Selkie Cove, Sunday, Midday

[withoutverona]

It was time to leave.

Five words, Romeo mused, but packed full of so much. He'd be out of the apartment by the end of the weekend, in Hawaii the next day, and back to Verona to begin work in his father's company a matter of days after that.

He did not know if he'd be back. He liked teaching and had come to love Fandom, but the life he saw ahead of him was that of a Montague in Verona, with his (third, perhaps, but also final) bride by his side.

Most of his friends were long gone from the island. Romeo's last goodbye was to a place. He took himself and a notebook to the beach, perched on a rock, and -- as he had so many times -- began to scribble his thoughts as he watched the waves roll in and out.

[OOC: Open. Last public post for Romeo.]

The Beach, Early Sunday Morning

[not_a_whiner]

Find a way to let it all out.

Easier said than done. Where should he go? Up, to Vancouver-- see the graves that didn't hold bodies, talk to them like they were... like they were people? No. And going to the Normandy crash site wasn't an option-- too far out of everyone's way, and the Alliance wasn't going to lend him a ship just to put his personal ghosts to rest.

By early morning of the next day... of Sunday, Kaidan had made his call. The beach, a place of no more or no less significance than anywhere else. Early, so the kids wouldn't be out here yet. And... that was it, really. Better this way: no theatrics, no dramatics.

( Could've done this in his room... but then he wouldn't have felt the wind in his hair. )

The biotics stayed with him for a while, muscles flexing and ready to go. But eventually, the blue glow of dark energy residue burning off his body dimmed, and he was left standing there. Alone.

[[ but post is open for anyone who might be around, including myself... ETA: self-thread with Liara comes last chronologically, la ]]

Wellspring Arms & Meditation Center, Sunday

[firstnameagent.livejournal.com]

Coulson needed to take a day off last Sunday. For classified reasons. Now, he wasn't the kind of person who would normally take a day off and especially not from a job where, if he wanted, he could make his shift be about sitting still very quietly. But it happened, so it was what it was.

Today, he was in the meditation room, sitting still very quietly. For work.

Caritas, Sunday Evening

[onepunchguy.livejournal.com]

Tino, it seemed, was still trying to woo the barista at the Perk. But now he'd moved onto rewriting song lyrics so that they applied to them.

"I really don't think Every Breath You Take is a good idea," Guy informed him. But Tino ignored that.

Because some people just don't realize how creepy that song is.