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revivalproject2021-05-05 02:10 pm
dr_riley) wrote in revivalproject2021-05-05 02:10 pm
Everything tragic, take it away
WHO: Open to all!
WHERE: The local high school
WHAT: Opening event catch-all, centering on a Very Special Guest coming to talk to the students. Anyone is welcome to assume that role! Senator, scientist, entrepreneur, superhero - whoever!
WHEN: Event start
WARNINGS: None as yet!
On a perfectly ordinary morning, in a perfectly ordinary city, a small, blonde-haired man with a pointed, delicate looking face and sharp blue eyes rose from his perfectly ordinary slumber. He did so before his alarm, which was also perfectly ordinary, as was the coffee he had at breakfast and the drive he took to work. His name was Drake Riley; he was the Principal of the School, and always had been.
“Good morning, Mr Riley.”
“Morning, Hannah.
“Fresh coffee in the lounge.”
“Already had some, thanks.” He sat at his desk in his office, looking through the papers in his in-box.
“We have a very important guest coming today.” Hannah called.
“Yes...coming to talk to the students. Can you have the cafeteria cleared and set up after second period?”
“Yes, Mr Riley.”
Later, as Drake waited for the students to begin transitioning from their classrooms to the cafeteria-turned-auditorium, his fingers absently tapped out patterns on the cafeteria menu of the week. There was pineapple today. Pineapple. 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, tapped his fingers. The Guest would be coming at 12:30. 1230, 1230, 1230, XMMU J1230. He shook his head and got up, “I think I'll have some of that coffee after all.”
“Rough morning?”
“Not as such, just seem to be distracted is all,” he said as he poured himself a cup.
“Probably just a little stress,” Hannah said, stapling together a pamphlet. “It isn't every day such an important person visits, after all.”
“No, I know. Probably all it is. I'll be outside to see the students in, all right?”
“Of course, Mr Riley.”
Mr Riley. He didn’t like that; it sounded strange just as much as it sounded perfectly ordinary.
WHERE: The local high school
WHAT: Opening event catch-all, centering on a Very Special Guest coming to talk to the students. Anyone is welcome to assume that role! Senator, scientist, entrepreneur, superhero - whoever!
WHEN: Event start
WARNINGS: None as yet!
On a perfectly ordinary morning, in a perfectly ordinary city, a small, blonde-haired man with a pointed, delicate looking face and sharp blue eyes rose from his perfectly ordinary slumber. He did so before his alarm, which was also perfectly ordinary, as was the coffee he had at breakfast and the drive he took to work. His name was Drake Riley; he was the Principal of the School, and always had been.
“Good morning, Mr Riley.”
“Morning, Hannah.
“Fresh coffee in the lounge.”
“Already had some, thanks.” He sat at his desk in his office, looking through the papers in his in-box.
“We have a very important guest coming today.” Hannah called.
“Yes...coming to talk to the students. Can you have the cafeteria cleared and set up after second period?”
“Yes, Mr Riley.”
Later, as Drake waited for the students to begin transitioning from their classrooms to the cafeteria-turned-auditorium, his fingers absently tapped out patterns on the cafeteria menu of the week. There was pineapple today. Pineapple. 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, tapped his fingers. The Guest would be coming at 12:30. 1230, 1230, 1230, XMMU J1230. He shook his head and got up, “I think I'll have some of that coffee after all.”
“Rough morning?”
“Not as such, just seem to be distracted is all,” he said as he poured himself a cup.
“Probably just a little stress,” Hannah said, stapling together a pamphlet. “It isn't every day such an important person visits, after all.”
“No, I know. Probably all it is. I'll be outside to see the students in, all right?”
“Of course, Mr Riley.”
Mr Riley. He didn’t like that; it sounded strange just as much as it sounded perfectly ordinary.
no subject
A woman that he didn't recognize, but somehow knew he loved, was stepping away from him. There must have been a fight, or cruel words, or a rejection, because he didn't think he could feel such unbearable pain as the vision caused.
Without knowing why, he moved as if to reach out to her but stopped himself.
"'Drea..."
There was far too much sadness packed into those two syllables than they had any right to contain, and Drake still had no idea who 'Drea was or why she evoked such disappointment.
"I- ... I'm sorry. I'm"
I'm not mad.
"...am I mad?"
oh no now I love these two even more why did you do that
Do you think if you save Catherine Martin's little girl, maybe they'll stop screaming, Clarice?
"Oh, God." She dragged a hand over her face, tried to stay cool, tried to be a professional. What would her predecessor have done? Shit house mouse, he would have turned around and walked the hell away, and God help her, a part of her wanted to do that too. But she wanted to know why their minds were behaving this way, and that might take time. She couldn't answer either of their questions in that moment. And in that, she saw her out. She saw it, and grasped it, and felt like a coward even though it was the proper thing to do.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Riley. I am. If you're mad so am I, but - I need to talk to some folks at SHIELD. See if they've gotten any similar reports. We can't jump to any conclusions, it would do more harm than good."
She reached into her pocket and took out her business card case, holding one out to him. Hopefully he would see it as a lifeline, not a dismissal. "I do have to go, but ... please. Keep in touch."
I'M SORRY I can't help it i love tragedy
Well, he wasn't, obviously. Thinking.
It was far too late for any sort of recovery, but although his stomach felt like it was filled with sodden tennis netting, Drake put on the only face he knew how to in difficult situations, anyway.
Be calm.
He gave a fortifying cough and a wide, sheepish grin.
Carry on.
"Of course! I am sorry to have kept you." He said, tucking the business card into a back pocket where it'd very likely go through the wash before he'd go searching for it in a blind panic after another 'episode.'
He could feel how against his nature it was to have a brave face securely fastened on, and yet how it was as familiar as putting on a comfortable old pair of shoes.
"I'll call if anything new happens." (The principal sucked in a deep breath) "At any rate," (and blew out as much pain and anxiety as he could, disguised as a sigh through pursed lips) "I'd better be getting back to the salt mine, myself. Cheers!"
And with a friendly wave and a practiced smile, he turned back to the doors to head inside.