Ronan Lynch [Before] (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
beochaoineadh) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
revivalproject2021-09-28 01:05 am
beochaoineadh) wrote in revivalproject2021-09-28 01:05 am
if you must fight, fight with yourself and your thoughts in the night
WHO: Ronan Lynch & Whoever~
WHERE: Around Temba
WHAT: general shenanigans
WHEN: Late September into October
WARNINGS: None?
i. the deep end
[ A bar is the obvious place to go when your mind's fuzzy with all sorts of thoughts and feelings that Ronan is bad at putting into words; if anything he's worse at it as he gets older. He stops by semi-frequently, though usually it's to watch the karaoke. Tonight, he just needed someplace to be that wasn't the theater and wasn't alone, telling his thoughts to the trees like the odd creature he was. Back home he'd have dragged Gansey to the back fields with a six pack of beer, and they'd have laughed and he'd have listened to him talk about Glendower just for the comfort of the sound of his voice. And when the stars lit the sky, and fireflies pulsed green and gold in streaks both short and long like morse code he couldn't be bothered to decode.. maybe then he'd have found the words to tell him about how he was feeling.
But Gansey isn't here, and he's glad for it in the moments where he isn't feeling selfish. What would he do in this place, unable to search for his dead king or his ley lines, his ghosts or black dogs? Ronan did miss him terribly some nights, though.
So instead he's at the Deep End with his second beer in his fingers and a moody sort of frown curling his mouth as he trails a finger through the condensation. But he does look around every now and then, hopeful for a face he recognizes -- he could use the company, honestly. Not because he wants someone to talk to about what's gotten under his skin, but because he's hoping for a distraction. If there is someone he's seen before, they'll get a wave of his free hand, and a smile that's a little half-hearted, or sit close to him at the bar and he'll look them over with a greeting and a tilt of his beer.
Ronan does look a little young to be drinking by most rule sets though, if anyone is inclined to comment on it. ]
ii. blue-3; the theater
[ Ronan is rather fond of the theater that he's been sharing with Kavinsky more or less since he arrived in this place. Jack is curled up a few yards away, either napping or watching the dark-haired boy as he works. They've been renovating the place since they moved in, of course. The most obvious are the lights that float around the exterior, only really visible at night. Like fireflies but without the creature attached -- just light. At the moment he seems almost frustrated, though less with his current project- something involving flowers?- and more something internal, judging by how he seems fairly lost in thought. Which is maybe not the best idea when standing on the roof of the theater admittedly, but he seems to be handling himself just fine. So far, anyway.
There's a small blue bloom in his hands, and when he places it, vines crawl down the side of the building, and for a moment Ronan grins, before his face falls and he shakes his head, dragging fingers through his hair as his sharp blue eyes look off toward the sunset. He hasn't been avoiding Kavinsky or anything like that -- it'd be hard anyway, considering that they live together and all of that. But he's been a little bit awkward recently. He has feelings and he doesn't really know what to do with them, so instead he's out here, sitting on the edge of the roof with a sigh. He doesn't look up or notice that he's not alone until Jack barks, and then he looks up a little bit awkwardly, a wave of his fingers.]
Oh, hey.
iii. civic center
[ He's been spending a bit more time at the civic center than usual lately.
What he really wants is a fucking punching bag. And honestly, he really could just dream one, but instead he settles for doing laps of the obstacle course, pushing himself until his hair sticks to his forehead and he's fighting for breath. Catch him afterwards, leaning against the wall as he sips at his water. His emotions are still a mess, of course, but the physicality at least distracts him from thinking about things for a while. And that's something, at least.
