Backstage - OOC Forums

Please login or register.

Login with username, password and session length
Advanced search  

Did you know:

That there are minmatar who willingly serve the Amarr empire? More here

Author Topic: 2345  (Read 105 times)

Trensk Mikakka

  • Clonejack
  • Offline Offline
  • Posts: 12
2345
« on: 09 Dec 2016, 23:55 »

It was 2345, and Trensk couldn't sleep.

Elizabeth was asleep in the next room, he was sure of that much. Going to a new school must've taken a lot out of her. But he wasn't worried about that. She was strong. She could handle it. Change of venue couldn't kill her.

He got up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, standing up fully. He quietly shifted over to the closet, sliding a thin hooded jacket over his sweatpants-and-tee-clad frame. Zip it up exactly 1/2 to 3/4 up the breastbone, as per usual. A watch cap slid over his skull, low over his eyes. Some habits die hard. Trensk finally slipped on his boots (he didn't really own anything else for shoes), and moved to the door, quiet as a mouse. He didn't want to disturb Elizabeth. He was going for a walk.

It was 2350, and Trensk couldn't sleep.

He stalked down the halls of his hab-block of the citadel, not many people up in his area at this time. His hood was up, and he made a subconscious effort to avoid those still alive and kicking around him. He didn't really want to deal with anyone right now. Farther and farther he roamed, travelling to the park and recreation area of his hab-block. There were a few here. Teenage couples, hormones raging, causing hell. Adults, out for a stroll. The normal for this time. He moved on. He didn't belong there.

It was 2355, and Trensk couldn't sleep.

He finally reached his objective, out of the way, out of mind, out of sight. He came here often. Not many people used it. It was an old observation port, secluded away at the side of the hab-block, meant for those wanting a bit of religious freedom, or a quiet place to be. Steel chairs lined the walls of the rectangular room, while low, hand-carved wooden benches sat in rows in the center of the room, facing a massive view port, 24 feet high by easily 48 feet long, and most likely half a foot thick, despite the crystal-clear view it offered. The scene in front of him was the only lighting for the massive room.

Stars littered the panorama, creating bright freckles along the face of the universe, while the looming, monolithic globe of the planet dwarfed half the view, the green continents, bright blue oceans, and swirling, angry clouds creating a stark contrast to the dead abyss of the galaxy behind it. Life in death. One couldn't live without the other. Without life, you couldn't know death, and without death, how could you know to enjoy life? Questions that would haunt many 'till their last days. But Trensk didn't care about that. The metal implants lodged in him gave him that ability, even at the cost of his rest, his mind.

Trensk sat in the front, on a bench in the exact center of the view port. He stared out, his eyes glossing over with the raging storm of thoughts that plagued his mind on the daily. He wasn't anything special in that regard. Many people had issues that caused problems. Many of those had just...seen things. Experiences that would never leave them. Many veterans, combat pilots, soldiers, capsuleers, they'd all had something happen. It was impossible not to see something. Even if you had seen peace all your career, you were still...Changed. You didn't find much in common with the civilians, the ones that you pledged to protect. They wouldn't know. They couldn't. You made sure of that. You existed so they wouldn't have to deal with it.

It was 0000, and Trensk couldn't sleep.

He shifted in his seat, and bowed his head. His hands clasped together, his form reminiscent of the usual Amarrian praying position, when they wanted to speak with God, for help with whatever ailed them. Some asked for fortune, others asked for love, and yet others asked for salvation as they repented for their grievous sins upon God's wondrous universe. But Trensk didn't pray. He wouldn't pray to a God that made souls suffer in bondage, even if it was for their salvation. It wasn't the way to go in his eyes. He wouldn't pray to a God that had left him. But he still took the form of prayer, as prescribed in Scriptures. It helped him think. It grounded him to the real world, not some fantasy that took the hearts, minds, and souls of millions in the cluster.

So he took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled, letting his thoughts flow with it. In again, out like so. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat until empty. With each breath, he relaxed. With each repetition, he calmed, the memories and thoughts that stampeded through his head subsiding, fading back into his psyche, that ugly daemon sleeping once again, though with one eye open, ready to plague his sleep and his mind once more. He kept repeating, focusing solely on his breaths. In again, out like so. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat until empty. Again, and again, and again. He didn't want to remember. He didn't want to relive all of it. He didn't want to fight against his mind. So, in again, and out like so. Again. He focused on his breathing, something calm, rhythmic, simple. All things the body naturally loved to respond to. Calm was a state attained over time, as the body never worked quite immediately.

The memories faded, and his fatigue returned. He was but human, however modified as he was.

it was 0030, and Trensk couldn't sleep.

He finally stood, after a while, and stretched, returning the blood flow to his sleeping, still limbs. Tense, stretch, relax, bend, once through for each limb, each major muscle, everywhere. He about-faced, and stalked out of the room, quietly shutting the pressure hatch behind him. It was technically not a room normally accessible through most people's means, after all. Breaking and entering was one of Trensk's old specialties, anyways.

He walked back along the hab block, tracing back the old route from before. The park still had a few there, even at this time, mostly teenagers past their curfew and such. He ignored them. They weren't worth the trouble, or the time. Let them live, they wouldn't have these days for much longer.

Along the hab block, more lights were out this time around, his walk back quieter than the walk there. Many people were inside, sleeping with their wives, their husbands, significant others, boyfriends, girlfriends, and in-between. Let them enjoy it. The simple things in life are oft missed when they disappear.

His door, there it was, third corridor after the convenience store, fifth door on the left. He softly entered, his silent steps muffled by the clicking of the door's latches as it was shut behind him. He shuffled in, sticking his head into Elizabeth's room. A shock of red hair fanned out across the bed. Dead asleep, still. Wonderful.

He moved back into his room, shutting and locking his door behind him. Back over to the closet. Watch cap off, thrown on the top shelf inside. Jacket hung up, hangar lined up on the seams, zipped up a quarter way, just as usual. Trensk turned, gingerly stepping back over to the bed, and plopping down on it, yanking the blankets and covers back over him. He got cold easily.

it was 0100, and Trensk could sleep. 
Logged