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Post by OSKENÓN:TON on Jan 16, 2014 19:26:31 GMT -8
tagged: Moose time: May 15, 8PM. speech: Oskenón:ton. notes: - - -. Oskenon:ton sat there for several moments, phone gripped in one hand and hanging loosely over his knee. So there was some weird… what, time bending going on? His father had described something very similar to what Moose was saying, but falling through holes and ending up in different places wasn’t exactly an idea he was used to.
When all was thought through, he still didn’t know what to make of it. So he hadn’t just passed out cold for over a day, but had his younger self sort of fallen through a rift and come to the future? The very idea was absurd, yet Moose and his father had never met and they told similar stories. If that was his younger self, both physically and mentally, then where had he been that entire time? Floating in some far off void of time? Or sent back to the past? Why didn’t he remember anything, then?
He groaned, tossing his phone onto the nightstand before flopping back onto the bed. His head hurt from the thought of it, and he couldn’t quite wind his mind around it right away.
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Post by DARRIN "MOOSE" MOORE on Jan 18, 2014 17:08:29 GMT -8
The silence lingered, and it wasn't until Oskenonton tossed the phone away that Moose realized the call was over. He knew little about phones or phone etiquette, and his understanding of how they worked was childish at best. Until Oskenonton crawled away, essentially flopping back on the bed out of exhaustion, he hadn't been sure, and when he did he suddenly found himself worried.
Moose crawled over along the bed, reaching out to rest a hand on Oskenonton's arm. "Osk?" His voice sounded worried, unsure of what Oskenonton was thinking. Did he believe what his dad had said? Did he think Moose was trying to trick him or something? It was Moose's nature to expect people to think the worst of each other. He had spent most of his life in prison, where people frequently did. The worst was what you got when you were dealing with strangers in that sort of environment, and he'd gotten used to people expecting that sort of thing from him. "You... you okay?" He genuinely wasn't sure, and he disliked being so much in the dark.
OSKENÓN:TON | MAY 15, 8PM |
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Post by OSKENÓN:TON on Jan 20, 2014 17:33:25 GMT -8
tagged: Moose time: May 15, 8PM. speech: Oskenón:ton. notes: - - -. At that point, he didn’t know what to think. Even his mother, the most superstitious of the family, would’ve very likely given him an incredulous grin at the explanation. There was very little on time travel in native mythology; plenty on the comings and goings of seasons and various figures that controlled them, but nothing on going into the future in a dream. Apparently, his father had recalled that he’d said something of travelling to a strange room when he was young. There had to be something else to explain it, right?
Well, no. No there wasn’t. Nothing was within reasonable reach and he was almost entirely lost in his thoughts when he jumped a little at a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t even feel Moose crawling across the bed towards him, which was a surprise, considering his size and weight. The bed was a creaky old thing; he was expecting a groan of protest at the least.
”Yeah… Yeah, I’m fine.” He offered a small smile, but it looked tired no less and would be of little comfort. He knew it, at least, and he rolled over onto his back to stare at the ceiling for a second before his eyes went over to Moose. ”Just a little disoriented, that’s all.” He was trying to be relaxed, not too worried so he wouldn’t freak Moose out any more.
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Post by DARRIN "MOOSE" MOORE on Jan 21, 2014 10:40:19 GMT -8
He looked tired, but at least he looked less freaking out. He wasn't about to throw his arms up in the air or anything, and Moose took the time to slowly sink back, trying to give Oskenonton a reassuring smile.
Was it that alarming, to suddenly not understand the world? Moose always felt like that. Nothing ever made sense to him, and he'd simply gotten used to it. He was either never disoriented, or always so, depending on how you looked at it. "I know." And he did. He knew better then anyone how horrible it felt to be disoriented, and how horrible it was to not even know what you'd done--to have forgotten something that felt so important. He knew it better then Osk did even, and he sighed as he let himself lay back, staring up at the ceiling.
