[ solos / drabbles ] Starry, Starry Night (Chance)

[kuropeco]

paint your palette blue and gray


He looks at the stars, and he's not sure what exactly he sees anymore.

It used to be that he could tell where everything was from just a single glance. The Big and the Little Dippers. Ursa Major and Ursa Minor. Orion, and his belt of stars. The Milky Way. Sirius, the Dog Star, Chance's favorite, because he always did like dogs, and there was just something so appealing about a dog star. Sometimes, late at night, when they were supposed to be in bed, Chance would slip out of his room at the home, scale the fire escape, and sit on the roof, just staring up at the inky blackness for hours.

He was never caught. Everyone below was too wrapped up in themselves to notice one missing boy among the dozens crammed into bedrooms that held up to sixteen at a time. Chance especially was relatively looked over, people's eyes sliding from one boy to the next without recognition.

(It didn't bother him; he was used to it. In fact, most of the time, he liked it, because it meant he could continue doing whatever he wanted to do without interruption.)

Much of Deus' skies were covered here, at least from Chance's experience. It was hard to see the stars through the clouds, but he still went outside anyway. He couldn't use the rooftops here, but there was no need to sneak out, so instead, he sat in the middle of the training fields, legs drawn up against his chest, his arms wrapped around them, head tilted back. Every night, like clockwork; an unbreakable ritual.

Sometimes he brought food. Sometimes he brought coffee or soda. They weren't intended to keep him awake (he didn't need any help with that, not really), but to keep his nerves alive and active. The heady sense of pure adrenaline that stemmed from too much caffeine was a wonderfully numbing feeling, though it was starting to become less and less effective the more he did it.

He still went, even when it rained. Soaked through to the skin, Chance would make his way slowly back to his room, shivering slightly from the chill air. He would strip off his drenched clothes, exchange them for dry ones, and crawl into bed, burying his face into the pillows. Most likely, he wouldn't sleep, at least not yet. His nights stretched out in front of him, endless and open, and usually he didn't even close his eyes until almost five in the morning, sometimes later.

(He had never really liked sleeping, not that he was even capable of getting much of it. Most nights, he was getting around three or four hours at best, and it didn't seem to hinder him too much. He ran fine on next-to-nothing slumber, and besides, wasn't the time he spent sleeping much better used for other things instead?)  

[kuropeco]

how you suffered for your sanity


Deus Ex Machina was a strange place.

Chance had known this from the start, but it was the people, really, that made it the strangest. The warnings were all the same: Do what you're told and follow orders, or face the consequences, which are either terrible and painful, or death. Jack had said it first, in the pod room, when he'd first woken up. Finn had said it later, after their spar. Even Oliver had insinuated it, in a roundabout sort of way, while they'd been eating; which probably meant that, after three separate warnings, it was something important to keep in mind.

He didn't really need reminding, however. Chance's decision to learn things and to follow orders was less out of a desire to be good and more out of a desire to not die. Dying would have defeated the purpose of becoming a hunter and coming to the island in the first place, after all, and Chance was nothing if not someone who did what he had to in order to survive.

Eat or be eaten, wasn't that the phrase?

He did wish it was a little easier to find good reading material, but at least there was a library on the island, even if it was filled with mission materials instead of anything actually substantial, but there were a few things that were mildly interesting.

Chance ran his fingers absently along the spine of one of the books he'd brought with him. It was a thick one, several hundred pages, and something to do with the Dark Ages. He'd gotten to page 306 before he'd set it down again, staring idly up at the ceiling as he lay on his back on his bed. One arm lifted, shifting beneath his head to act as a makeshift pillow, while the other stretched upwards, reaching towards the sky he couldn't see. A low, thoughtful hum escaped his throat.

A few dozen stars were stuck to the ceiling of the room, forming several (inaccurate and messy) constellations. They were the simple plastic stars that glowed in the dark, often found in children's rooms. Obviously they weren't correct in terms of size and brightness, but Chance liked them anyway. It made the room glow a faint, greenish tinge, which was better than the absolute darkness when the lights went off.

(The natural darkness of outside was different from the synthesized darkness of buildings, after all.)  

[kuropeco]

shadows on the hills


He'd dripped water all over the floor of his new dormitory room, but Chance didn't particularly care. It was a sterile sort of space, with hardly any decorations at all, save for the plastic stars on the ceiling and a single picture in a simple black frame on one side of his desk. The photo was of a storefront with the words Running John's Bookstore in blocky letters on a sign above the wide glass windowpane. There was nothing else in the picture, no person, not even a caption, and it was tucked gently beside a stack of books, all of which had something to do with history or oddities of life.

Running a hand through his damp hair, Chance brought the towel to his face and rubbed at his cheeks to try and get some of the moisture out of his eyes, blinking rapidly to remove the drops from his lashes. When he could at least see relatively normal again, he draped the towel around his neck and flopped backwards onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling with his legs dangling over the side of the mattress.

He'd forgotten to leave the light on during the day; the plastic stars were dim, barely glowing, and he frowned slightly, sitting back up and standing to pad across the room and flick the switch again, the room erupting in a bright glow. It was a stark contrast to the rest of the island, which was doused in shadows and darkness, and most everyone was asleep at four in the morning, except for him.

The rain lashed against the window, pelting noisily, and Chance stepped back to his bed, this time falling forward on his stomach and pressing his face into the unfamiliar sheets. They smelled of detergent, and while it wasn't exactly an unpleasant smell, it was really what he was used to, and he gave a little sigh, closing his eyes.

{ - you are doing well so far - }

Asher's voice was reassuring. Chance smiled.  

[kuropeco]

perhaps they'll listen now


I am lost and there is no one to find me.  

[kuropeco]

on a summer's day


A part of him wondered whether or not it was worth it.

The other part of him wondered why he cared even if it wasn't.