| fifty-six hours vs. forty-three years |
[05 Feb 2008|10:38am] |
For every scratch-y sound that the little handheld device hissed out, a corresponding bell-like sound would answer to it. This went on for more or less a minute and he ran through all the mathematical equations with a good ease -- back against the wall just beside the laundry room's door frame while inside the dimmer space was the constant clicking and whirring of the machine. Today was his day off after having spent 56 hours with nothing but caffeine and sandwiches in his systems and Shiro Yoshida was enjoying it by performing activities that had been waiting for him since the weekend.
And this game he was playing while he was waiting for his laundry to finish was one of them.
After a number of scratching and twinkling, a set of chimy sounds played and Shiro let out some air through his nostrils as he stretched his right once to that side then retrieved it to tap his stylus onto one of the two screens of his black Nintendo DS. Ant-like sounds now dripped out of the small stereos.
And now the moment of truth.
Your Brain Age is...
Shiro waited with the midi drums.
A big flat '43' came out to his screen.
Forty-thr--
"What?" no, Shiro could not accept this. How could that have happened when he went through the entire course with such ease? And who would have thought that seeing nothing but figures for almost three days hadn't done much good? Eyes squinted behind black-tinted glasses as a rather disappointing music played through the stereos, Dr. Kawashima telling him how his brain must be getting too old and tired but how constant practice would be sure to help it. (Shiro noted his digital optimism.)
Lips twitched as he turned his console off and then closed it, sliding the stylus somewhere by the spine of his play thing until it locked. With a small sigh through his nostrils, Shiro slid his DS into his jacket's pocket as he slid his shades off his face and began to wipe it off any print or dirt.
Maybe he should take Dr. Kawashima's advice and take another day off...
[ Open to: Xavier's ]
|
|
| Road Rage (Jean) |
[05 Feb 2008|12:12pm] |
When her husband and her daughter were alive they would always ask Irene--why does she worry about the world's problems?
To see Mrs. Adler wake up in the morning, look for the newspaper and react very strongly in every headline across the nation and across the globe (poverty, violence on women, corruption, wars in the middle east, mutant rights...) were something that Trevor and Justine had been exasperated about hearing everyday.
But they understood mutant rights and they accepted why Irene would devote herself to it. They only wished she could trust other people to share her crusade and not fight like she's a one woman army. It wasn't like Charles wasn't there, or even Erik.
Now Trevor and Justine were gone, Irene finally learned how to shut up about the day's issues and keep them to herself...Provided she finds a way to distract herself or find an outlet for all those unspoken rage.
So to find herself in traffic or a stop light, all such 'unspoken rage' swarm around her head like a bee buzzing around her ears. For that instance, it was Melissa Beatbaker's words that had been causing her such Dismay and infuriation. Irene had been dribbling her fingers on the wheel, desperately wanting to pull out a cigarette, honking if the car before her was a little slow (for her taste), and just one Snap away from using her telekinesis to move vehicles out of her way.
But Irene wasn't alone that morning, she had one of her old students with her and the girl was about to be married. As the teacher, it was Irene's prime responsibility to lead her former pupil safely towards their destination: the bridal boutique.
Before she would start tapping her fingers again during another unfortunate stoplight, Irene figured a conversation will be key towards their...survival, "Have you decided on what color?"
|
|