make a new plan, Stan. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lazyinlove) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
exsiliumlogs2013-11-25 02:29 pm
lazyinlove) wrote in exsiliumlogs2013-11-25 02:29 pm
C'est la mort. (Open)
Date & Time:Tonight, around 7.
Location:The viewing windows.
Characters:Anyone who knew Peace or who might stop to pay respects at a memorial even if they didn't know her.
Summary:A memorial gathering for an Exsile who ceased to exist with the most recent world change.
Warnings:Tears, cursing, bitterness? Not sure yet. People can label threads as they come up. Everyone is free to make their own and jump around. Prose and action are both fine.
It's a waste of emergency torches, but there are a few set up around anyway, lit that soft unearthly blue of emergency lighting. The flowers are paper, clumsily folded from discharge sheets, some from the prison, some from the clinic. There are no photos. All of the ones she was in before are empty spaces, or pictures of Stanley or others who'd been holding her at the time. The music is strings, playing softly from a haphazardly tossed tablet. There are no chairs. Instead, every pillow from 144 is on the ground as seating.
Stanley isn't sitting on one, though. He's standing at the window, staring down at the planet so far below. Today, he's combed his hair. It's still in his eyes because it's too long, but he's made the effort to tame it at any rate.
He's not sure how to start things off, but if someone shows up he'll greet them. That's what you do, right? So that's what he does.
"Thanks for coming."
Location:The viewing windows.
Characters:Anyone who knew Peace or who might stop to pay respects at a memorial even if they didn't know her.
Summary:A memorial gathering for an Exsile who ceased to exist with the most recent world change.
Warnings:Tears, cursing, bitterness? Not sure yet. People can label threads as they come up. Everyone is free to make their own and jump around. Prose and action are both fine.
It's a waste of emergency torches, but there are a few set up around anyway, lit that soft unearthly blue of emergency lighting. The flowers are paper, clumsily folded from discharge sheets, some from the prison, some from the clinic. There are no photos. All of the ones she was in before are empty spaces, or pictures of Stanley or others who'd been holding her at the time. The music is strings, playing softly from a haphazardly tossed tablet. There are no chairs. Instead, every pillow from 144 is on the ground as seating.
Stanley isn't sitting on one, though. He's standing at the window, staring down at the planet so far below. Today, he's combed his hair. It's still in his eyes because it's too long, but he's made the effort to tame it at any rate.
He's not sure how to start things off, but if someone shows up he'll greet them. That's what you do, right? So that's what he does.
"Thanks for coming."
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I was tired before, but... now I'm not.
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[She won't say resting will make him feel better, because it won't, but he still should try to get some sleep. Running on empty doesn't make any of it easier.]
You should try anyway. Is there somewhere else you can go, if you don't wanna stay in your room?
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[Crap, do people not want him in the room while Jesse's away? That's a problem he never even considered. But it seems worryingly plausible. Jesse invited him there, Lisbeth mostly seemed to resent him being there, and Mike....Mike thought he was an idiot. Oh, man. He's so not interested in sleeping in the corridors.]
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No? I just-- I thought it might be too hard, the reminders.
[Of Peace; going somewhere different can help, a little bit.]
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I dunno. It'll be fine.
[He'd imposed on Giovanni once back on the planet, but people didn't have sofas here. It wasn't the same situation.]
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She's worried, and she wants to help, but she knows there's so little she can do.]
There's plenty of people who care about you, Stanley. Don't be afraid to ask if you need somewhere, people won't think you're imposing.
[She'd offer the spare bed in her room, but even she's not staying there right now, not with Joel and Ellie such a mess. The last thing she'd want to do is throw Stan into the mess.]
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But Stanley isn't good at making friends. He's just always had them, and now they're a thousand years in the past, and he's here. He had Peace, but now he doesn't. It's his own fault. It has to be, if everyone else can make new friends and cope and he can't. But he hasn't, and he isn't.
He's not about to admit that to Steph, though. She already thinks he's a screwup. No need to prove her right.]
Okay.
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Which she can't blame him for, but still.]
Okay.
[She reaches out again, gives his shoulder a brief squeeze.]
I meant what I said before, if you need anything, you can just ask. It's not a hassle or anything.
[She wants to do what she can.]
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[Stephanie, not being privy to his thoughts on these things before, probably won't understand the reference. It's just that he hasn't figured out what it is he's supposed to ask for to make people feel better in these situations, when they offer things like that. There's gotta be some standard thing that he's just never heard of, or they wouldn't all ask. ]