Day One, Greenie.
Feb. 9th, 2015 11:47 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wegotarunner[Open Spam]
[Thomas arrives on the deck of the ship with a look of weariness not only on his features, but one that's settled into his shoulders. Chuck's carving is still clutched tightly in his hand. There's still blood on his clothes. On his hands. His face is streaked with dirt and sweat and blood from a cut above his eye and another on his cheek.
So this is the Barge.
He looks up at the sky with wide eyes, momentarily distracted by the sight and forgetting the events of the last few hours. But only momentarily. He blinks himself out of his dazed stupor and rubs a hand over his face. It takes him a moment to get his bearings. The first thing he needs to do is find his room, and take a long, hot shower. Change his clothes. Get something to eat. It's been hours since he last ate anything and his stomach isn't happy about it.
And then he's going to explore the Barge, find out where everything is. Figure out what to do from there. He's sure there's a lot to learn about this place, about the people he's now sharing space with. He's not completely thrilled about having to meet a whole slew of new people. People who won't know him, who will probably treat him like an outsider. Like he's not to be trusted.
Truthfully, he's still not sure should be. He remembers Newt's words. That who he used to be doesn't matter, it's who he is now that counts. And he can't save them if he focuses on things he can't do anything about. He has to stay focused.
For Newt. For Minho. For Teresa. For Alby. Ben. Even for Gally.
But most of all, for Chuck.]
[Video]
[Thomas appears on screen looking better than he had only an hour ago for those who ran into him on the way from the deck to his room. He's cleaned up, all the blood and sweat and dirt gone from his skin. The cut above his eye and the one on his cheek are still there but they look a little less angry now. He also looks a little hesitant, like he's not sure about this.]
Someone said I should introduce myself.
I'm Thomas.
[Thomas arrives on the deck of the ship with a look of weariness not only on his features, but one that's settled into his shoulders. Chuck's carving is still clutched tightly in his hand. There's still blood on his clothes. On his hands. His face is streaked with dirt and sweat and blood from a cut above his eye and another on his cheek.
So this is the Barge.
He looks up at the sky with wide eyes, momentarily distracted by the sight and forgetting the events of the last few hours. But only momentarily. He blinks himself out of his dazed stupor and rubs a hand over his face. It takes him a moment to get his bearings. The first thing he needs to do is find his room, and take a long, hot shower. Change his clothes. Get something to eat. It's been hours since he last ate anything and his stomach isn't happy about it.
And then he's going to explore the Barge, find out where everything is. Figure out what to do from there. He's sure there's a lot to learn about this place, about the people he's now sharing space with. He's not completely thrilled about having to meet a whole slew of new people. People who won't know him, who will probably treat him like an outsider. Like he's not to be trusted.
Truthfully, he's still not sure should be. He remembers Newt's words. That who he used to be doesn't matter, it's who he is now that counts. And he can't save them if he focuses on things he can't do anything about. He has to stay focused.
For Newt. For Minho. For Teresa. For Alby. Ben. Even for Gally.
But most of all, for Chuck.]
[Video]
[Thomas appears on screen looking better than he had only an hour ago for those who ran into him on the way from the deck to his room. He's cleaned up, all the blood and sweat and dirt gone from his skin. The cut above his eye and the one on his cheek are still there but they look a little less angry now. He also looks a little hesitant, like he's not sure about this.]
Someone said I should introduce myself.
I'm Thomas.
no subject
Date: 2015-02-09 11:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-02-10 12:05 am (UTC)Do you?
no subject
Date: 2015-02-10 12:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-02-10 12:32 am (UTC)How do you know when you should?
no subject
Date: 2015-02-10 12:35 am (UTC)It gets to be instinct, after a while of not being told to make the wrong choices.
no subject
Date: 2015-02-10 12:59 am (UTC)[He rubs a hand over his face and leans back a little.]
no subject
Date: 2015-02-10 06:50 pm (UTC)I'm Cassel. You know what you're doing here yet?
no subject
Date: 2015-02-10 11:18 pm (UTC)Yeah. To help out.
[To set things right.]
no subject
Date: 2015-02-11 07:44 pm (UTC)[There's a spark of mischief, the cruel kind, in his eyes now. He wouldn't ordinarily be this obtuse, but he's still all turned around, so he's in a mulish mood.]
no subject
Date: 2015-02-11 09:59 pm (UTC)[He looks down. God knows he's made the wrong choices already.]
no subject
Date: 2015-02-16 11:45 pm (UTC)God, you're depressive.
no subject
Date: 2015-02-17 02:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-02-20 12:38 am (UTC)Why do you think you're gonna fuck up?
no subject
Date: 2015-02-20 03:38 am (UTC)[He shrugs a little.]
It's what happens, right? It's all trial and error.