Howard Bassem (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
iselldrugstothecommunity) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
trans_92011-10-04 11:05 am
iselldrugstothecommunity) wrote in trans_92011-10-04 11:05 am
Nobody Fears the Height, You All Just Fear the Fall [Open]
When Howard was younger, before the FAYZ, he and Orc would occasionally hang out at the edge of the cliffs, throwing things off the edge. It was typical teenage destructivity, layered on top of the thrill of doing something their parents had warned them against. "Those cliffs are unstable! The edge could crumble off right under your feet!" And of course, all the teenagers knew that the edge of the cliffs were fine, and that the rumors of rockslides were horror stories based less in fact than in scare tactics.
Howard sits on the edge of one of the cliffs, dangling his feet over the edge, flicking his pocketknife open and closed. It's weird that here on Stacy, the cliffs overlook the City, rather than the ocean. It makes everything look wrong.
He gathered an armful of small stones before taking a seat here. They sit next to him now, and between clicks of the knife, he occasionally tosses one over the edge. It's far enough down that he can see, but not hear, the impact when each rock hits the bottom.
He's not alone from the FAYZ anymore. That should make him glad, that there are other refugees besides him and Albert. And that's what they are, really. Not Stacy's abducted crew, but practically unintentional stowaways, freeloaders running away from the nightmare of their home. But he can't find it in himself to be happy about it. Instead he just feels frustrated and tired, like there's a cloud between his brain and his face, holding him back from really experiencing anything.
He just misses Orc, he tells himself, before flinging another rock in the City's general direction. It falls short, just like all the others.
Howard sits on the edge of one of the cliffs, dangling his feet over the edge, flicking his pocketknife open and closed. It's weird that here on Stacy, the cliffs overlook the City, rather than the ocean. It makes everything look wrong.
He gathered an armful of small stones before taking a seat here. They sit next to him now, and between clicks of the knife, he occasionally tosses one over the edge. It's far enough down that he can see, but not hear, the impact when each rock hits the bottom.
He's not alone from the FAYZ anymore. That should make him glad, that there are other refugees besides him and Albert. And that's what they are, really. Not Stacy's abducted crew, but practically unintentional stowaways, freeloaders running away from the nightmare of their home. But he can't find it in himself to be happy about it. Instead he just feels frustrated and tired, like there's a cloud between his brain and his face, holding him back from really experiencing anything.
He just misses Orc, he tells himself, before flinging another rock in the City's general direction. It falls short, just like all the others.
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