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MCA #4, Friday Morning
Feb. 13th, 2015 12:00 pmWhen Atton had woken up with a great big blanket of want on his mind - his want, the neighborhood's wants, the island's wants, karking Force sensitivity - he'd rolled over and tried to will it away. After that hadn't happened, he'd tried to, uh, make it go away. So to speak.
That only held about five minutes, so eventually he rolled out of bed, looked out the window (still a blizzard), did a quick check-up of himself (still feeling like shit), eyed the kitchen (last night's pizza was good, right?) and then felt his brain go scattering out from under him again. No, heading off island right now as he'd done the first time this happened was not a good idea, so...
... thinking about what had happened the first time this happened was not a good idea because he had done things he shouldn't have done and now he was thinking of them and he also had a sudden, irritating urge to go find that Four kid and punch him in the face that he wasn't proud of. Yeah. Maybe leaving his apartment in general was a horrible idea. How much pizza did he have left?
None of these thoughts were particularly conducive to what he was trying to do about it, either. Which was sit down, cross his legs, and meditate. Like a Jedi. Ugh. Skywalker had taught him to reinforce some crap about letting emotions pass into the Force, but it was rough. Especially when thoughts like that kept crawling into his brain.
Focus. Let it go.
His comlink went off.
He growled and reached for it, pulling it towards him. "What?!"
Mical sounded perturbed on the other end of the line. "... Atton," he said. "Am I contacting you at an inconvenient time?"
"A little, yeah."
"I just wanted to say that Atris' trial will be this weekend--"
"Yeah, I'm not sure if I'm going to make that. Can you move it up by like... a week?"
"I'm no--"
"Bye."
He clicked the comlink off. What? He was sitting naked on the floor trying to will down what was going on downstairs and failing, the absolute last person he wanted to be talking to was karking Mical. He shut his eyes again and took a deep breath. Released it. Took another deep breath. Released it. Good. Took another deep breath. Rele--
The Valentine's Dance was tomorrow. Oh, kark it.
[[ can be open, though chances of Atton letting anyone into his apartment are slim. ]]
That only held about five minutes, so eventually he rolled out of bed, looked out the window (still a blizzard), did a quick check-up of himself (still feeling like shit), eyed the kitchen (last night's pizza was good, right?) and then felt his brain go scattering out from under him again. No, heading off island right now as he'd done the first time this happened was not a good idea, so...
... thinking about what had happened the first time this happened was not a good idea because he had done things he shouldn't have done and now he was thinking of them and he also had a sudden, irritating urge to go find that Four kid and punch him in the face that he wasn't proud of. Yeah. Maybe leaving his apartment in general was a horrible idea. How much pizza did he have left?
None of these thoughts were particularly conducive to what he was trying to do about it, either. Which was sit down, cross his legs, and meditate. Like a Jedi. Ugh. Skywalker had taught him to reinforce some crap about letting emotions pass into the Force, but it was rough. Especially when thoughts like that kept crawling into his brain.
Focus. Let it go.
His comlink went off.
He growled and reached for it, pulling it towards him. "What?!"
Mical sounded perturbed on the other end of the line. "... Atton," he said. "Am I contacting you at an inconvenient time?"
"A little, yeah."
"I just wanted to say that Atris' trial will be this weekend--"
"Yeah, I'm not sure if I'm going to make that. Can you move it up by like... a week?"
"I'm no--"
"Bye."
He clicked the comlink off. What? He was sitting naked on the floor trying to will down what was going on downstairs and failing, the absolute last person he wanted to be talking to was karking Mical. He shut his eyes again and took a deep breath. Released it. Took another deep breath. Released it. Good. Took another deep breath. Rele--
The Valentine's Dance was tomorrow. Oh, kark it.
[[ can be open, though chances of Atton letting anyone into his apartment are slim. ]]
