Agent Washington (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
beforeblue) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entrancelogs2017-01-24 02:51 am
beforeblue) wrote in entrancelogs2017-01-24 02:51 am
Entry tags:
[Open] Cracked Glass and Turpentine
Who: Agent Washington and [Open]!
Where: Around the mansion
When: During January
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The event hasn't helped with his memory problem any, but at least he has some kind of coping mechanism now to get him through his daily routine
The Story:
[Why was it always memories? God he hates this place. First a future of no memories, a future of losing himself like he remembers being engulfed by Epsilon's memories before. That's a terrifying thought. And then memories of another life shoved into his head, like that hasn't happened to him before.
But he's trying, he really is trying to follow Cami's advice. He carries a little notebook with him everywhere he goes, the columns marked down; His memories, Someone else's memories, unknown. The pages are full of scribbles and crossings out but it's better than nothing.
Routine helps. He thinks it helps, even if the days tend to blur into one another. He goes running around the mansion early, just as the sun is rising. It's refreshing, and he likes the feeling of running on real earth better than he liked it on the metal floor of the MoI. The beach is a frequent route, jogging along the line of the surf and pretending that it doesn't unnerve him, just a bit, to see endless water.
When he's showered and attempted to eat, albeit not always successfully, he traipses down to the range. Knowing how bad the events can be, he likes to stay sharp. Normally he'll start with the battle rifle and move on to his sidearm, but today he lays out his throwing knives. There's a trick he's been trying to master and he wants to try it out. Guns are easier. Knives are way cooler.
Normally he heads out to the training centre straight afterwards, and usually ends up there until well into the night, but today finds him heading to the bar with his notebook to work through the day's flashes of fragmented memory. It's tedious and frustrating but it helps. He's willing to take whatever he can get now.
Where: Around the mansion
When: During January
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The event hasn't helped with his memory problem any, but at least he has some kind of coping mechanism now to get him through his daily routine
The Story:
[Why was it always memories? God he hates this place. First a future of no memories, a future of losing himself like he remembers being engulfed by Epsilon's memories before. That's a terrifying thought. And then memories of another life shoved into his head, like that hasn't happened to him before.
But he's trying, he really is trying to follow Cami's advice. He carries a little notebook with him everywhere he goes, the columns marked down; His memories, Someone else's memories, unknown. The pages are full of scribbles and crossings out but it's better than nothing.
Routine helps. He thinks it helps, even if the days tend to blur into one another. He goes running around the mansion early, just as the sun is rising. It's refreshing, and he likes the feeling of running on real earth better than he liked it on the metal floor of the MoI. The beach is a frequent route, jogging along the line of the surf and pretending that it doesn't unnerve him, just a bit, to see endless water.
When he's showered and attempted to eat, albeit not always successfully, he traipses down to the range. Knowing how bad the events can be, he likes to stay sharp. Normally he'll start with the battle rifle and move on to his sidearm, but today he lays out his throwing knives. There's a trick he's been trying to master and he wants to try it out. Guns are easier. Knives are way cooler.
Normally he heads out to the training centre straight afterwards, and usually ends up there until well into the night, but today finds him heading to the bar with his notebook to work through the day's flashes of fragmented memory. It's tedious and frustrating but it helps. He's willing to take whatever he can get now.
the bar.
So, after at least a couple of days of exaggerated annoyance and keeping to herself, she's tried to go out and scout out for anyone who seems like they could provide interesting insight. ]
You're writing a lot. [ No manners, Malia. She's not at the bar to drink, but she has crept up behind a stranger and verbally pointed out the...task he has at hand. As if it's any of her business. She's not trying to read his notes, at least? ] Aren't bars for drinking, not writing?
Re: the bar.
He picks up the glass of whiskey and swirls it.]
I can do both.