InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "all your base are belong to us"

Samuel Jessop (newprometheus) wrote in bellumlogs,
@ 2010-01-15 22:58:00

Entry tags:

plot: memories

Who: Sam
What: Memory post
Where: P5
When: Just after the Landlord's post.
Warnings: N/A

Sam was sitting at the kitchen table with a ripped open digital camera in front of him. Tinkering with electronics often took his mind off of the piece of machinery he generally wished he was still tinkering with, and was a welcome distraction. He had a pair of goggles on for safety and magnification, and had a tiny screwdriver buried in the camera's workings, delicately pulling out a screw that was holding a microchip in place. His mind was totally in his work, absorbed to the point of forgetting everything else, which was good. That was the point, after all.

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labete
2010-01-16 05:13 am UTC (link)

Jude is across the table and she's talking to you like she knows you, cigarette in one hand. You know what she is, and she's familiar to you the way gunfire is familiar to soldiers on the battlefield. She's pushing at you, pushing because she knows what you are and why you are and she thinks it's funny that you're suffering the same way she has suffered, and maybe does suffer.

You know she's lonely, even though she hides it so well. You know she's lonely because she hides it well. You banter with her a little while. She's smart, sexy, aggressive, and you find the game to be familiar the same way she is even if you met her only a little while ago.

To you, she is transparent. You feel sorry for her. You even like her, even when she's a bitch, and even when she's tearing at you to find out how you tick. You get up from the table to leave when she gets too close and you can't hide it anymore, but you glance back at her face, and the pity wells up behind your own depression. Strange that you all end up the same...

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newprometheus
2010-01-16 05:25 am UTC (link)

When Sam came out of the vision he was leaned back in the chair, the heels of his palms pressed against his closed eyelids.

What the hell.

He took deep breaths.

He'd seen Jude. Jude alive, not Jude dead, not Jude alive-dead, unless she was, he didn't know.

But he hadn't been himself. That had been someone else, someone he didn't think he knew--but how could you possibly know if you were someone else who you were? He was getting a headache.

He finally dropped his hands to the table, staring at his former project without seeing it. Was he going totally nuts? It had felt so real, though, so like a true memory or experience, with emotion and everything.

And Jude had been in it. And he'd thought she was lonely, sad. Was she? Had she been? The fact that he honestly had no idea just escalated his panic further for some reason, and he got up, walking into the main room of the penthouse.

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