[ Ian would not have loved The Falconry back. He manages in the moment, he got particularly good at that, considering all the experience under his belt by now. Afterward, though? It's like it replays and replays and replays in his head, he obsesses over it, makes up for all the shutting down he pulled off twice over. He can keep on choking it down for a while as long as he's working, but when he runs out of things to keep his mind busy...
Well, he's in a bathroom stall with a guy he met one time, two shades before brown-out, trying not to be a woo girl at the end of the night.
It's not a deliberate choice to look away from his chosen focal point. It's that movement, the automatic instinct to look at someone who moved to face you.
Really just prying up all of his safety layers aren't you, man?
There's always room for another no, or two, or three, or four until the guy gives up. It's just that don't lie to me, and Kyna getting her foot in the door, and that he's unpleasantly drunk, and that usually steers him back toward an external, live on the surface level kind of calm. But it isn't.
So he's looking this guy in the fucking eyes and he's not happy about it exactly, but he also can't seem to break it. ]
Two years. Maybe. Started to lose track of time.
[ Because it didn't really matter, did it? All that really mattered were the seasons, nobody had impending dentist appointments or tax deadlines. Some people kept track. Some people still charged their cellphones, they stopped getting reception months and months ago but they like the familiarity and it tells them the date.
Ian wasn't one of those people. Chucked his phone in a river just a couple months in at Luke's behest. Started to kind of blur together.
But he wants to know what happened, not the sob story of how nobody got to use Instagram anymore. ]
It's gonna sound... ridiculous, or just... I'm not gonna be able to really explain it in a way that...
[ Fully encapsulates the magnitude of the whole thing, but he's not exactly a poet right now.
Whatever. Just fucking tell it. ]
It just looked like a fucking... corner. Like the corner of a cube, seriously perfect lines. I mean, it was, it turned out to be, but you couldn't really tell that because you stopped being able to... see the rest of it. The size of it, it was like Lovecraft's wet dream, it almost hurt to look at it. Came down out of cloud cover and kept on coming, and it just... It landed on... everything. City blocks, buildings, people, doesn't matter. It was nothing. Nothing did a goddamn thing to it, it just... settled. Stopped.
[ And it isn't even really that part, so much, that fucks him up. It's still so surreal, the shock hit him so hard, it was like everything went white noise. Didn't panic, didn't cry, just... stood there staring, dumbfounded, total disbelief.
Mostly, it's all the shit that came after that he doesn't want to live again. ]
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Well, he's in a bathroom stall with a guy he met one time, two shades before brown-out, trying not to be a woo girl at the end of the night.
It's not a deliberate choice to look away from his chosen focal point. It's that movement, the automatic instinct to look at someone who moved to face you.
Really just prying up all of his safety layers aren't you, man?
There's always room for another no, or two, or three, or four until the guy gives up. It's just that don't lie to me, and Kyna getting her foot in the door, and that he's unpleasantly drunk, and that usually steers him back toward an external, live on the surface level kind of calm. But it isn't.
So he's looking this guy in the fucking eyes and he's not happy about it exactly, but he also can't seem to break it. ]
Two years. Maybe. Started to lose track of time.
[ Because it didn't really matter, did it? All that really mattered were the seasons, nobody had impending dentist appointments or tax deadlines. Some people kept track. Some people still charged their cellphones, they stopped getting reception months and months ago but they like the familiarity and it tells them the date.
Ian wasn't one of those people. Chucked his phone in a river just a couple months in at Luke's behest. Started to kind of blur together.
But he wants to know what happened, not the sob story of how nobody got to use Instagram anymore. ]
It's gonna sound... ridiculous, or just... I'm not gonna be able to really explain it in a way that...
[ Fully encapsulates the magnitude of the whole thing, but he's not exactly a poet right now.
Whatever. Just fucking tell it. ]
It just looked like a fucking... corner. Like the corner of a cube, seriously perfect lines. I mean, it was, it turned out to be, but you couldn't really tell that because you stopped being able to... see the rest of it. The size of it, it was like Lovecraft's wet dream, it almost hurt to look at it. Came down out of cloud cover and kept on coming, and it just... It landed on... everything. City blocks, buildings, people, doesn't matter. It was nothing. Nothing did a goddamn thing to it, it just... settled. Stopped.
[ And it isn't even really that part, so much, that fucks him up. It's still so surreal, the shock hit him so hard, it was like everything went white noise. Didn't panic, didn't cry, just... stood there staring, dumbfounded, total disbelief.
Mostly, it's all the shit that came after that he doesn't want to live again. ]