SOUNDS OF CREATION AT MY DOOR
#9
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Grumpy pants jr. is here!




He would try harder. Despite the knot of anxiety that tightened in his stomach and bowels at the thought, the boy had made that resolution to himself. Whether or not he had been absent from the other's minds, he had certainly been absent from their lives, slinking about the Valley lands with a heavy heart and a head hung low. Out of sight, out of mind, had been his philosophy up until now, and out of mind he wished to be. Jefferson had never announced the cause of his accident, but direct words were often not needed to reveal even the best kept secrets. And despite his father's insistence and reassurance there was no other explanation. A son for an arm, but what kind of trade off was that when Jefferson was stuck with Pripyat for a son?

As he combed through Halifax earlier in the day his mind kept drifting to Geneva. Sick, somewhere away from him, he couldn’t help but imagine her growing thinner, more fragile, heavier breath… whatever it was that the sickness did to her. Still, despite her suffering, he was sure that if she had stayed than everything would be okay. If Mother were here than he wouldn’t turn guilty eyes upon his father and skirt the rest of the members, he would focus on her and making her better. The smoky boy would have made her better, if only she had stayed.

He let the ghost of his mother slip from his mind as he headed to the meeting, nails and screws in a small sack he carried with him, some salvaged wood planks carried under his free arm. As the boy approached them he straightened his shoulders, wiped the misery from his face and imagined all the warm welcomes and greetings that would transpire between him and the others. Noah, Xeris, and Jefferson even… yet his feet froze as he moved along and before he came into sight movement halted all together.

Just get to it you idiot. Ears fell flat against a head that had grown rather broad at his own inner monologue. Still his feet did not move and closing his eyes for a long moment it was only the image he conjured up of another that set him in motion once again. And once moving he did not allow himself to stop until he strode in, past all the others without lifting his eyes to them, and dropped the pile of wood and the small sack of nails at his father's feet. "Ah, sorry it took me so long… I was…" And the words died away before the thought was finished, wrapping it up with a heavy sigh as if to indicate it didn't really matter what he had been doing. It made no difference anyway, at least he was here.


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