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[forgetyourusedtobe]

[Since writing in her diary, Elena hasn't been able to touch it. She had taken to writing into it every day again after she turned her humanity back on. It's helped her keep herself afloat, express things that she knows she needs to so she never feels herself pushed back in the wrong direction again. But she's still feeling a little too empty and numb from Dean's departure. She's handling it better than she thought she would. But there's still just something so very important and essential missing now. She tells herself it will take time and she halfway believes herself.]

[Today, Elena is attempting to write in her diary. She's moved out from her room and is sitting on the deck with it. Her back is against the arm of one of the benches, knees brought close so she has something to write on. But all she's managed is the date. After a while, she closes it and lowers her legs, tucking the diary and her pen underneath them and instead decides to watch the sky above.]

[Eventually, she goes to the library and plucks out the copy of Pride and Prejudice she might as well just keep with how many times she's taken it off the shelf. She used to love it. Then she hated it. Now it was just something familiar and she was content enough to curl up with it in one of the chairs. She doesn't even bother to put it down once she gets hungry enough to make her way to the mess hall. Elena's senses are sharp enough that she can multitask reading and not crashing into anyone in the hallways. She takes her pint of blood substitute and makes her way back to her cabin. Elena's still not one to drink in front of other people if only because she knows it's probably off-putting and likely nauseating to them.]

Comments

[fireincarnate]

[Jean's on the deck pretty often, lately, staring at the stars. They don't make her feel small, any more.

Sometimes they make her feel hungry, and she'll avoid them for a few days.

Tonight's her first, since a moment like that. It's no coincidence, that she chose a time when someone else was there.

She smiles, when she approaches, soft and sincere.]

Diary, huh? I tried that, but it never stuck.

[warisart]

[Ben is especially vigilant during mealtimes when he isn't in any condition to be in the kitchens. Abigail is still there, so he positions himself amongst the tables and he watches the other passengers, and whether or not he's death tolling, Ben will still allow nothing to happen to her while he is still upright and aware.

As much as that hadn't helped on that other Barge, there it is.

And in turn, Elena is one of the people that Ben watches most closely; she is important to Abigail and, from what he can tell, one of the few people that actually has her best interests in mind. So he watches her not only because of her inherent influence over his inmate, but because he will support her if he can. He suspects, however, that whatever has had her wandering all over the Barge lately is not within his power to alleviate.

Nonetheless he follows her just outside of the dining hall, just away from the noise of inside but where he can still see through the doors, before trying to interrupt her. He's halfway through his own death toll so he is still pale and fatigued, his chest still aches where the shot that killed him ripped through, but his constitution keeps him upright and more or less unflinching.]

Hello, Elena.

[lastrat]

[He watches her, for a bit, leaning against the frame of the door to the decks below. There isn't much to spend his time on, without an inmate - without one that counts, anyway, and this is probably something he ought to work on, and almost certainly something he won't. He runs in the CES, he drinks in his room or the pub, he works out in the gym, he occasionally wanders the library and stands on the deck to stare at the stars and reassert his minuscule position in the universe in his own mind.

He only watches long enough to see that she isn't writing. When she closes the diary, he pushes away from the door and heads her way, folding himself down on the other side of the bench. His hands settle in his lap, fingers laced loosely. Everything about his body language is careless, at least on the surface. There's always an alertness lurking beneath.]

I think JD Salinger actually wrote in his journals.

[versusnurture]

[Abigail is in the library, looking for . . . something. She doesn't know what. But everything she's been reading lately seems dull now, disconnected and disjointed. Poetry frustrates her, and biographies have never exactly been her thing.]

[She comes in as Elena's coming out, sees what's in her hands, and gives a shy, if slightly awkward, smile.]

That again?