hadriel_logs | Event Log: Regret This

Entry tags:

Event Log: Regret This

Who: Everyone!
What: The Regret This event
Where: Throughout the city
When: June 25th-July 3rd
Warnings: Sorrow is resurrected, and everyone is immediately full of regrets

Hope has finally managed another god resurrection, and the people have spoken! On June 25th, he musters his powers and brings Sorrow back to Hadriel. An orchard appears across the river, in the until now ruined part of the city, and Sorrow's temple is also restored. Hooray! One more god to make things a little more livable in this place.

Of course, it's not that easy. It never is. Along with Sorrow himself comes a wave of regret and guilt that blankets the city. All those affected will be inclined to not only be sad, but to linger over past regrets and things they feel guilty about. They can distract themselves with everyday tasks or whatever else they please, but they'll find that their thoughts drift back to these regrets regardless of what they do.

And of course, the best way to purge a guilty conscience is confession, right? On top of these persistent sad thoughts, people will feel the urge to tell others about them, to air their past mistakes or misdeeds and possibly receive some kind of forgiveness. So what if your neighbor doesn't care that you cheated on your final exams all through school? You have to tell someone, and they're right there. If it doesn't make you feel better, that probably means you haven't confessed to enough people yet, or maybe you just haven't found the right person. Better try again!

On July 3rd, Sorrow has settled in and this urge to confess your sins will die down, along with the constant regret. Let's hope you didn't confess anything too personal. Remember, you're gonna have to see some of these people every day.

► This log covers June 25th-July 3rd.
► Feel free to make your own logs as well!
► Please tag headers of threads with content warnings where they apply
► Please put your character's name and open/closed in the subject line of your starters!
► If you somehow manage to end up regretfully dead, please remember to hit up our death post!

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

[Regret is nothing new. There's just no point to it, really. It's an extraneous emotion that he can't really afford to give the time of day. Subject modifier of his consciousness. Sadness...takes work. Crying takes work. The magic's gotta work double-time to form a substitute for tear ducts and that's twice as exhausting. So, sorry Sorrow, no dice. He's literally too lazy to cry.

So instead, Sans sleeps. Moreso than usual. Sleeping is a very ideal pastime, he thinks. It's good, it's restful, it doesn't hurt anyone, and it means you get to spend less time awake. Win-win all around. The thing is, he ends up sleeping kind of...everywhere as a result of all that guilt and regret storming around in his skull.

He tries to nip up to one of the rooftops, makes it as far as the front door, and then experiences a sudden moment of crushing apathy and can't continue. He plonks himself down in front of the door and shuts his eyesockets, only for a second, and before he knows it he's fast asleep.

He heads into the kitchen to scrounge up something to eat, and somehow ends up collapsed on the table his his skull in his arms.

He looks through one of the shops for some ideal monster chow. The next minute, he's sprawled under one of the shelves like the world's boniest cat.

He tries to shortcut back home and finds himself in someone else's house in one of the spires instead. His only solution is to roll his eyesockets and hunker down for a quick doze, because life is pointless and time's a flat circle, so what's the point?

As the event progresses, expect to find Sans in increasingly unlikely places, either fast asleep or somewhere approaching it, struggling to maintain some sense of composure by refusing to maintain wakefulness. Can't feel regrets if you're asleep. Nothing to worry about but dreams and wisps of memories that...heh, that never happened.

Decides to take a walk by the lake? Instead he sleeps on one of the banks.

Decides that he needs to do some laundry? He starts snoring in the basket of his own dirty clothes instead.

Decides to stop by the bar for something to drink? Nope, sorry, he's gonna fall asleep on the stool.

Decides to poke around in the library? Yeah, except Sans finds an empty shelf near the top and decides that's as good a place as any to park his coccyx.

Expect to find him anywhere and everywhere, and do give the lazy skeleton a good kick while you're at it.]

I. Anywhere (Wildcard)

With the resurrection of the new god, nothing seems to be much different. Not for Rey, anyway. When you're someone who already tends to live in regret, a little more remorse than usual doesn't seem so unusual. Not just in light of her past, but recent events have led to a number of deplorable cycle of events.

Insomnia has taken hold, making Rey more restless than usual. Already she tends not to get much more than a few hours of actual sleep, but lately she's been going on days. Either wandering the city or finding work to do at the Guard Headquarters. While she can keep herself functional on minimal sleep, it takes a few days for it to take a visible toll on her disposition. Between the way she carries herself, the dark weary lines under her eyes, and her lack of expression... Well, more lacking, even in the presence of those she's learned to find contentment in.

