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[voice]
Um-- in case anyone we know is concerned, I just wanted to let you all know that Neil and I are staying at the warehouse, with Rosella. It's... well, a lot safer than our apartment is, and-- I don't know, it's sort of comforting to have more people around with all of this going on.
It seems like it's a good thing we managed to come yesterday, too... it sounds like things are getting worse out there. I, uh-- I don't know if there's really much that I can do, but... if anyone has any ideas on how to fix this and needs people to help, I'll do whatever I can. I mean, if there's anything I can do. I'm not anything special... I don't have any powers, I'm not strong or even exceptionally smart, but... the City is my home. I don't want to see it destroyed. I don't even want to leave. Right now I'm just trying to stay safe and stay out of the way, but if there's something more I can do... I will.
We helped patch the barrier once before-- that was with the deities, and... well, they've been pretty quiet during all this, but... still. There has to be something that we can do.
[later that evening... action @ the warehouse]
[One of the best ways Todd has to unwind is to write. That shouldn't be surprising to anyone who knows him, of course. It's not that it's a form of escapism, though; it's more a way to move beyond dwelling on his current situation and move his mind into a different type of reasoning, one that's more abstract and subjective. It lets him approach one thing from a multitude of perspectives and connect things in ways he wouldn't have thought of otherwise. It's an exercise which makes working through all the conflicting, disorganized streams of thought in his mind seem a bit less impossible.
Of course, this is a bit larger than most of the situations he's approached this way. Right now, all he seems to get is doom and gloom, circular verses that don't work through anything but rather plant themselves firmly in a rut. If anything, it's making it worse.
Still, he doesn't what else to do with himself right now. So he sits on the bed in the room he and Neil have been put up in, in the warehouse, and he writes, and all of his frustrations and fears tumble out onto the paper in a frantic, scrawled jumble of words.]
[ooc: Backtag warning! I'm crashing soon and prob. won't be back until after work tomorrow (though I may sneak a few tags if it's a lighter day >>;). But, I will be backtagging on both this and Wilson's entry from yesterday. <3]
Um-- in case anyone we know is concerned, I just wanted to let you all know that Neil and I are staying at the warehouse, with Rosella. It's... well, a lot safer than our apartment is, and-- I don't know, it's sort of comforting to have more people around with all of this going on.
It seems like it's a good thing we managed to come yesterday, too... it sounds like things are getting worse out there. I, uh-- I don't know if there's really much that I can do, but... if anyone has any ideas on how to fix this and needs people to help, I'll do whatever I can. I mean, if there's anything I can do. I'm not anything special... I don't have any powers, I'm not strong or even exceptionally smart, but... the City is my home. I don't want to see it destroyed. I don't even want to leave. Right now I'm just trying to stay safe and stay out of the way, but if there's something more I can do... I will.
We helped patch the barrier once before-- that was with the deities, and... well, they've been pretty quiet during all this, but... still. There has to be something that we can do.
[later that evening... action @ the warehouse]
[One of the best ways Todd has to unwind is to write. That shouldn't be surprising to anyone who knows him, of course. It's not that it's a form of escapism, though; it's more a way to move beyond dwelling on his current situation and move his mind into a different type of reasoning, one that's more abstract and subjective. It lets him approach one thing from a multitude of perspectives and connect things in ways he wouldn't have thought of otherwise. It's an exercise which makes working through all the conflicting, disorganized streams of thought in his mind seem a bit less impossible.
Of course, this is a bit larger than most of the situations he's approached this way. Right now, all he seems to get is doom and gloom, circular verses that don't work through anything but rather plant themselves firmly in a rut. If anything, it's making it worse.
Still, he doesn't what else to do with himself right now. So he sits on the bed in the room he and Neil have been put up in, in the warehouse, and he writes, and all of his frustrations and fears tumble out onto the paper in a frantic, scrawled jumble of words.]
[ooc: Backtag warning! I'm crashing soon and prob. won't be back until after work tomorrow (though I may sneak a few tags if it's a lighter day >>;). But, I will be backtagging on both this and Wilson's entry from yesterday. <3]