Open Post 001

[2020mod]

• Step one: start a thread in this post!
• Step two: specify who the thread is for (or open) in this post!
• Step three: make people reply to this post!
• AND THAT'S THE WAY YOU DO IT.


And don't forget, there's still the ooc discussion post! And nothing needs to be contained to this post! Create new logs to your heart's content! This AU is yours, so have at it!


musebox • rules • character list

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[viced]

He had a sad smile for his former bodyguard, shaking his head, the offer was tempting. He didn't know if James knew how easy it would be to say yes, to run away and ignore the turmoil from now on, leave it to later generations, and just finally grow old and stop.

A machine without a purpose didn't stay in good repair, though, and Mitchell had always been a machine at his heart. Driven, serving a purpose, and doing nothing but that purpose. That was the only way he knew how to live.

"I can't, James. If there's anyone to blame for this, all of this, it's me. I didn't do enough, I couldn't stop this, despite the work I did, and that means I didn't do enough. I wasn't just the Mayor of the City, I represented all of us. If anyone's going to stop this, it has to be me."

[doubleoohbaby]

An agitated huff escapes him, followed by an over-exaggerated eye roll and locking his gaze off to the side, away from Mitch, sullen in his approach to the whole idea.

"Don't give me that shit. You can't do all this alone. The resistance are doing their damned best in all of this but in the last five years, do you really feel you've changed a god damn thing? Leave it. We're a dying breed. We can fight from the comfort and safety of our homes, not hole ourselves away like some vermin. This isn't winning, Mitch!" The sweep of an arm around the cabin suggests just what 'this' he's referring to.

[viced]

God, he hated this. After everything he gave up, sometimes he wondered when it would stop. He pushed people away because this was exactly what he couldn't have, an emotional attachment to someone, because it fucking hurt when he had to tell them no. Even ten years later, he still thought of James Bond as his bodyguard, probably more than others, but he couldn't think about that right now. No, he didn't have the emotional energy anymore to muster more than a detached, momentary thought to his life back home. Was it still frozen? When he finally died, would he go back, only 42 years old, and all of this a nightmare he wouldn't remember over the interference of his own brain trying to convince him to be someone else? Or was his world razed and burned already? Time finally moving, and him not there to save it?

"It might not be winning, but at least it keeps me safe until I can win! I might have not done much yet, but you'd be surprised how much polling numbers have changed, how much I've done hinges on how nasty the resistance gets! I'm giving us hope that there are natives out there who still fucking like us! And there are! That's just as important right now!"