Sometimes she can be found by the river, either loitering or near the dam to ensure that no damage comes from it. There have been plenty of destructive forces in the city for her to worry that hers and the efforts of others could possibly be wasted in an instant.

And that's just it. The niggling feeling that plagues her the most. The fact that everything she had worked to achieve could be gone one day, just like everything else she had made for herself in the many lives she had lived.

Unsurprisingly, one is most likely to run into her at Delight's bar, ironically drowning her melancholy away at the bottom of a bottle.

II. Orchards

They really are beautiful, aren't they? The trees, the colors, the light. The sweet scent of fruit lingering in the air. This is what she'd asked for, wasn't it?

Lately, she can't help but think of her days spent trapped within the glass walls of her confinement, where her original vessel had once been interned in the underground city where she had been born. How fitting it is that she trade one underground prison for another. How appropriate for something like her.

You have only yourself to blame, she reminds herself, as she settles under a tree bearing alien fruit. She's picked a piece for herself, but neither the smell nor the taste seems to offer much relief from the deadened weight anchoring in her chest. It's odd, how she had spent several decades without a sense of taste, that she had learned to love the flavor once she had been allowed to enjoy the food she eats.

Now, she's returned to that same miserable place where simple bodily upkeep is nothing more than a chore. Sleep, food, drink, even keeping herself busy is just too much work.

"It's not you," is the only logical conclusion that she finally comes to, as she slowly chews and swallows the fruit she's eaten. "This isn't you."

Honestly, what were they expecting? They opted for a god named Sorrow.

So, really, the fault is all theirs. What other choice did they have, though?

Near typically does not go outside much, and does not want to. But the house is almost out of food and Mello, who would normally be the one to take care of this kind of thing, is in hiding for the foreseeable future. So it falls to Near to look after himself for a change. It's very inconvenient.

So he is out and about periodically, but only to specific locations for specific purposes. His hair is disheveled and he's wearing a very oversized jacket, collar high enough to cover the bottom half of his face -- something he'd picked up even before the fog had first descended upon the city. Even with that, it's clear from the covering on his legs that he is still in his pajamas. From the vaguely saddened look in his eyes, perhaps he'd just been too depressed to even think of basic daily care.

While at the shops, he roots around as if looking for something very specific. Is there no chocolate around here? He's been feeling a heavy weight in his stomach since the morning, tinges of sadness and regret that he usually does not feel. He's seen network backlog, knows this must mean that Sorrow has been resurrected. That he's been affected by it is bothersome, but not unexpected. So he feels the sadness, and as any time when he feels this emotion, he starts craving chocolate. If only he could find any.

At the orchards, he carefully examines the trees, plucks lower-hanging fruit from them. Lower-hanging, because at all of five feet tall, he can't reach much. He eyes the fruit carefully, debating. Should he check to see if it's poisonous? That might be unnecessary. Perhaps if he does that, he should wait until he is back at the house. Why use his magic openly if unnecessary? Yes, that settles it. Any more pieces of fruit he grabs will be tucked into that satchel he seems to carry with him wherever he goes. He can test all of this when he gets home.

Sharon da Silva is no stranger to sorrow, or intense feelings of guilt, and regret. It used to be easier to handle, back home when she lived and breathed for her dad. It didn't matter how terrible she felt about something because those feelings were dwarfed by her adoration for her father; if he was happy, and he was safe, then it was all that really mattered.

Here, she does not have that same luxury. He's not here, but even if he were, she doubts he'd look at her with same sort of love and affection he once held for her once he learns the things she's done. People died. Sure, she died, but she'd gotten what she'd deserved. She wishes Hope never brought her back.

It's hard for her not to wind up in newly created orchard, not when she's keeping as far from the main parts of the city as she can. A part of her feels she should be lucky to be in such a place, that it's pretty, but then she remembers all of what it means: it's just another thing to placate them. If she'd succeeded, they wouldn't need to be placated any longer because the gods would have no longer mattered.

But she failed, and she hates herself for her failure.

When she spots Rey, Sharon almost turns around to leave. It's tempting to run, to turn tail and flee, but sorrow pulls at her, and the temptation to spill her guilt leaden secrets outweighs it. She approaches carefully, hesitantly: to say she's uncertain of allies would be an understatement.

