Dr. Sefton Lowell (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
biomagnet) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
caveofsapphires2012-05-02 10:28 pm
biomagnet) wrote in caveofsapphires2012-05-02 10:28 pm
this place ain't doing me any good [ open ]
WHO: Sefton (Jeremy) and OPEN.
WHAT: Coping with a strange new world.
WHERE: (Cave) The library, the supply depot, then finally the living quarters.
WHEN: May 2nd.
WARNINGS: Jumpy Sefton will be extremely jumpy. Don't touch him unless you want his foot in your face or something.
They had woken him at night. Taken him to his room and instructed him to report to work in the morning (how was he supposed to tell underground?), and left him to his own devices. It was all well enough, considering Sefton certainly needed as much time as possible to try and come to terms with the shock. Not only due to the story they had fed him—his life a lie? No way, no how, those feelings he remembered were far too vibrant, too deeply engraved in his psyche to be only a delusion. It didn't help him understand the current circumstances, but he was certain of that.
No, the shock came from the absence of his power. The sensation he'd felt for further than his memory could reach was suddenly missing, leaving his skin feeling like plastic, smooth and cold and unnatural. It felt like someone had ripped him out of his own skin and left him here to shiver in the cold and confusion. His entire first night was spent trying to cope, smothering his panic and the urge to lash out in favor of silent sobs and repression. There was nothing he could currently do about it (what was he supposed to do, now that something vital to him had gone missing somewhere between a dream and a reality?) and he had plenty of practice shoving away things he had no recourse to fix.
Morning came soon enough. He hadn't quite rested as well as his body demanded, but he managed to sneak in a few hours' worth of sleep and report for "work" at the Library. It was really more just a way to busy himself, puttering about to familiarize himself with the system in case anyone asked him a question. The man he reported to had been understanding enough to let him in (he'd forgotten his keycard, writing it off as not worth it due to the magnetic strip) and not to shoo him out of the back corner Sefton wedged himself into to accomplish this task, where he stayed for much of the day, falling into the words and processes and pretending like the panic wasn't lurking in his gut every minute of the way.
As soon as his shift was declared over, Sefton rocketed from the building and made a beeline for the Supply Depot. Something was missing and he was very intent to get back the pieces of normalcy that might help to anchor him. He left soon after with a new scarf wrapped around his neck and a comfortable pair of tennis shoes hooked on his fingers. (He had an ID card foisted on him while he was there, too, but it wasn't like it really mattered.)
It was when he finally made his way back to the living quarters that he deemed it safe enough to sit to change his shoes. It was a small thing, but it helped and that was almost worse than simply staying completely on guard. He tilted his head back against the wall next to his door and stayed there for a while. He didn't really care to notice how long.
WHAT: Coping with a strange new world.
WHERE: (Cave) The library, the supply depot, then finally the living quarters.
WHEN: May 2nd.
WARNINGS: Jumpy Sefton will be extremely jumpy. Don't touch him unless you want his foot in your face or something.
They had woken him at night. Taken him to his room and instructed him to report to work in the morning (how was he supposed to tell underground?), and left him to his own devices. It was all well enough, considering Sefton certainly needed as much time as possible to try and come to terms with the shock. Not only due to the story they had fed him—his life a lie? No way, no how, those feelings he remembered were far too vibrant, too deeply engraved in his psyche to be only a delusion. It didn't help him understand the current circumstances, but he was certain of that.
No, the shock came from the absence of his power. The sensation he'd felt for further than his memory could reach was suddenly missing, leaving his skin feeling like plastic, smooth and cold and unnatural. It felt like someone had ripped him out of his own skin and left him here to shiver in the cold and confusion. His entire first night was spent trying to cope, smothering his panic and the urge to lash out in favor of silent sobs and repression. There was nothing he could currently do about it (what was he supposed to do, now that something vital to him had gone missing somewhere between a dream and a reality?) and he had plenty of practice shoving away things he had no recourse to fix.
Morning came soon enough. He hadn't quite rested as well as his body demanded, but he managed to sneak in a few hours' worth of sleep and report for "work" at the Library. It was really more just a way to busy himself, puttering about to familiarize himself with the system in case anyone asked him a question. The man he reported to had been understanding enough to let him in (he'd forgotten his keycard, writing it off as not worth it due to the magnetic strip) and not to shoo him out of the back corner Sefton wedged himself into to accomplish this task, where he stayed for much of the day, falling into the words and processes and pretending like the panic wasn't lurking in his gut every minute of the way.
As soon as his shift was declared over, Sefton rocketed from the building and made a beeline for the Supply Depot. Something was missing and he was very intent to get back the pieces of normalcy that might help to anchor him. He left soon after with a new scarf wrapped around his neck and a comfortable pair of tennis shoes hooked on his fingers. (He had an ID card foisted on him while he was there, too, but it wasn't like it really mattered.)
It was when he finally made his way back to the living quarters that he deemed it safe enough to sit to change his shoes. It was a small thing, but it helped and that was almost worse than simply staying completely on guard. He tilted his head back against the wall next to his door and stayed there for a while. He didn't really care to notice how long.
no subject
no subject
Finally, he sighed. "If I say yes, would you actually leave?"
no subject
"Depends on the yes, I guess. Is that a yes to the alright or the yes to the new?" No it hadn't been a question but Trip didn't want to leave yet so he was more then willing to play dumb.