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capeandcowllogs2011-01-07 07:50 pm
hoodalumnus.livejournal.com) wrote in capeandcowllogs2011-01-07 07:50 pm
Entry tags:
but you always hold your head up high;
WHO Parker Robbins.
WHAT: Solo log.
WHERE: Brooklyn.
WHEN: January 7th, 4PM.
SUMMARY: The prologue.
It was a hard fact, a feeling of hollow realization. He was probably never returning home. He’d never see his mom again, never know if her dementia would consume her, never hold Whitney. Never watch Bree grow up, he’d miss the entirety of his own daughter. Time ticked on by, clicking away his hopes with each moment. The others, they had returned home – even if they were pulled back again, like Electro. Like Ivy. But never Parker Robbins. He felt locked in this darkness, this unknown.
Parker shoved his gloved hands into the pockets of his parka, braving against the chill. He had left his cloak at home. It felt oddly heavy against his shoulders, ever since Mockingbird’s New Years party, like something in the fabric was weighing him down. The déjà vu sent shivers down his limbs. Drifting down, past the familiar brickwork Brooklyn apartment buildings, he glanced by a few windows. Televisions running, with their illuminating glow and chatter filling rooms. Kids kicking off their shoes as they eased into a new weekend, school already forgotten. It almost seemed natural.
Leaning against the outer fifth floor, the harsh chalk feel of brick rubbing against his back, he imagined what his baby girl would be like, now. What she would have been like, in the year and a half that passed by. A sour taste down his throat married the thought that someone, somewhere knew. Someone like Strange, or the Avengers, people displaced out of his time. That itched tugged at him, reminding him that he was just being humored, that people like him and Electro were outsiders, and they choose to be. Dark thoughts flooded his mind, cutting like knives, asking how long before this, too, ended? How long before he lost whatever he had now? Where was the control?
Seemed like the only thing collecting his mind was Misty. And if he lost that, like everything else —
But he had her, now, right? He had the girl, and her touch and words electrified his hours. His weeks. Parker pushed his hand into a back pocket, pulling out the communicator. A slow smile flooded his lips. His pulse caught a new beat, pumping quicker. He had her, and he wasn’t about to let that escape. The only thing that was making sense to him, and he was going to tell her, every day. Just to prove this was real.
“Hey, Misty.” Parker’s throat was dry, despite his casual grin. There was a sense of relief etched into his smile, a touch of knowing in his shivering hands. “I just wanted you to know, I mean. God, this was less awkward in my mind, like two minutes ago. Okay, so. What I wanted to say was, well. After everything, these past few months? No – let me, baby – I just wanted you to know, I think I love—“
His communicator clattered onto the hard cement surrounded by melting snow, alone and still.
WHAT: Solo log.
WHERE: Brooklyn.
WHEN: January 7th, 4PM.
SUMMARY: The prologue.
It was a hard fact, a feeling of hollow realization. He was probably never returning home. He’d never see his mom again, never know if her dementia would consume her, never hold Whitney. Never watch Bree grow up, he’d miss the entirety of his own daughter. Time ticked on by, clicking away his hopes with each moment. The others, they had returned home – even if they were pulled back again, like Electro. Like Ivy. But never Parker Robbins. He felt locked in this darkness, this unknown.
Parker shoved his gloved hands into the pockets of his parka, braving against the chill. He had left his cloak at home. It felt oddly heavy against his shoulders, ever since Mockingbird’s New Years party, like something in the fabric was weighing him down. The déjà vu sent shivers down his limbs. Drifting down, past the familiar brickwork Brooklyn apartment buildings, he glanced by a few windows. Televisions running, with their illuminating glow and chatter filling rooms. Kids kicking off their shoes as they eased into a new weekend, school already forgotten. It almost seemed natural.
Leaning against the outer fifth floor, the harsh chalk feel of brick rubbing against his back, he imagined what his baby girl would be like, now. What she would have been like, in the year and a half that passed by. A sour taste down his throat married the thought that someone, somewhere knew. Someone like Strange, or the Avengers, people displaced out of his time. That itched tugged at him, reminding him that he was just being humored, that people like him and Electro were outsiders, and they choose to be. Dark thoughts flooded his mind, cutting like knives, asking how long before this, too, ended? How long before he lost whatever he had now? Where was the control?
Seemed like the only thing collecting his mind was Misty. And if he lost that, like everything else —
But he had her, now, right? He had the girl, and her touch and words electrified his hours. His weeks. Parker pushed his hand into a back pocket, pulling out the communicator. A slow smile flooded his lips. His pulse caught a new beat, pumping quicker. He had her, and he wasn’t about to let that escape. The only thing that was making sense to him, and he was going to tell her, every day. Just to prove this was real.
“Hey, Misty.” Parker’s throat was dry, despite his casual grin. There was a sense of relief etched into his smile, a touch of knowing in his shivering hands. “I just wanted you to know, I mean. God, this was less awkward in my mind, like two minutes ago. Okay, so. What I wanted to say was, well. After everything, these past few months? No – let me, baby – I just wanted you to know, I think I love—“
His communicator clattered onto the hard cement surrounded by melting snow, alone and still.
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