Erik Lehnsherr (
exothermia) wrote in
driftfleet2016-11-04 07:57 pm
Entry tags:
[Closed]
Who: Erik, Charles and Raven
Broadcast: N/A
Action: a birthday on the Iskaulit
When: November 3rd
It was some time in the early morning, between fits of sleep, that Erik realised he was fifty-three. He had known it was coming for days, in the back of his mind, but it strikes him suddenly when he wakes from another unremembered dream and knows it must be nearly morning. The knowledge sinks into him like a stone, having broken the surface just as suddenly. It doesn't take long for the grief and loneliness to seize his heart again, always waiting for a moment to strike. He curls up under his blanket in the dark and wills himself to be silent, unseen.
His last birthday had been a happier affair. They were never grand or exuberant, but he didn't need or want them to be. Having a family to celebrate with was gift enough to Erik's mind. He vividly remembers the paper party hats Nina had made for the three of them to wear, the breakfast Magda had served up before he had to go to work. It was shocking to think he'd almost become used to it, after those initial few years where he hadn't been the most receptive to Magda's insistence that they do something. Even just a dinner.
Now he was to have his birthday in outer space, far from Earth and where his family lay beneath it. It was hardly worth acknowledging... just like all the years before they'd entered his life. His broken heart begs to differ, though, so he has to give it its due.
After a while, he wipes his face and gets up. Charles wants to spend time with him today, so he sets about having an early shower and shave (down to faint stubble, at the least). Another couple of hours listening to the terrible music the communicators have on offer, in the company of his fluff slug, was enough to settle his turbulent feelings into something manageable.
By the time Charles knocks on his door and they head to the Iskaulit, he's put himself back together.
Broadcast: N/A
Action: a birthday on the Iskaulit
When: November 3rd
It was some time in the early morning, between fits of sleep, that Erik realised he was fifty-three. He had known it was coming for days, in the back of his mind, but it strikes him suddenly when he wakes from another unremembered dream and knows it must be nearly morning. The knowledge sinks into him like a stone, having broken the surface just as suddenly. It doesn't take long for the grief and loneliness to seize his heart again, always waiting for a moment to strike. He curls up under his blanket in the dark and wills himself to be silent, unseen.
His last birthday had been a happier affair. They were never grand or exuberant, but he didn't need or want them to be. Having a family to celebrate with was gift enough to Erik's mind. He vividly remembers the paper party hats Nina had made for the three of them to wear, the breakfast Magda had served up before he had to go to work. It was shocking to think he'd almost become used to it, after those initial few years where he hadn't been the most receptive to Magda's insistence that they do something. Even just a dinner.
Now he was to have his birthday in outer space, far from Earth and where his family lay beneath it. It was hardly worth acknowledging... just like all the years before they'd entered his life. His broken heart begs to differ, though, so he has to give it its due.
After a while, he wipes his face and gets up. Charles wants to spend time with him today, so he sets about having an early shower and shave (down to faint stubble, at the least). Another couple of hours listening to the terrible music the communicators have on offer, in the company of his fluff slug, was enough to settle his turbulent feelings into something manageable.
By the time Charles knocks on his door and they head to the Iskaulit, he's put himself back together.

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Oh. Well good.
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[He remembers having to throw out more than one set of scones because the oven went too hot, too fast.]
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I don't know how often it gets used, honestly.
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Not that much anymore. The only time I've used it recently was to make challah last month. [The only time since coming back, at least.]
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[ He doesn't pay much attention to the oven though, so he shrugs nonchalantly. ]
Perhaps the kitchen can be upgraded.
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It has the highest upgrade level available. I looked it up once, years ago. [Months ago.] Other than making changes ourselves, there's no more to be gotten from the upgrade system.
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[ There's plenty of scrap and machinery down below. Perhaps it could be repurposed. ]
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He picks idly at the last of the cake, trying to remember what else was off about the kitchen the last time he'd used it.]
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The garden comes first for now.
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Yes, of course. Though I think we've gotten the base of it pretty well established.
[The three planters, the soil, and the plants to go in them.]
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[ He glances at the Iskaulit. ] I come here very often. I wonder how it came into place.
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[ He shrugs his shoulders. ] We all look for bright spots.
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[It's something he'd never thought of, until he'd spent long periods of time without. Even the camps, horrible as they had been, hadn't cut him off from the living world. And living so near the woods in Poland, even the gardens at the Institute, had soothed his heart when he needed it most.]
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I didn't when I was a teenager.
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[ Granted, Erik had other things on his mind. ]
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