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 Posted: Fri May 29, 2015 10:50 pm
Sometimes, silence was deafening. It made not a sound, but the very absence left a gaping hole in people’s hearts. Silence was a force to be reckoned, but for Wilson Hopkins, sometimes he could not remember the last time he had experienced true quiet.
Sometimes, he could barely hear his weapon amongst the sea of whispers, but most times he figured Dabir had grown too tired of trying to shout above the background noise. Wilson couldn’t blame him. On days that were quiet, when the voices were just hums and mumbles, he would close his eyes and call out to his weapon, and Dabir, in turn would answer in his raspy voice. Quiet, slow conversations would ensue, but today was not a quiet day.
It was a day filled with screams, clashing metal, and memories—he assumed they were memories—that were not his own. How fortunately that Wilson’s paper cup was now devoid of coffee, because the more he drowned in his dreams the tighter he clutched the cup until it was nothing more than a crumpled ball.
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Posted: Fri May 29, 2015 11:40 pm
Another paper cup full of murky instant coffee was slowly slid across the table toward Wilson. "You... look like you could use another," someone who was definitely not Dabir murmured. The heavily-accented speaker in question appeared to be several cups into his own attempt to transcend sleep, judging by the dark circles under his eyes, and the way his hands were starting to shake from the caffeine spike. He nursed his own cup, about half-full. At some point they had slid into the seat across from Wilson, but glanced at the crumpled cup with a knowing empathy rather than worry.
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Posted: Sat May 30, 2015 1:29 am
He didn’t hear it at first—just another voice to join the others, but then the cheap aroma finally made it to his nose. Wilson looked at his hands at first, and realizing he had crushed his cup jolted out of his thoughts and helplessly watched the crumpled paper fall to the ground with an unsatisfying plop. Wilson watched it for a moment, perhaps contemplating the state of his current affairs before sighing and pulling the warm coffee toward him. “Thank you,” he murmured.
They could almost look like twins with their matching dark circles. After taking a long drink, he put the cup down with an almost-pleased sigh and looked at Lucky. Hm. Hadn’t he seen this hunter on group missions a couple times before? A glance to Lucky’s own cup. “How many?”
AstaraeI what empathy such comrades it's like wilson could let this guy....do research on him........
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Posted: Mon Jun 15, 2015 12:33 am
The life hunter smiled darkly, taking another sip. "Five." "Something on your mind?" Lucky finally asked, gesturing with a single finger toward the soggy mess on the floor that was Wilson's last cup. "I mean, the coffee's bad, but not that bad, usually."
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Posted: Thu Oct 15, 2015 10:02 pm
Five was a modest number, but the night was still young. Wilson just nodded and drank his coffee. Did he even still have coffee? The mun He couldn't remember.
"Nothing that isn't new," he answered vaguely, leaning back and tapping his fingers against the table. "Just the usual traumas. You?"
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