Chyler Silva (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
childofaxios) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
riverviewlogs2018-08-11 12:52 am
childofaxios) wrote in riverviewlogs2018-08-11 12:52 am
I'm taking it slow,
who: Chyler Silva and Cameron Waltz
what: A CHANCE ENCOUNTER!
when: Near the end of the River Festival
where: The roof of the communal housing building + elsewhere probably
warnings: PTSD and discussion thereof
[ By and large, Chyler has kept herself busy since that anonymous conversation on the network, with that man with his nice suit and his assumptions. She's got plenty to occupy herself, not the least of which is getting John out of his apartment and out to the beach with her and with Finn. Those days are fun, chasing Dom up and down across the sand and trying (failing) to beat John in water fights.
But she's looked at the network conversation several times since having it. Read it over, tried to see if there was anything in it to give her identity away. She hasn't heard from that man, Cameron Waltz, she hasn't heard from him directly. No one has come to the doors of RR-1 and informed John that Chyler has to be removed from her post for the safety of civilians and her fellow soldiers.
She hasn't told John about it. Hasn't told him about the accusation of PTSD. She doesn't want to know what he'd say.
More than anything, she wants to prove Cameron Waltz wrong.
The idea comes to her during the first night of fireworks, when she ends up tucked under her bed with Dom tight against her side, weeping into his fur. Training. Just another form of training.
The next weekend she sits below her open window as the fireworks crackle and flash over Riverview's skyline, Dom still held close. He doesn't seem scared, but he doesn't leave her side, either. Not for a moment.
She spends the third weekend that way, too. Sitting where she can see the flashes and hear the crackboom and the whistles and the more elaborate noises of the higher-tech fireworks. She's shaking by the end, but there are no tears.
The last weekend of the month she joins the crowd on the communal housing building's roof. She has Dom with her. She's at the railing, gripping it tight, eyes locked on the sky, thinking the lines of Forward Unto Dawn to herself over and over again through the show. Dom whines and presses close against her thigh, but she can't seem to uncurl her fingers from around the railing.
She can do this.
Purple and green streaks through the night.
She can do this.
The reek of blood, shit, intestines.
She can--
Chyler pukes over the edge of the building.
At least the wind doesn't carry it back to hit any of the partygoers. ]
what: A CHANCE ENCOUNTER!
when: Near the end of the River Festival
where: The roof of the communal housing building + elsewhere probably
warnings: PTSD and discussion thereof
[ By and large, Chyler has kept herself busy since that anonymous conversation on the network, with that man with his nice suit and his assumptions. She's got plenty to occupy herself, not the least of which is getting John out of his apartment and out to the beach with her and with Finn. Those days are fun, chasing Dom up and down across the sand and trying (failing) to beat John in water fights.
But she's looked at the network conversation several times since having it. Read it over, tried to see if there was anything in it to give her identity away. She hasn't heard from that man, Cameron Waltz, she hasn't heard from him directly. No one has come to the doors of RR-1 and informed John that Chyler has to be removed from her post for the safety of civilians and her fellow soldiers.
She hasn't told John about it. Hasn't told him about the accusation of PTSD. She doesn't want to know what he'd say.
More than anything, she wants to prove Cameron Waltz wrong.
The idea comes to her during the first night of fireworks, when she ends up tucked under her bed with Dom tight against her side, weeping into his fur. Training. Just another form of training.
The next weekend she sits below her open window as the fireworks crackle and flash over Riverview's skyline, Dom still held close. He doesn't seem scared, but he doesn't leave her side, either. Not for a moment.
She spends the third weekend that way, too. Sitting where she can see the flashes and hear the crackboom and the whistles and the more elaborate noises of the higher-tech fireworks. She's shaking by the end, but there are no tears.
The last weekend of the month she joins the crowd on the communal housing building's roof. She has Dom with her. She's at the railing, gripping it tight, eyes locked on the sky, thinking the lines of Forward Unto Dawn to herself over and over again through the show. Dom whines and presses close against her thigh, but she can't seem to uncurl her fingers from around the railing.
She can do this.
Purple and green streaks through the night.
She can do this.
The reek of blood, shit, intestines.
She can--
Chyler pukes over the edge of the building.
At least the wind doesn't carry it back to hit any of the partygoers. ]