Room 418, afternoon

[notajar]

Door doesn't brood, despite the fact that lying on your bed with your chin on your hands staring at nothing might look like brooding. It's a waste of time, doesn't make things better and it certainly doesn't make you feel better when you're unhappy.

But what's been -- aside from a certain best-forgotten adventure in the library -- a great week of new students, name tags, parties, prizes, porn (the kind worth remembering) , interesting new classes and teachers, fetched up on a sour note last night.

It bothers her, this idea of losing a sense you've had since you were tiny. She can imagine being dead more easily -- too easily -- than she can imagine being ... blinded, like that. Yet she keeps trying to wrap her mind around it, and that bothers her too, but there's got to be a reason for it.

So it's not brooding. It's productive. She just doesn't know what it's producing yet.

[Locked to connernotconnor, lest my brain go splodey. You wouldn't want that all over your friendslist. Icky icky ptang, no.]

Comments

[connernotconnor.livejournal.com]

"Somebody took away their powers?" repeats Conner, with a full-body wince that explains exactly what he thinks of that. He still remembers what it was like to lose his powers that first time, and he did it willingly; he doesn't want to think about what it must be like to have them forcibly taken away.

He fiddles with his bracelet as he continues, "I'm guessing -- hoping -- Anders is rallying the troops. We'll probably need to get people together to figure out what all we know before we go after them, but I'll tell you one thing I know for sure. It's never a good sign when somebody tries to kidnap Rangers. Or future Rangers."

[notajar]

"I had the same reaction." Door nods. "Consider me rallied."

[connernotconnor.livejournal.com]

"Awesome. Give you a call in a bit when we get things figured out?"

[notajar]

She nods again. "I'll be here." Not brooding.