"...Is it any good?", she can't bring herself to try any of the fruits herself. There are three holes in the chest of her white vest, the area around them stained a deep, dark brown. She won't take it off, as now it's as much a visible symbol of her guilt and failure as it is a symbol of love from her father.

It's been a while since Nick has been home for long. Between dealing with the aftermath of the fog and trying to help the Guard with the tough decisions ahead, he's had a lot on his plate. Someone was murdered after all -- a damn kid, hardly even an adult by legal standards. While the intentions of the shooter might have been to stop the fog, chances were just as good that putting a bullet in her would have made things worse.

Hell, things got worse anyway. Maketh and Henry had been killed. It could have been Rey. It could have been him.

So when he spots Rey while walking the streets, he calls to her, hoping to touch base. They may live together, but sometimes, it's hard to talk, to say what really needs to be said. They have to leave their sentiments behind to get the job done, even if it means leaving important topics behind for the moment -- topics of dreams, nightmares, things that shouldn't have been shared, but were regardless. It's slowed down in the city, with the madness seemingly behind them, but who knows for how long.

"Hey. Feels like I haven't seen you around in a while."

It doesn't take a detective to see those bags still under her eyes, to note the way she carries herself. She's still weary -- they all are -- and he can't help but feel guilty he hadn't seen it sooner, hadn't taken the time to speak to her. She's his roommate, his partner, his friend. Nick knows she won't make the suggestion on her own, so he does it for her:

"All's quiet out here. Let's head home. Rest up."

If anyone is going to judge Sharon on her actions, it's not going to be Rey. Certainly not the one who has lost count on how many lives she had sabotaged and snuffed out. And that was back in a world where people aren't magically resurrected by some apathetic god who needs them alive. Sometimes, she had even enjoyed the destruction she had caused. It's just the sort of person she was.

But not now. Not anymore. That's always been without the ever-present guilt that's shadowed her over the last few days. As such, Rey hasn't even begun to notice the difference, just that she's been more somber about it. You'd have to be stupid not to know why, all things considered.

She notices Sharon's presence before she even makes herself known with her voice. Rey doesn't turn her head, and instead focuses on the empty space in front of her. The many rows of trees and shades of green and fruit. She's mostly done with it by the time Sharon decides to reveal herself.

"It's all right." Rey shrugs, swallowing. Her eyes cast down to the pit of the fruit itself. "Better than the shit in the stores, suppose."

Fresh fruit is always superior to cans.

A few seconds of delay would almost make one wonder if Rey heard Nick at all. It just takes her a moment to realize that she's the one being talked to, despite the fact that there is no one else around.

Strange, that. It's such a large city, and yet not anywhere near enough people to populate it. If you didn't count the monsters as denizens, of course, if they didn't occupy the caves more often than not.

As those seconds pass, Rey slows down to a halt. Recognizing Nick's voice, she cants her head towards him, but doesn't turn to face him completely. There is no sense in hiding the obvious fatigue she wears on her face. Especially not to someone as well-trained as Nick -- or the cop whose memories he possesses.

"Sorry," comes the initial response. She means it, too. Even though neither of them have been particularly good about staying at home for very long, it isn't like she's made the situation any easier. While she doesn't know what Nick had gone through that had him so spooked when all Hell had broken loose (in the most literal sense), she hasn't been able to bring herself to ask him about it.

Yet, for some reason, she can't help but feel culpable for it.

Her gaze shifts away from Nick this time. "That's fine. Not very tired."

Which isn't entirely a lie. She's plenty tired, yes. The problem is that she can't sleep.

She says she's not tired, but everything about her reaction and her bearing says otherwise. Nick gives her a concerned look, watching as her eyes pull away from him. His own brow knits, feelings that aren't his own creeping into his mind -- this is his fault for not keeping a better eye on her during all this.

"Come on, Rey," he insists. "The streets will be fine without us for an hour or so. You might not be tired, but you still look like you should take a load off. We could both use it."

His leg certainly could. It's doing fine for the moment, but he knows well enough it'll act up anytime, the entire limb losing responsiveness and sensation. Now would be a good time for him to look at the wires, given the relative peace of the city, but Rey comes first. In his mind, she always will.

Much like her roommate, Rey is also conditioned to notice the little things. The way Nick's strides have changed, for example, have not gone beyond her sense of perception. It became especially clear to her when she had watched him amble away from their house, that day when he seemed to want to leave in a hurry and not look back. She hadn't brought it up out of respect for her friend, but it's increasingly more difficult to disregard.