He looks around, hoping to catch a glimpse of someone in the dojo or who otherwise looks like some sort of fighter. Because just exercising isn't really enough to clear his head. He'll walk over, a slight nod of his head in quiet acknowledgement. ]
You wanna spar a few rounds?
iv. wildcard
[ choose your own adventure with a moody teenager ;) but no in seriousness toss me whatever and I'll run with it. PM or hit me up at safeaslife#0150 if you want to work out something specific! ]
WHERE: Around Temba
WHAT: general shenanigans
WHEN: Late September into October
WARNINGS: None?
i. the deep end
[ A bar is the obvious place to go when your mind's fuzzy with all sorts of thoughts and feelings that Ronan is bad at putting into words; if anything he's worse at it as he gets older. He stops by semi-frequently, though usually it's to watch the karaoke. Tonight, he just needed someplace to be that wasn't the theater and wasn't alone, telling his thoughts to the trees like the odd creature he was. Back home he'd have dragged Gansey to the back fields with a six pack of beer, and they'd have laughed and he'd have listened to him talk about Glendower just for the comfort of the sound of his voice. And when the stars lit the sky, and fireflies pulsed green and gold in streaks both short and long like morse code he couldn't be bothered to decode.. maybe then he'd have found the words to tell him about how he was feeling.
But Gansey isn't here, and he's glad for it in the moments where he isn't feeling selfish. What would he do in this place, unable to search for his dead king or his ley lines, his ghosts or black dogs? Ronan did miss him terribly some nights, though.
So instead he's at the Deep End with his second beer in his fingers and a moody sort of frown curling his mouth as he trails a finger through the condensation. But he does look around every now and then, hopeful for a face he recognizes -- he could use the company, honestly. Not because he wants someone to talk to about what's gotten under his skin, but because he's hoping for a distraction. If there is someone he's seen before, they'll get a wave of his free hand, and a smile that's a little half-hearted, or sit close to him at the bar and he'll look them over with a greeting and a tilt of his beer.
Ronan does look a little young to be drinking by most rule sets though, if anyone is inclined to comment on it. ]
ii. blue-3; the theater
[ Ronan is rather fond of the theater that he's been sharing with Kavinsky more or less since he arrived in this place. Jack is curled up a few yards away, either napping or watching the dark-haired boy as he works. They've been renovating the place since they moved in, of course. The most obvious are the lights that float around the exterior, only really visible at night. Like fireflies but without the creature attached -- just light. At the moment he seems almost frustrated, though less with his current project- something involving flowers?- and more something internal, judging by how he seems fairly lost in thought. Which is maybe not the best idea when standing on the roof of the theater admittedly, but he seems to be handling himself just fine. So far, anyway.
There's a small blue bloom in his hands, and when he places it, vines crawl down the side of the building, and for a moment Ronan grins, before his face falls and he shakes his head, dragging fingers through his hair as his sharp blue eyes look off toward the sunset. He hasn't been avoiding Kavinsky or anything like that -- it'd be hard anyway, considering that they live together and all of that. But he's been a little bit awkward recently. He has feelings and he doesn't really know what to do with them, so instead he's out here, sitting on the edge of the roof with a sigh. He doesn't look up or notice that he's not alone until Jack barks, and then he looks up a little bit awkwardly, a wave of his fingers.]
Oh, hey.
iii. civic center
[ He's been spending a bit more time at the civic center than usual lately.
What he really wants is a fucking punching bag. And honestly, he really could just dream one, but instead he settles for doing laps of the obstacle course, pushing himself until his hair sticks to his forehead and he's fighting for breath. Catch him afterwards, leaning against the wall as he sips at his water. His emotions are still a mess, of course, but the physicality at least distracts him from thinking about things for a while. And that's something, at least.
He looks around, hoping to catch a glimpse of someone in the dojo or who otherwise looks like some sort of fighter. Because just exercising isn't really enough to clear his head. He'll walk over, a slight nod of his head in quiet acknowledgement. ]
You wanna spar a few rounds?
iv. wildcard
[ choose your own adventure with a moody teenager ;) but no in seriousness toss me whatever and I'll run with it. PM or hit me up at safeaslife#0150 if you want to work out something specific! ]