Welcome to Gaia! ::

The long yellow page of the legal pad, scrawled over with pencil and ink of every color, was flipped and tucked behind, revealing a fresh sheet crisp and awaiting its owner's thoughts. Lucas had found the thing half-filled, abandoned on a whim in younger days. Only about a fourth of the paper remained, but it seemed a waste to toss it. Besides, the stuff was so much easier to keep track of when it was already bound together. Who cared if there were twenty or so years of writing missing from the middle?

really sunny today, nice and warm. might take a nap later. they've got some of the best coffee here. well maybe not the best. the best was probably that green tea what-was-it-called from starmiebucks. it didn't really taste like coffee but it was sooo delicious

Lucas, of course, ignored the odd stares with which the other occupants of the cafeteria regarded him as he wrote at a furious pace, fighting to record the thoughts as they formed in his mind.

Lucas became vaguely aware of a presence behind him. Not that he minded. He wasn't writing anything particularly secret, after all. The presence, however, suddenly became rather noisy, increasingly so. He continued writing nonetheless.

merry's been adapting pretty well too. i was worried at first since she's always so shy but i guess she doesn't care as long as arceus will you stop that damned noise

He glanced over his shoulder, turning slowly in his seat to the person, a young woman, responsible for the distraction.

"I, uhh... Can I help you?"

"I'm not-" But Arceus, she looked so excited, so hopeful. Lucas just didn't have the heart to let her down like that. He sighed and combed a hand through his hair. "I guess these are just notes? I mean, I dunno... I don't really have a, uh... a premise, you know? A plot thing. Just, like... characters? And maybe events?" He glanced back at his notes with an inward grimace. Oh, now this was awkward. He wasn't a huge fan of fiction. He barely even read in the first place, especially not recreationally. How was he supposed to pass himself off as a writer?

Lucas leaned back as she leaned forward. "Uhh, well. Okay. Um. Lemme just... find something." His eyes lingered on her even as his hands reached for the notepad, as though he were worried she would somehow find a way to come even closer the minute he turned his gaze from her. He thumbed to the beginning of the notes, looking to their contents. Judging from the events, he had been about twenty or so when he wrote them.

"Uh, so the main character's name is... Luke." Okay, so maybe the reason Lucas had never read nor written fiction was because he didn't have the imagination necessary to understand the art. "And he's a member of this... underground... group of extremists called, uh... Universe. In this part," he gestured to the page, "he's arguing with his best friend because of... something stupid. He's a pretty petty guy."

The part Lucas indicated was somewhat difficult to make out. He had recorded it only shortly after losing vision in his left eye and had still been adjusting to his limited sight, doing all things hastily out of frustration.

morrison keeps saying it's my fault this happened. keeps calling me stupid. if anyone's stupid it's him!!! isn't that b*****d supposed to have my back??

Lucas resisted the weak chuckle that threatened at her hesitant appraisal of his story this far. Well, it didn't matter even if she was lying, he reminded himself. It wasn't as though he could rewrite his autobiography, no matter how he wished.

"Well, the reason they're arguing is because Luke messed up when they were... attacking a church?" What. "Um, because the church is like... evil. They extort people for money and stuff. So everyone is really poor. And Universe wants to return power to the people." So much for autobiographical. "Luke was badly hurt on account of being too confident," or so people had told him, "and lost sight in one of his eyes. What he didn't know was that his friend was angry because he was worried about him. So... yeah."

He scratched the side of his neck nervously. Even if he was posing as an author, he couldn't help that feeling that it was his very life that was being judged.

Lucas couldn't help but grin at the girl's enthusiasm. Perhaps he would write a book if the very concept of it made her so happy.

"Well, he was pretty upset on the outside, but inside he was depressed, afraid even. He couldn't remember exactly what had happened, and he was worried that it might happen again." A nostalgic smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "He had good friends, though, and they put up with him even though he was being a jerk. He came out of it all a much better person than he had been."

He flipped forward a few pages, his expression sobering when he realized exactly what it was that happened next. "A while later, he and his friend got sent on a mission together. It was supposed to be a big one, but they were top-class agents and could handle anything. They went together but... only Luke came back." Sorrow, immense and indescribable, seized Lucas, and he fought it away from his expression.

"It could have been shock, or maybe it was just something he didn't want to remember." Lucas's tone implied that it was some great mystery intentionally written in to make the reader wonder. He felt it was a fairly amazing cover-up.

"Oh, no way; he was a huge jerk." He raised shook a fist slightly as if to emphasize 'Luke's' level of jerkiness. "Besides, I'm 'putting up' with you, right?" He flashed a friendly smile. Her energy might have been a bit tiring, but he certainly wasn't in any hurry to chase her off.

He exhaled quietly through his nose. "His partner died on that mission," he explained. "Luke... might have been the one that killed him. I'm not sure, though. I'm still trying to figure that part out." There was more truth to those words than the context implied.

Lucas didn't particularly want to think about the questions with which he was being presented. They were events he had shoved aside, emotions that he had worked hard to move past. He rested his forehead against his palm as the girl spoke, memories working their way to the surface against his will. A thought, composed of words he had heard years ago, whispered through his mind:

This 'freedom' thing you hear about every now and then, what do you think it's like?

"He's not dead..." His head bolted up with the sudden realization. "He's not dead after all! He just ran away!" He turned to the girl, face all aglow. "He's still alive!" Lucas could of kissed her from sheer joy, but he managed to restrain himself.