OSKENÓN:TON | MAY 15, 8PM |
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Post by OSKENÓN:TON on Jan 26, 2014 13:09:54 GMT -8
tagged: Moose time: May 15, 8PM. speech: Oskenón:ton. notes: - - -. Realistically speaking, he didn’t know where to go from where he was. He was entirely confused as to what could have possibly happened to him to make him travel into the future or whatever. And if he’d been replaced by his younger self, and his younger self had that memory, then why had his sleep been dreamless?
”I guess I’ll be alright. Sorry if I scared you.” It was his problem, and he didn’t want to freak out Moose with it. He wished he could have someone to talk to about it, though. Losing about a day, in his mind, was pretty scary business. Thankfully he didn’t have anything to attend that day and nobody to see, or else it’d be a real big worry. Were there any other dreams he’d had? Would it happen again?
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Post by DARRIN "MOOSE" MOORE on Jan 28, 2014 13:57:44 GMT -8
Had he been scared? He supposed he had been afraid in a way--afraid not by what was happening, but by what might happen. If Oskenonton hadn't gone back to normal, things would have ended badly. He hadn't felt horribly afraid at the time, but it had been the sort of fear that twisted in your gut, leaving you feeling vaguely ill at the end.
It was over then. There was nothing to be worried about, and the thought that it might happen again hadn't yet occurred to Moose--nor would it, unless someone else brought it up. He shifted on the bed, reaching over to rest a hand on Oskenonton's shoulder--a comforting gesture whose meaning was no doubt mostly lost due to the awkward positioning of it.
"You're still freaked out, aren't you?" No one calmed down so quickly in Moose's experience. It always lingered. "You can talk to me, I mean. Not good to bottle it all up." What else could he add to that? How could he possibly make him understand? "I mean, I haven't ever done the switching thing, but I know what it's like not rememberin' shit." Maybe that would help--he understood the part that Oskenonton had seemed more alarmed with.
OSKENÓN:TON | MAY 15, 8PM |
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Post by OSKENÓN:TON on Jan 31, 2014 6:52:38 GMT -8
tagged: Moose time: May 15, 8PM. speech: Oskenón:ton. notes: - - -. The hand on his shoulder didn’t give him too much comfort, though he could at least say someone was there and someone cared. Sort of. He didn’t know if Moose actually cared or if he was just as disoriented as he was. Of course he was still a little freaked out, or maybe a lot depending on what part of this disappearing act he was asking about.
Oskenon:ton made a vague, unintelligible sound in Moose’s direction, though he was still tired and confused as anything. ”Yeah, sort of hard not to be freaked out by something like this.” The memory part wasn’t too bad, but the part about him travelling to the future in a dream as a kid was.
”Yeah, I know, but it’s just…” He drifted for a second, before finally sitting up, crossing his legs and trying to calm down. Make some other talk, supposedly. Try and get his mind off of it. ”How did you lose your memory, anyways?” All he knew was the accident, nothing specific.
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Post by DARRIN "MOOSE" MOORE on Feb 1, 2014 17:14:19 GMT -8
It was a bit strange for Moose to talk about it. It was like talking about someone else, something you'd seen in a movie. It hadn't happened to him--it had happened to Darrin, someone who might as well have been another person. He let out a little grunt, withdrawing his hand as Oskenonton sat up.He crossed his legs under him, letting his hands rest in his lap.
"Dunno for sure, don't remember it. Apparently I was driving like a crazy person, and fucked up and ended up crashing. Car was in ribbons, my head was bleeding, face got this..." He paused to gesture at the cut across the center of his face.
"Whole thing is a hackjob because they didn't think I'd make it. No point wasting time making a pretty scar when they probably won't make it through the night. Accident scrambled my brains. Got showed a picture once of what my brain looks like. Big chunks of black that shouldn't be there, because the stuff it's made of is all dead." He was referring to the brain tissue--and to the fact that a decent amount of it had been irreparably damaged.
"Doctors were pretty clear on the whole thing by the time I recovered--I wasn't going to get those memories back. No miracle where I just wake up and remember anything before the accident. They didn't want anyone getting their hopes up." And by 'anyone', he meant himself--because there was no one else.
OSKENÓN:TON | MAY 15, 8PM |
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