When she nods, she's conceding not for herself, but for his sake. Rey is aware just how much Nick had worked himself that week, enough that he probably ran his old body ragged. While she's never outwardly stated it, she has charged herself with the responsibility of making sure the old synth doesn't fall to pieces one day.

No matter the cost.

"Fine." She starts heading towards their home, lagging her pace so not to go too fast for Nick without being too blatant about it.

Nick smiles, both for her assurance and his relief. He knows how stubborn she can be.

He keeps his own pace slow as well, matching Rey's, assuming she's as exhausted as nearly everyone else on the Guard. He doesn't think for a moment she's doing it for his sake, though he has a feeling she has probably noticed his uneven gait by now. He does his best to keep it steady, hoping to allay any concerns she might have. She's sure to have plenty on her mind, given the past week or so's events.

"How are you holding up?" he asks finally. "I know it's been a hell of a week for all of us on the Guard."

They've not too far a walk ahead of them, though at this rate it'll take them a little longer to get home. Which means more time for them to talk.

Rey doesn't want to talk. Or, she does, but a part of her knows that it isn't really her that does. And that's something that she has been trying all too hard to escape, to put behind her. Like Delight's extended celebration, these things don't seem to last forever. She just has to ride it out, like she always does.

"It was hell for everyone. Survived it, though."

Which is more than what she can say for some others.

"Yeah. Most of us."

Even without the added guilt from the gods, Nick is feeling the weight on his heart. Maybe if he'd gotten to the apartment sooner, the girl wouldn't have died. If he'd stuck with Maketh and Henry instead, perhaps they wouldn't have fallen. What if he makes the same mistake with Rey?

His natural inclination toward his duty fights back against those thoughts. He couldn't have known what would happen, and he did what he could. Rey can take care of herself. He's letting his personal qualms get in the way again.

"Now we've got to pick up the pieces. Figure out what to do next, now that there's a new god in town."

[The first thing Bigby does on the morning of Sadness's return is to spend a solid half hour of it violently emptying his guts into the nearest sink. It feels like his body is trying to throw up the thick knot of anxiety and regret that's settled just beneath his stomach, heavy as the boulders he still remembers the Woodsman sewing into him.

That memory had always existed in the back of his mind, a painful reminder that he can still lose, but now it's come back with a vengeance, along with a lot of other memories of his life before Fabletown - life as the Big Bag Wolf, of slaughtering and eating countless people, Fables and mundies and animals alike, with no care but to get bigger and stronger. Only now he feels like they're fighting back, the weight of what he did hanging heavily on his shoulders and twisting his insides into knots.

When he tries to eat a short while later, he vomits before he can even swallow. He's quick to discover, however, that alcohol does stay down. And what is alcohol poisoning? Something that sure as hell doesn't happen with this metabolism. But then, neither does getting actually drunk.

This sets the tone for the rest of the month: as long as that guilt and anxiety lingers, Bigby won't be able to stomach any food, despite frequent attempts, that become much fewer and further between as his guilt weighs ever more heavily on him on the later days. But he'll keep a bottle of whatever obscenely strong paint stripper he can find on him, between his increasingly frequent trips to Delight's bar.

He looks, frankly, like a mess. But hey, at least he hasn't been shirking his guard duties in the interim. That's good, right?]

Edited (Titles are important) 2016-06-26 06:26 (UTC)

Some things are just beyond your control, and Nick is only one person. It's easy enough for Rey to think of things that way when it's someone else -- someone that she cares about. Not so much when it comes to her own shortcomings.

At least she got to do some good when shit had hit the fan. Made sure that a few people didn't die when they very well could have. That should count for something, but it unsurprisingly doesn't make her feel any better about it.

Rey still doesn't look at Nick while she walks, keeping her head low as though the weight of her skull is too much to keep upright. Her body may be exhausted, but her mind keeps her going.

"Can't say I expected anything happy coming from someone called 'Sorrow'. Still, better him than the other two."

In Rey's most humble opinion, that is.

Especially Love, though. Fuck Love, and fuck love.

[Are you out and about today? Feeling waves of sorrow wafting over you, dragging your mood down with it? If you happen to pass by the lake, you'll find a solitary young man there with a pleasant smile on his face as he skips rocks on the surface, sitting near the shore. There's a small pule of stones on the ground next to him.

When you approach, he looks up with a widening smile. Maybe you're overwhelmed with the need to spill your guts to someone, anyone, about your regrets - and this guy couldn't look less intimidating or judgmental. Whatever's going on doesn't seem to be affecting him at all.

