Post by LEONIDAS FAOLAN WINTER on Jul 21, 2014 23:19:40 GMT -5
don't get too close
IT'S DARK INSIDE, IT'S WHERE MY DEMONS HIDE
People always talk about ‘peace and quiet’, but to Leonidas the silence was deafening. It was as though all those tiny things you didn’t usually notice –air blowing through the vents, the slight creak of the building creaking while people scurried through it like ants, even his own heartbeat- were suddenly so loud in his ears. He’d never had a high tolerance for quiet. And when he thought about it, which he tried not to do too often, he suspected it was because of his father. He could remember, as vividly as though it had just happened, dancing around the kitchen, pogoing to Iggy Pop, Pennywise, and The Pogues, while his father made dinner.
He pulled the aged military green aviator jacket tighter around himself, admiring the patches dutifully sewn on so many years ago. In many places, the leather had been ripped and mended. Two generations of Winters had worn that jacket. Two generations of Winters had patched, mended, and patched again. Two generations of Winters fighting the good fight. And sometimes, fighting over the jacket. His father had tried to throw it out once. Tried to leave behind the past and all he’d ever been. Leon had dug through the trash, finding it at the bottom with some old egg and refuse from a meal spilled across it. It had taken many washes to get it clean, and many more before the smell of rot disappeared from it. Now, it just smelled slightly smoky.
Still, it was so comforting. Especially when the silence of the world set it, heavy and empty and trembling all at once. His iPod had died and he hadn’t had the opportunity to charge it before school. So it was in his tiny apartment, plugged into his music laptop, and would remain there until he could retrieve it after class. Until then, he would just have to wallow in the exhaustion that quiet created.
Leaning back in the seat, Leon’s wild blond hair flopped around his face. He stretched his legs over the seat in front of him. He was just getting comfortable, settled, his small writing laptop leaning against his knees, when he heard the theatre doors bang closed. Why would anyone build a theatre with doors that slammed like that? Shouldn’t they be padded or something? It had never made sense to him. Still, as long as his was left alone he would be fine. Writer’s block was driving him nuts.
ELLEN ELIZABETH WATSON: That sounds familiar. I used to be that way. I still am, but I've learned to let go a little.
Sept 18, 2013 22:33:39 GMT -5
EMMA GRACE DANVERS (GOODMAN): Alec is too good to me, how did I deserve him. I'm such a perfectionist that I am afraid to screw up
Sept 18, 2013 22:30:10 GMT -5
ELLEN ELIZABETH WATSON: Everyone screws up. I've screwed up so many times I can't even keep track, but you just have to pick yourself up and learn to forgive yourself which can be the hardest thing to do
Sept 18, 2013 22:28:38 GMT -5
EMMA GRACE DANVERS (GOODMAN): Thank you so much Ellen. I know Alec is there to encourage me, but sometimes I feel he's put me on this great mother pedestal. I'm afraid of screwing up.
Sept 18, 2013 22:25:29 GMT -5
ELLEN ELIZABETH WATSON: I wouldn't worry too much Emma. You're very maternal, something I never was, and I managed to do it alone. If you ever need to talk about parenting, I'm always here
Sept 18, 2013 22:10:52 GMT -5
EMMA GRACE DANVERS (GOODMAN): I'm just worried about being a good mother. Since my own mother is no longer here to advice me. I just want to do her proud *nervous look*
Sept 18, 2013 22:09:25 GMT -5
EMMA GRACE DANVERS (GOODMAN): well I think Alec will be worried when it comes to that age. He'll probably buy a shotgun and ward off any boy who comes a courting.
Sept 18, 2013 22:08:32 GMT -5
ELLEN ELIZABETH WATSON: -laughs- you don't have to worry about that for a while. I told Victoria when she was going into sixth grade, but I think it also depends on the child
Sept 18, 2013 22:07:23 GMT -5