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Damage Control [ Filtered + Open Action ]
Aug. 15th, 2013 08:35 pm[ Kirk, like a lot of other people in Luceti at the moment, was still reeling some from the emotions and memories of the Valley. More than anything, this had probably been the cruelest trick, regardless if it had been carried out by the Malnosso or anyone else. Kirk didn't tend to differentiate
between them. People had gone home, so why didn't they all?
But he didn't have much care for such thoughts, working on trying to get his body to accept that no, no one was going to be beside him on the bed when he woke up. No, there was no boy waiting in another room of the house, waiting for a good breakfast and to go to school. He was not a family man. He was not a dad. He was not a husband-to-be. He was not a simple mechanic who worked on bikes. He was none of those things...
And God, how that hurt.
Not that he hated what he was, but he had liked what he had been too. It just made his head ache and his mind reel all the more. It didn't help he had never been particularly good at examining his own emotions, and for the first time he wished he could be like Spock, and just shove it all aside...
Damn it, he needed to just be up and doing something. And he could already hear Spock and Pike's counsel in his head, so he reached for the journal, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to figure out what to say...]
( Filtered to Katniss )
[ That done, he shifted, wondering what to do next, but really he needed to work out the energy. His best therapy was physical movement, making his muscles ache and his chest burn because it focused him. Luceti wasn't much in offering up ways of mental stimulation, at least ones he was interested in.
So, he made another call... ]
( Filtered to Steve )
[ And now the waiting game.
Well, while he waited, he would get up and head out, making his way through the town, his hands in his pockets as he considered the town anew. It felt strange, walking through it, because he kept expecting to see picket fence homes and streets. He kept expecting to hear children laughing or the roar of an ancient car (well, ancient to him anyways, not in that era). His hands itched to be worked on a bike again, missing the Panhead despite himself. ]
Damn it, this place just keeps getting deeper under my skin...
between them. People had gone home, so why didn't they all?
But he didn't have much care for such thoughts, working on trying to get his body to accept that no, no one was going to be beside him on the bed when he woke up. No, there was no boy waiting in another room of the house, waiting for a good breakfast and to go to school. He was not a family man. He was not a dad. He was not a husband-to-be. He was not a simple mechanic who worked on bikes. He was none of those things...
And God, how that hurt.
Not that he hated what he was, but he had liked what he had been too. It just made his head ache and his mind reel all the more. It didn't help he had never been particularly good at examining his own emotions, and for the first time he wished he could be like Spock, and just shove it all aside...
Damn it, he needed to just be up and doing something. And he could already hear Spock and Pike's counsel in his head, so he reached for the journal, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to figure out what to say...]
( Filtered to Katniss )
[ That done, he shifted, wondering what to do next, but really he needed to work out the energy. His best therapy was physical movement, making his muscles ache and his chest burn because it focused him. Luceti wasn't much in offering up ways of mental stimulation, at least ones he was interested in.
So, he made another call... ]
( Filtered to Steve )
[ And now the waiting game.
Well, while he waited, he would get up and head out, making his way through the town, his hands in his pockets as he considered the town anew. It felt strange, walking through it, because he kept expecting to see picket fence homes and streets. He kept expecting to hear children laughing or the roar of an ancient car (well, ancient to him anyways, not in that era). His hands itched to be worked on a bike again, missing the Panhead despite himself. ]
Damn it, this place just keeps getting deeper under my skin...