That idea might tinge his smile in a strange light, though.

Elmer offers over a rock, perfect for skipping.]

Hi there. Care to join? There's plenty more where that came from.

Nick nods, his eyes ahead of him.

"Even Tranquility, the last one, is going to come with a cost. They all do. We'll just have to make sure we can survive whatever they throw at us. Them, and people who are as trapped here as the rest of us."

He sighs. The fog, the monsters within, and the monsters within people who should be their allies -- it's all hitting Nick pretty hard, harder than most of what the city has put them through.

Edited 2016-06-26 00:35 (UTC)

True, there are a few others that haven't even been put to vote yet. She hadn't considered Tranquility. Though it has nothing to do with the gods, the name alone invites a knee-jerk response, considering what she's learned about this alternate universe and that other Rey.

She falls quiet again for a while, more wrapped up in her own head than conversation. It's the exact opposite of the inclination she's been badgered with. That need to tell him something, but there are just so many things that she can't decide what, so it just makes up for it in silence.

By the time she does speak up, they're pretty close to their house.

"People keep talking about how they're stuck here, and want to go home, and once they figure out this Door thing they'll be able to," she says, her voice low. "I'm not sure if that's even an option for me."

Worse yet, she doesn't know if she wants it to be an option. That would imply that she has an actual choice in the matter, and that she's made up her mind. What sane person would choose this?

"You wouldn't be the only one," Nick reassures her, figuring that by 'not even an option,' she means going back to whomever put that rebar through her. "Guess the gods figured they could liven this place up with folks who are dead back home. Give them one less reason to want to leave."

Though even some of the living are struggling with whether or not they would, if given the choice -- himself included. But who would want to stay? Who would choose this underground city run by a bunch of power-hungry gods over anything else? And even if the gods were taken out of the picture, who would remain?

Nick knows the answer to that well enough: the people who have nothing better to go back to. Even he struggles with the answer: Diamond City is home, but even it isn't a walk in the park most days. He can do good in the Commonwealth... but the folks in Hadriel need his help just as much.

And some people need him more than others. Hell, maybe he's the one who needs them.

He glances Rey's direction as they make it to the walkway, doing his best to stifle that feeling of regret that's building in him. Whether he stays or goes when this is all over, he'll be leaving people behind. He's seen the orchard: the new god is here, and already hard at work. This kind of guilt and isn't him, and he knows it, but given all they've been through, it's a hell of a lot harder to fight this time around.

"I'm not worried about being dead," she admits, her voice heavy when she speaks. She folds her arms over her chest, her muscles tightening. "I'm afraid of going back to find that I survived."

Having a rebar rammed through her chest happens to be the least of her concerns. She's seen what the psychopath who caused it can do, and that Rey would be better off dead if she ends up where she fears of going.

There is shame mixed with that fear. Shame that, for once in all of her damned lives, she is actually afraid of what is going to happen to her. She is scared for her own well-being, because she has died plenty of times before to know that that isn't the hard part.

Dying is easy. Living is what's difficult. Add doing such for your own sake to the table, and you've got the mess that is Rey's dilemma, who doesn't have even an inkling of how to do that for herself.

At least here, she has something. A purpose, a mission, and people to look out for. But who is going to look out for her back home? She doesn't expect anyone to come for her if everything goes to shit. Not even her own brother. He's got enough problems on his plate.

Rey tends to be cagey when it comes to talking about herself, and especially her fears; to hear she's actually afraid of something is a surprise. Nick can only surmise from that statement that his guess was right: she'd be going back to whomever put the rebar through her, and they wouldn't be finished with her.

And while he's curious, he's not about to ask the full details of what she's thinking will come next, should she return home. Maybe they want her dead; maybe they want to use her, turn her into a tool again. Maybe she has something they want, and they'd be taking her apart to get it. That wasn't unheard of even back home: the Brotherhood, while not common in the Commonwealth, had come through Diamond City a time or two, looking for synths, hoping to get a hold of a couple for their own research. An autopsy of one would give them a leg up on the Institute, but Nick wasn't about to volunteer himself. He was still using his body, thanks.

"Guess we'll have to cross that bridge when we come to it," he replies, climbing the steps to the front door.

The connection in his left leg gives out on the third step. He doesn't clear it, tripping on his collapsing leg the second he tries to put pressure on it. He hits the front door hard, uttering a curse to himself; his hands react automatically, one keeping him from slamming into it, the other using the knob to stabilize himself.

