Richie Gecko (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
notafuckingnut) wrote2012-04-09 10:18 pm
notafuckingnut) wrote2012-04-09 10:18 pm
Entry tags:
- [verse]: if the barge is a-rockin',
- caught in the landslide,
- floods have backlash,
- hello is there anybody out there,
- let's not do that again,
- life hurts,
- life should stay away from technicolor,
- lua's such a mother hen,
- my ineffable warden,
- one step forward three steps back,
- seth is his brother's keeper,
- too much information,
- you know that's on right?
[028] wish I knew what you were looking for
[Accidental VIDEO]
[He turns the letter over and over in his hands, pausing now and then to read the outside, a single word written in an all-too-familiar hand, with a worried expression. Unsettled. He already knows what's inside, he's read it a dozen times by now, maybe more, practically has the damn thing committed to memory but he's no closer to deciding what it MEANS.
He was here. He was HERE. And Richie missed him.
He unfolds the page, scanning over the words inside.
Keep your head down. Do what the warden says; you don't have to LIKE him, but do what he says. It's a prison, not Spring fucking Break. And for god's sake stay away from the girls.
There's more, more of the same, plus some encouragements on top of it but it doesn't matter because there's nothing about why he left. Like it didn't happen, like he'd never been here at all, but he was. Richie's sure he was. Only...
Lua said it was okay to be mistaken sometimes. That it happened, that sometimes things weren't the way they looked the first time.
But he'd been here. He KNOWS he was.
He frowns at the paper, a headache building somewhere in the back of his skull with his growing uncertainty. Fingers curl in, crushing, crumpling it into a ball, into nothing, and he casts it away from him, sending it skittering off into who knows where before pulling his knees towards his chest, twitching fingers running through his hair absently, a soothing gesture, for as much good as it seems to do.
He doesn't want to be here anymore. He's finished. A shove at the nightstand, just enough to jostle it without knocking it over completely, and the communicator drops to the floor, killing the feed.]
[He turns the letter over and over in his hands, pausing now and then to read the outside, a single word written in an all-too-familiar hand, with a worried expression. Unsettled. He already knows what's inside, he's read it a dozen times by now, maybe more, practically has the damn thing committed to memory but he's no closer to deciding what it MEANS.
He was here. He was HERE. And Richie missed him.
He unfolds the page, scanning over the words inside.
Keep your head down. Do what the warden says; you don't have to LIKE him, but do what he says. It's a prison, not Spring fucking Break. And for god's sake stay away from the girls.
There's more, more of the same, plus some encouragements on top of it but it doesn't matter because there's nothing about why he left. Like it didn't happen, like he'd never been here at all, but he was. Richie's sure he was. Only...
Lua said it was okay to be mistaken sometimes. That it happened, that sometimes things weren't the way they looked the first time.
But he'd been here. He KNOWS he was.
He frowns at the paper, a headache building somewhere in the back of his skull with his growing uncertainty. Fingers curl in, crushing, crumpling it into a ball, into nothing, and he casts it away from him, sending it skittering off into who knows where before pulling his knees towards his chest, twitching fingers running through his hair absently, a soothing gesture, for as much good as it seems to do.
He doesn't want to be here anymore. He's finished. A shove at the nightstand, just enough to jostle it without knocking it over completely, and the communicator drops to the floor, killing the feed.]
private
private
Re: private
private
[He can't say "home," he doesn't have one. But...he can't stay here. Not if it's going to be like this; he doesn't want to have to wonder if Seth's here or if he isn't. If he has or hasn't been.]
private
private
He's... Fuck, I don't...
[Off come the glasses, and he rubs at his eye with his palm, like he's either tired or trying to wipe something away.]
He's all I got, you know?
private
private
[It's a long shot, he knows, but he figures he might as well ask.]
Re: private
private
[...Or something.]
private, RIGHT JOURNAL THIS TIME
But Seth was here. It isn't the same, but...
private, HOORAY FOR RIGHT JOURNALS
[...Except he never does because he's always right anyway. But that's not even remotely the point.]
...He was here before that too though. Right?
private
private
He didn't remember. At least, he didn't say anything about it.