who had been close to her had been the one thing she promised she would not do after coming to Foresta.
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Post by Tempest on Sept 13, 2014 17:55:20 GMT -5
The sip of water he'd started taking when she explained what she felt on the matter of missing home and the familiarity of Foresta. He'd certainly felt out of place himself for the couple of weeks he'd been there before being taken. Agathon was a strange new friend he had not seen yet, and he wondered if the other boy was still around and whether he'd started acting in ways that made a little more sense.
Foresta had been so jarring because of the dreams. Dreams were, by their very nature, rarely mundane, but the level of hurt that he'd encountered in the dreams of those around him here at the school often took darker turns than those of the residents of Elsmere.
His sip turned into several gulps as he tried to figure out how to word something he was having a hard time coming to terms with. The glass empty, he replaced it on the side table and said softly, "It's not home anymore. Locals burned our house down. The anti-gifted stuff finally hit them and my parents... well, it was not a secret that they aren't normal folk. My parents are staying in Port Albion for now. They'd pretty much established themselves here when I... uh... disappeared. They weren't home when the incident happened." He rubbed the back of his head, suddenly aware that his words might be causing some awkwardness in the room.
"Guess Foresta's my home now." He forced a smile up, a smile he didn't feel. Dreams couldn't be a refuge here, and with the place where he'd been taken so close... well, he didn't feel comfortable. Not in his own skin, not in the school that had taken him in, not even with the idea of remaining on the island.
"So... errrrr... Lacey.... what do you do for fun?" Abrupt subject change. Good plan for dealing with the oppressive awkward.
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Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo |
Siren
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Post by ebonynightmare on Oct 3, 2014 20:18:16 GMT -5
She listened quietly as Jeremy told her of how those in his community who were against Gifteds had burned down his house. She felt an overwhelming wave of sympathy for him--first, he had lost his home to prejudiced people acting out of fear and hatred, and then he had come here, to Foresta, where the students were promised safety and acceptance. But obviously, from their current location, that hadn't happened. Lisette made a mental note to ask about that. Since apparently his powers dream-related, she wondered if they had been the cause of his injuries. But dreams couldn't cause physical changes, could it?
"Well, that's good, isn't it? That they weren't home?" she asked. One of her nightmares was of her home burning up, along with everything inside it. Just the thought of it made her shudder. Fire was terrifying when it was uncontrolled, and she was thankful to whatever higher power or gene that had given her a power that had nothing to do with fire.
Jeremy forced a smile as he said that Foresta was his home now. Lisette tilted her head slightly, questioningly. "Is it really? I don't consider Foresta my home--my school, yes, but no more than that. I don't think I ever could. My home is, and always will be, in London," she said. If she thought of this school as her home, what connection did she have to her family? The biggest thing that still tied them together, aside from blood, was their shared home and hearth. Home is where the heart is. And her heart was indeed in London--with her friends, with her parents, and yes, with her brother, despite all that had happened between them.
He posed a question then, asking about her hobbies. She arched an eyebrow. "Sudden change of topic much?" She had to consider how to answer, though--there were so many activities she enjoyed it was hard to remember them all. "Er.." she hesitated. "It's going to be quite a long list," Lisette warned, with the hint of a smile. "Are you sure you want to hear it?"
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Post by Tempest on Oct 12, 2014 16:40:25 GMT -5
Jeremy shrugged. It was a lot of information he had to get used to, all at once. He'd lost so much time. "Yeah. I guess. We were pretty lucky..." His tone was pretty blank as he acknowledged her statement, revealing the weird hollowness in himself that he'd so recently devoted to pure, blind survival instinct. He closed his eyes, trying to remember his old home and coming up with only a vague perception of once being content. Another shrug and he moved on to the next answer Lisette gave him.
He listened to her, his expression carefully blank. "I guess it is different if you still have a residence there." He hadn't been in Foresta very long before he'd been taken. At any rate, he wasn't feeling a particular sense of attachment to anything, having been in and out of the waking world so much that it all blended together. At any moment, the phantoms from his past could reemerge and kill Lisette. Or finally himself.
He managed a faint blush at her comment about his change of subject. He nodded firmly at the question. "I do. Unless... you have other things to do? It's been too long since I've had to track time, or have even wanted to." Time was negligible in the labyrinth and in the dreaming. To try to keep track of the hours, or the days would have been a monumental task even if he had not been running for his life. The realization that she might have better things to do was a crushing one. After all, her life hadn't been put on hold for the whims of a madwoman.
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Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo |
Siren
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Post by ebonynightmare on Nov 29, 2014 2:53:05 GMT -5
Although Jeremy agreed with her that they'd been pretty lucky they hadn't been home, he seemed to be doubtful. Or at least, he agreed with a machine-like quality that puzzled her. Did he not agree? Was he just concurring to avoid conflict? Had he stopped listening completely? Lisette would have thought he would be genuinely happy about a stroke of luck like that. It didn't occur to her that it might not have been any of those. She never would have imagined that it would be a result of something akin to post-traumatic stress disorder, although it was a perfectly reasonable explanation.
His expression seemed nonchalant, empty, as she continued talking, and she wondered if she was boring him. But he then asked about her interests, which she didn't think would be characteristic of a bored individual. She replied first with a comment on his sudden change of topic, and at that, his cheeks coloured. It was surprising how much better a flush of colour made him look; he looked so... dead and lifeless without the redness in his cheeks.