So much for handling it himself and not worrying Rey. It's just one more thing she doesn't need to deal with.

When such emotions can literally be used against you in this place, Rey especially isn't fond of opening up her fears and ripping them into the open for anyone to see. The things she had seen in that prison hardly compares to the battlefield, and that isn't a prospect she looks forward to experiencing for herself.

It's her heart. That's what they want, whatever the hell that's supposed to mean. Rey's arms constrict around her for a moment, still feeling the phantom pain of the metal piercing her ribs, just barely missing that heart in her chest. Couldn't have it damaged, could they? Not if that's what they're really after...

All of that fear changes course the second they start ascending the steps.

"Nick!" Rey swoops down, unwinding her arms to reach out, grab his shoulder, and reel him back. "Shit, hang on."

It's almost merciful timing. Now she can direct her concerns towards someone else, rather than dwell on her fears about her fate back home. Though she'd rather it not be Nick, seeing him fall in such a way that made her pulse skip several beats before racing.

Taking his other arm and pulling it over her shoulder, she leans back to help carry Nick's weight on the side of his lame leg. If the reality of her sheer strength hadn't been evident before, it is now, with her solid stature comparable to a bull's when she picks her roommate off the ground.

First thing's first. She goes to open the door with her free hand. They can discuss why the hell he didn't tell her that something was wrong sooner once he's stable.

Though well aware of how inhumanly strong Rey is, Nick forgets sometimes that she has the ability to lift even his heavy, mechanical frame off the ground with ease. She looks sturdier than Ellie, sure, but it's not as though she's a super mutant by comparison. Despite that, his secretary had no hope of even dragging him more than an inch, whereas Rey makes it look like child's play.

"I'm fine, Rey," he insists as she helps him inside, taking most of his weight on herself. Despite his annoyance with his failing body, Nick keeps his tone even, doing his damnedest to not worry her. This is not what he was hoping to talk about today. "The wires get crossed sometimes. It'll right itself out in a minute."

It takes every inch of self-restraint not to go off on him right then and there. But she has to plan accordingly. One thing after another.

"Stop it," she snaps, once she gets him over to the couch.

Another bout of silence takes over after Rey has made sure that Nick is settled, and that his arm isn't about to pop off next. Who knows what else isn't functioning properly, and he's just decided not to tell her about it. They're not just roommates -- they're supposed to trust each other. That's what this was all about. Or, that's what Rey had assumed. Perhaps she was wrong in the matter. Perhaps she had jumped the gun.

Whatever the case may be, she swings around to close the door, slamming it shut without fully intending to. Sometimes, she just misjudges her own strength when she isn't thinking about it.

There's plenty exchanged between the two of them in the silence that follows her reprimand: Nick sighs, frustrated with the fact he didn't take care of this sooner, and now it's delaying the conversation he wanted to have even further. The door slams behind him -- she's mad, and he knows exactly why. He was the one who'd been all talk when it came to them trusting each other, and here he is with a bum leg he didn't bother telling her about. He'd kept her out on purpose, and while he'd been hoping she wouldn't notice, the way she snaps at him says plenty about that.

He'd had his reasons, but at that second, he knows no excuse is going to be good enough. Hell, even he had to admit they weren't very good reasons to begin with.

Nick tries stretching his leg out as he waits for her, knowing there's more coming. The limb is completely non-responsive this time around; it had done the same thing a day or so ago, but even then, he hadn't brought it up to Rey, who could have given him a hand with repairs. Why?

Well, he has reasons for that, too -- ones he's still hoping to address, despite the setback.

Edited 2016-06-26 03:56 (UTC)

Blood pumps through her veins, this time for a much different reason. The initial shock has turned into something else when she turns to face Nick now.

She isn't stupid, neither is she blind. While Rey hadn't been ignorant to the condition of Nick's leg, she was hoping that she wouldn't have to be the one to ask him about it. That he'd let her know if it was that bad and save her from being snoopy.

Many questions fill her head, most in which involve a lot of yelling and infinitely more cursing. But Rey paces herself, squaring her shoulders and taking a deep inhale and exhale through her nose in hopes that she can speak without raising her voice.

"When did you start having problems with your leg?" There. That's a good one to start out with.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 1 of 54

Event Log: Regret This

sans | ota, literally all over the city

Rey | OTA

Near | OTA, shops and orchard

II

I

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Bigby Wolf | OTA, everywhere but especially around Delight's Bar

no subject

Elmer C. Albatross | open!

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject