Richard Lawson (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
misterlawson) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
exsiliumlogs2013-12-30 04:46 pm
misterlawson) wrote in exsiliumlogs2013-12-30 04:46 pm
Entry tags:
( closed ) fade out to black
Date & Time: December 30th, 3313
Location: ~5 miles out from the Transport Pad, Pub Stables
Characters: Richard Lawson & Stanley Lucerne
Summary: Richard hits the limit for what distance he can roam; Stanley is the unfortunate who witnesses his fade to black.
Warnings: Character death/disappearance.
The yak in the stall next to him chewed cud with a rhythm almost lulling to Richard's senses. His canteen of alcohol, hard earned in menial labor that he was only good at for being able to haul things from point A to point B, rested under the outer furs of his ragged, second-hand coat. There wasn't much left in it anymore. He fumbled it out, hands shaking, pausing halfway through the motion.
Richard couldn't remember what he was doing, or why. Concentration was getting progressively more difficult. The edges of his vision turned dark, as if he were about to faint, but it never follows through. Only his heart sped along, skipping beats here and there.
"I'm Richard Lawson," he said out loud, hand tightening around his canteen. "I'm from the United Earth. I was born... I was... I was born to..."
He couldn't remember. Worse than it had been back when he'd been going through detox, where time lost definition, and memory and illusion merged into some unholy amalgamation of true and not true. Worse than then.
He didn't know when he'd started crying, but as he tried to pull himself to his feet in the straw filled stall, he knew that he was. Snot was leaving a cold trail down his lip. He rubs the back of his gloved hand under his nose.
"Transports, transport...ation, transported through time, time, time... Out of time. Running out of time?" He asked the question looking at the yak, which didn't even have the courtesy to look back his way. No, Richard thought, even the damn Yak had better things to do than pretend to care about his life, or the lives of anyone other than the Yak.
"You're an ass," he stated, knees threatening to give out again. With a huff of air, he started falling again, catching himself on the stall divider. "A furry... fat... ass!"
Location: ~5 miles out from the Transport Pad, Pub Stables
Characters: Richard Lawson & Stanley Lucerne
Summary: Richard hits the limit for what distance he can roam; Stanley is the unfortunate who witnesses his fade to black.
Warnings: Character death/disappearance.
The yak in the stall next to him chewed cud with a rhythm almost lulling to Richard's senses. His canteen of alcohol, hard earned in menial labor that he was only good at for being able to haul things from point A to point B, rested under the outer furs of his ragged, second-hand coat. There wasn't much left in it anymore. He fumbled it out, hands shaking, pausing halfway through the motion.
Richard couldn't remember what he was doing, or why. Concentration was getting progressively more difficult. The edges of his vision turned dark, as if he were about to faint, but it never follows through. Only his heart sped along, skipping beats here and there.
"I'm Richard Lawson," he said out loud, hand tightening around his canteen. "I'm from the United Earth. I was born... I was... I was born to..."
He couldn't remember. Worse than it had been back when he'd been going through detox, where time lost definition, and memory and illusion merged into some unholy amalgamation of true and not true. Worse than then.
He didn't know when he'd started crying, but as he tried to pull himself to his feet in the straw filled stall, he knew that he was. Snot was leaving a cold trail down his lip. He rubs the back of his gloved hand under his nose.
"Transports, transport...ation, transported through time, time, time... Out of time. Running out of time?" He asked the question looking at the yak, which didn't even have the courtesy to look back his way. No, Richard thought, even the damn Yak had better things to do than pretend to care about his life, or the lives of anyone other than the Yak.
"You're an ass," he stated, knees threatening to give out again. With a huff of air, he started falling again, catching himself on the stall divider. "A furry... fat... ass!"