She shrugged at his thought that she might have something else to do. "What other commitments could I possibly have? Sorry, I didn't mean that offensively. But I hardly know anyone here, and the few people I have met I hardly want to spend time with. So no, I don't have anything else to do." Honestly, there wasn't anything she'd really rather be doing, either. Despite being an independent person, it got pretty boring sometimes by herself, and it was too cold to do anything outside without dressing like an Eskimo, which just made it inconvenient to actually do anything active.
"Well.. let's see," she began, trying to remember everything at once. "I like horseback riding. We used to have horses. Hmm... anything art-related, really. Photography, drawing, dancing, ice skating, singing... Reading and writing stories are quite fun as well. Stargazing takes a lot of patience and willingness to wake up late at night, but it's often rewarding. I play piano, too, but it's not always enjoyable." She was pretty sure that was everything.
"What about you? What kind of things do you find entertaining?" Lisette almost added 'before whatever happened', but it seemed unreasonable to assume the event had changed his interests, although it was possible. On that note, she also wanted to ask about what'd happened, but decided to hold off on it for a while. He didn't seem like he really wanted to talk about it, but she wasn't going to be able to keep her curiosity under control forever. Just for a bit.
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Post by Tempest on Nov 30, 2014 21:08:20 GMT -5
What would have been offensive about not having anything better to do? He tried to fathom it, but failed. The depth of that line of thinking only threatened to rouse a new headache, so he stopped with an internal shrug. The chill emanating from the panes of a nearby window caused him to draw the blanket closer. It was so weird, feeling the difference between warm and cold again, when for so long it had only been skin-numbing chill.
"You weren't lying. That was a long list," he commented after a moment, trying to sound humorous and falling just short, winding up in awkward territory instead. As though to make up for it, he tried to forge ahead. "You were having a pretty mundane dream for somebody who is so creative. I bet that doesn't happen often."
Her return question made him stop. After a pregnant silence that threatened to stretch out for minutes, he finally answered, "I... I used to enjoy sports. Rugby? Rugby." He needed to reaffirm it, as though all that had been a dream too. Where did dreams end and reality begin? Some of the stuff she'd mentioned from her list were things that seemed vaguely familiar, but had he really done them? Or were they artifacts of an alternate reality?
"If what I remember is correct, this school has a lot to offer somebody like you." Hadn't his parents oohed and ahhed over the amenities the school had to offer? Too bad so many people were so damaged. He colored again. "I mean somebody with so many interests."
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Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo |
Siren
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Post by ebonynightmare on Dec 13, 2014 3:17:59 GMT -5
The corners of her mouth twitched a little when he said that she'd been correct in saying that the list of her interests was a long one. She liked to think she was right most--if not all--of the time. Who didn't? But it was always nice to hear someone concur. The smallest things could make her happy sometimes. He added that her dream had been pretty mundane 'for somebody so creative', and asked if that was normal. She let out a breathy laugh. "It's a bit of an understatement to say that it's abnormal. But I wouldn't say seeing someone cut in half with a sword constitutes a normal dream," Lisette answered, shuddering at the horrifying image that had resurfaced in her mind, accidentally imagining it happening to her. Her imagination ran away more often than not, creating a hypothetical situation where the worst of things happened to her instead of other people, especially with injuries. That was probably the number one reason she would never even consider being in any sort of medical profession, whether it was as a nurse, surgeon, or any other doctor.
In response to her question about his interests, he hesitatingly answered that he'd liked rugby. It was as if he couldn't remember who he'd been, having to question the validity of his answer. "Ah.. rugby. I've never really been a fan of contact sports, myself," Lisette commented. "Or actually any sport involving a ball, really." Well, there were a few, but the majority of ball sports she found boring. It wasn't because she thought they were more or less dangerous than any of her sports, but they involved too much teamwork, for one thing. She just hated depending on others to get the work done in general.
Jeremy said that the school should be a great place for her, considering her interests. Her lips flattened into a thin line as she thought about that. "I could have done all the things I wanted at home. Granted, there was quite a bit of light pollution, but... I didn't need to come to Foresta. My brother and Luke probably both wanted me gone, though, and my parents just wanted me somewhere where I could learn to control my powers." Her voice was almost bitter as she spoke. She had nothing against Foresta, but to be honest, she would have given up all her powers just to go home and be normal again.
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Post by Tempest on Jan 10, 2015 21:21:32 GMT -5
Jeremy didn't feel like adding to their conversation about dreams any more. Given his general lack of familiarity with her dreamscapes, he couldn't weigh in on how normal any dream might be. Violence didn't necessarily dictate abnormal, but perhaps he only thought that way because he was having difficulty remembering a time before all of the nightmares.
He had lapsed into a blank sort of silence, listening politely as she weighed in on contact sports. He wasn't much for judging a person based on whether they shared the same interests as him. In a previous life, he might have extolled the virtues of teamwork and camaraderie, but that sort of thing felt far away and, to be honest, rather exhausting.
Vaguely, he wondered what non-gifted sleep felt like. From what he remembered about what he might have once read, it was the sort of thing that might erase some of the bone-deep weariness he currently carried.
He immediately went wary at her expression, concerned he'd overstepped some kind of boundary. Turned out, she had no reason to be here. At least none that stemmed internally. He rubbed a hand over his face and replied after a protracted pause, "I can't imagine why they'd want you gone, but my parents told me the same thing when they sent me here. Power was beginning to get... disruptive and unmanageable." He changed the subject abruptly, asking, "Who's Luke?"
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