station: hatch [ It's a lot of feelings for someone who's spent most of his life running from them.
For the first few seconds after he opens his eyes, Joshua doesn't move. It's paralyzing; he isn't sure what's his and what isn't and it probably doesn't matter, because he's not sure how to handle any of them -
He promised Estelle he was done running, but he can't help it. He has exactly two coping mechanisms he can rely on, and one of them - her - isn't an option.
So he flips the switch.
And then he starts moving a lot faster, as his priorities start lining up in the most logical order he sees them. Get up. Get out of the pod. Get armed. But as he checks in the cubby and pulls out knives, smoke bombs, sleeping drugs - his hand brushes something else behind them, and for a few long seconds (too long, he shouldn't be wasting time) he's standing there staring at a harmonica and a letter in his hands, before he snaps out of it and pockets them both.
The next order of business is clear enough, even if the path to accomplish them is less so. Find someone. Get answers. Whoever they are, they went to some trouble to get him here alive and in one piece. He's not going to trust it to blind altruism. Things don't work that way.
(Except when they do, and they did, and he was eleven years old and waking up in Cassius Bright's house wondering why he wasn't dead, and nobody had a better answer for him than "things just worked out that way.")
Things don't work that way. There's a purpose to his being here, and when he hears (feels?) the voice coming from the garden -
Well, now he knows where his next stop should be. ]
hyrypia: just chillin' [ Joshua's not silent on the trip over, exactly, but he's not particularly forthcoming, either; he speaks when he's spoken to or when he's seeking information, and he gets straight to the point in either case.
He's much the same when the new arrivals begin to integrate themselves with the hosts already on-site; if he approaches to ask you a question, it's direct, to the point, and he doesn't follow conversational tangents very far before he gets back to the matter at hand.
And when he's not seeking information, he mostly stays away. Sometimes the beach, sometimes the orchard, anywhere he has a hope of finding some mental quiet.
His mental presence doesn't draw much attention to itself, seeming calm and even enough at a glance...although anyone who brushes a bit closer won't have to look very hard to find the chaos under that icy veneer.
He's having a hard enough time trying to ignore his own feelings, thank you very much. He doesn't need to get anyone else's tangled up in there. ]
wildcard? [ I am open to all kinds of shenanigans. If you're not sure something will work, prod me and we can talk, but if you wanna just throw me a curveball I'm game for rolling with it! c: ]
joshua bright | COME AT ME, BRO.
[ It's a lot of feelings for someone who's spent most of his life running from them.
For the first few seconds after he opens his eyes, Joshua doesn't move. It's paralyzing; he isn't sure what's his and what isn't and it probably doesn't matter, because he's not sure how to handle any of them -
He promised Estelle he was done running, but he can't help it. He has exactly two coping mechanisms he can rely on, and one of them - her - isn't an option.
So he flips the switch.
And then he starts moving a lot faster, as his priorities start lining up in the most logical order he sees them. Get up. Get out of the pod. Get armed. But as he checks in the cubby and pulls out knives, smoke bombs, sleeping drugs - his hand brushes something else behind them, and for a few long seconds (too long, he shouldn't be wasting time) he's standing there staring at a harmonica and a letter in his hands, before he snaps out of it and pockets them both.
The next order of business is clear enough, even if the path to accomplish them is less so. Find someone. Get answers. Whoever they are, they went to some trouble to get him here alive and in one piece. He's not going to trust it to blind altruism. Things don't work that way.
(Except when they do, and they did, and he was eleven years old and waking up in Cassius Bright's house wondering why he wasn't dead, and nobody had a better answer for him than "things just worked out that way.")
Things don't work that way. There's a purpose to his being here, and when he hears (feels?) the voice coming from the garden -
Well, now he knows where his next stop should be. ]
hyrypia: just chillin'
[ Joshua's not silent on the trip over, exactly, but he's not particularly forthcoming, either; he speaks when he's spoken to or when he's seeking information, and he gets straight to the point in either case.
He's much the same when the new arrivals begin to integrate themselves with the hosts already on-site; if he approaches to ask you a question, it's direct, to the point, and he doesn't follow conversational tangents very far before he gets back to the matter at hand.
And when he's not seeking information, he mostly stays away. Sometimes the beach, sometimes the orchard, anywhere he has a hope of finding some mental quiet.
His mental presence doesn't draw much attention to itself, seeming calm and even enough at a glance...although anyone who brushes a bit closer won't have to look very hard to find the chaos under that icy veneer.
He's having a hard enough time trying to ignore his own feelings, thank you very much. He doesn't need to get anyone else's tangled up in there. ]
wildcard?
[ I am open to all kinds of shenanigans. If you're not sure something will work, prod me and we can talk, but if you wanna just throw me a curveball I'm game for rolling with it! c: ]