ArchivedLogs:Vignette - (w)Reck(less/ed)

Vignette - (w)Reck(less/ed)
Dramatis Personae Rasa	2013-06-04 (Part of Them! TP)
Location <XS> Rasa and Shelby's Dorm - FL2
The last final has been taken. The last project turned in. All portfolios are accounted for. There's nothing left to do. The school year, aside from some formalities, like commencement and grading, is over. Majority of the school is rejoicing at the acquisition of some hard earned free time. Other students have other things on their minds. The clock keeps ticking by for Rasa. Ze is in hir room, in hir bed, watching the alarm clock tell the time. Midnight disappears first, followed by one am, then two. Some time around two thirty, the young metamorph slips out from under hir covers and moves with practiced steps from hir bed to hir desk, turning on the small lap light, glancing over at hir roommate, hoping the light doesn't bother her. Hir laptop is booted up, and while it slowly awakens, ze takes a leather bound journal out of a drawer, opening it up to where the ribbon marks the last date. Ze hasn't written in it since ze arrived at school. Rasa turns over to a new page and selects a pen, inking in today's date and then moving to the left hand side of the page, pausing and glancing at the computer. It's been four days. Ivan is still gone. There have been no new leads that I know of. People are investigating the large bugs, but ... I'm sure they would tell me if they found something out. Rasa turns back to hir computer, entering in hir password and loading up the email program. Ze starts typing an email Fingers clack furiously against the keyboard for a few minutes, then ze stops. Ze opens another new message window, addressing it to some one else, using fewer words to explain the situation. Ze then picks up hir pen as ze stares at the computer, the messages side by side. FROM: rdjalili@xavier.edu TO: jwalters@xavier.edu SUBJECT: Help needed Dear Professor Walters: Creatures I can't really describe have taken Ivan. Speculation at this point is that it was giant bugs, like the ones from the sink hole disaster in New Jersey. The school is using their vast resources to try and solve this problem. I can do nothing because I am too young. I don't even know if you are checking this email now that you are not at school. I don't know if you can help in this situation, but all I can do right now is ask for help, so I am asking. Please. Help? Rasa FROM: rdjalili@xavier.edu TO: nosborn@oscorp.com SUBJECT: Help needed Dear Mr. Osborn: Creatures have taken my Ivan. I don't know what to do. Please help. Rasa Fingers dig against hir scalp for a moment, scratching lightly as ze thinks over the messages. Ze instead bows hir head over hir journal and continues writing. I can do nothing. I feel useless. I want to run out and help, but I know that would be deemed reckless. I cannot be reckless again, not after what happened last time. I cannot be reckless without my Ivan to come back to. I am very tempted to ask people to be reckless for me, to really cause some things to happen, some things to change, but that wouldn't really help. So, instead, I remain useless. I don't know how long I can be useless. I already feel the walls closing in on me. I know I have all of the space on the campus to roam, but I don't want to leave my room. I feel trapped again and I don't know if I can look out the window, over the wall, at the great, large world, where Ivan is lost, and not feel completely lost myself. And trapped. and wrecked. Ivan, please be safe. I cannot help but imagine that bugs have already devoured you and I will never see you again. I miss you. Please come back. Rasa. Don't be reckless. Be good. You can do this. The young person takes a very deep breath and puts hir pen down. Ze closes the journal and slips it back into its drawer. Ze then closes each email, unsent, then puts the computer to sleep as ze closes it. Then, ze turns off the light. Rasa crawls back into bed in the dark, creeping back under the covers and pulling them tight around hir neck. This time, ze faces away from the clock, waiting for sleep or day to come.