our lady of fandom island; thursday morning

[flickofthewrist]

Flick couldn't remember the last time he'd been in a church. Maybe it'd been around the time Jude had died in an attempt to find solace somehow or maybe it had been longer than that. He didn't know and right now, it didn't matter. He wasn't there for him.

When he stepped inside, he took a moment to close his eyes, breathe deep, and let it out before moving again. He took careful, measured steps while he walked, not wanting to disturb anything or anyone who might be nearby or doing what you typically did inside a church.

Flick was there for one person. Well, two people, actually. In front of him was a large display of candles and, after a moment, he lit one in Max's memory. He remembered Isabelle telling him about their beliefs once and he figured this was the closest he'd come, without being in Idris, to mourning Isabelle's younger brother.

Once the candle was lit, Flick just stared at it for awhile. "I'm sorry for what happened to you, Max," he murmured very quietly. "I'm so sorry and I hope you're not scared wherever you are. If you are, look up my brother, okay? He'll help you out."

He tried to smile but it was strained before he turned away from the candles and took a seat in one of the pews. He'd just stay there for awhile and sit quietly. Seemed like a good plan.

[Open if anyone's in the church this early, sure]

The park, by the duck pond, Thursday late afternoon

[l1ttle-billy.livejournal.com]

For old time's sake, Billy had taken a trip to Fandom, almost specifically to meditate and do katas in the park.

The first place that Billy had ever felt safe, really safe, was ironically enough, Fandom. Well he thought it was ironic, considering the fact that when he'd first arrived he'd suspected it was a secret training post for terrorists or something. And the fact that you could pretty much count on something horrific happening at least once a year.

But it had been here that he'd been able to truly leave the life his father had created for him behind, and begin his own. Here that he'd learned of the possibilities of the future that had given him real hope.

And now he had begun his last year of Master's Study and had some big decisions to make, both for himself, and his children. So he had come here, where it had begun.

[Open for any and all.]

Book Haven, Thursday 9/11

[not-called-icky.livejournal.com]

Ichabod opened the bookshop, and after arranging a few new arrivals on a table he picked up one of the cookbooks that filled the display. Was is cookbook season? Whatever the reason, he found that there were more pictures in the book than actual recipies, but that every picture made him long for the meals at home. Not that there was any resemblance between the dishes in the book and what his father's cook made, other than looking tastier than anything he had managed to prepare himself.

[open bookshop]