edgar_sawtelle (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
edgar_sawtelle) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
bigapplesauce2013-04-12 10:34 pm
edgar_sawtelle) wrote in bigapplesauce2013-04-12 10:34 pm
Business as Usual
Edgar doesn't realize anything is wrong at first.
He's been spending a lot of time in the base, and when he wakes up early that morning he has already decided to get out into the park for a while. It's barely light out when he leaves, and he doesn't pass anyone in the hallways. It's cold, so the park is empty too, aside from the few dedicated joggers here and there. But they stick to the paths and Edgar prefers to lose himself in the wooded areas. If he doesn't think about it too much, he can almost believe he's back home there.
Edgar sits on a stump and watches the sun rise while Almondine trots around, smelling every tree she can find and darting after things Edgar can't see. The sun is caught in the tops of the trees when she finally struts over to him, looking very satisfied with herself. He smiles and stands, clapping a hand to his leg to call her on as he heads back to the base.
It's once they're back in their quarters that Edgar realizes something's amiss. Having filled Almondine's water dish, he sits on his bed and grabs one of the books he's borrowed from the library from the table by the bed. He opens the book to where he had marked his place with a folded piece of paper and settles in to read a little before a late breakfast.
It takes him a few seconds to realize that he can't read what's written in the book. Frowning, he flips through the pages. They're all written in some sort of gibberish. He checks the spine to be sure it's the same book he was reading before, but there's no help there; whatever's written on the spine is just as unintelligible. Slightly concerned, Edgar checks the other two books he borrowed. They're also indecipherable, as is the small stack of scrap paper - used for communicating - he's collected over his time on the base, and everything in the small notebook he's been using as a sort of journal.
Almondine can clearly sense his growing confusion and she noses his arm. Edgar strokes her head, then signs to her: /I can't read./ Or he tries to. But the shapes his hands form don't make any sense, the motions they follow meaning nothing to him.
Edgar stares at his hands as if they belong to a stranger. He can feel his breath quickening, panic rising inside him, and he isn't sure whether he's going to collapse into the desk chair or start running.
He clasps his hands together so hard they hurt.
He's been spending a lot of time in the base, and when he wakes up early that morning he has already decided to get out into the park for a while. It's barely light out when he leaves, and he doesn't pass anyone in the hallways. It's cold, so the park is empty too, aside from the few dedicated joggers here and there. But they stick to the paths and Edgar prefers to lose himself in the wooded areas. If he doesn't think about it too much, he can almost believe he's back home there.
Edgar sits on a stump and watches the sun rise while Almondine trots around, smelling every tree she can find and darting after things Edgar can't see. The sun is caught in the tops of the trees when she finally struts over to him, looking very satisfied with herself. He smiles and stands, clapping a hand to his leg to call her on as he heads back to the base.
It's once they're back in their quarters that Edgar realizes something's amiss. Having filled Almondine's water dish, he sits on his bed and grabs one of the books he's borrowed from the library from the table by the bed. He opens the book to where he had marked his place with a folded piece of paper and settles in to read a little before a late breakfast.
It takes him a few seconds to realize that he can't read what's written in the book. Frowning, he flips through the pages. They're all written in some sort of gibberish. He checks the spine to be sure it's the same book he was reading before, but there's no help there; whatever's written on the spine is just as unintelligible. Slightly concerned, Edgar checks the other two books he borrowed. They're also indecipherable, as is the small stack of scrap paper - used for communicating - he's collected over his time on the base, and everything in the small notebook he's been using as a sort of journal.
Almondine can clearly sense his growing confusion and she noses his arm. Edgar strokes her head, then signs to her: /I can't read./ Or he tries to. But the shapes his hands form don't make any sense, the motions they follow meaning nothing to him.
Edgar stares at his hands as if they belong to a stranger. He can feel his breath quickening, panic rising inside him, and he isn't sure whether he's going to collapse into the desk chair or start running.
He clasps his hands together so hard they hurt.