lost with no direction [open]

[Sterling Wyatt Carlisle]

without a light i fear that i will stumble in the dark,
lay right down, decide not to go on

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: e8e8e8; width: 388px; padding-top: 2px; padding-bottom: 2px;] Finally. Finally. He felt safe to go outside on his own. After the previous weekends events he no longer felt like he had to hide inside his dormitory. Or well, Hayden's dorm. But still, it felt good to get outside, the sea air was good for him, or at least it felt like it was. He just had to ignore all the looks he was still getting despite having been in his chair for a while now, people still looked. It was still interesting to people apparently. But then really, he could see why it was. He had been the sportiest guy at the school, it was something he took incredibly seriously and now look at him. Stuck with wheels instead of legs and unable to walk let alone run. He could no longer do the things that he had been so passionate about. And that was what really hurt him the most. Without sport he had nothing and even though people told him that he was being stupid by thinking that, it was how he felt. That was the only thing he had truly excelled in. Beaten Hayden at. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to find anything else, let alone whether he actually good. He was okay at school, he passed, he got okay grades but he wouldn't get into Oxford with them. Theatre wasn't his thing and it wasn't like there were many wheelchair roles on stage either, musically he was okay but again, not enough to make a career out of it. He really had been quite content with running. And now he couldn't even do that rather simple thing. Even fat kids could run. But at least he was getting on with it, people wanted him to live and so he would. He couldn't say he was happy, far from it really. But he could fake it, or at least try to not to be so damn depressive in front of other people. Because others didn't like that apparently. At least he was getting on with it and was finally able to start to come to terms with what had happened to him. The confirmation that he was never going to walk again had actually helped him more than he thought it would. Even though he was gutted by the news at least there was no more waiting. No more wondering if it was going to get better and constantly being disappointed. This was it and he was being forced to deal with it. He had no other options then to get through this and although he knew he had friends, people who said they were there for him if he needed them. He had never felt so alone. Especially as he wheeled himself along the pier. He couldn't even go on the damn beach because of his stupid wheels. He'd pushed a lot of his friends away he noticed, he hadn't talked to most of them and those people he had he'd been nothing but horrible to. No wonder he didn't have many left. At least the alone time was helping to clear his head, not that he hadn't had plenty of time for that anyway. Still. Maybe this outing would do him some good...maybe. [style= font family: arial; font-size: 10.5px; text-align:center; letter-spacing: -1px; color: #000000; font-variant: small-caps; letter-spacing: 3px; padding-bottom: 8px;] tagged: open! | outfit: coming | notes: come one come all [/style]

[BRUCE RYAN MCKAYE]

[style=font-family: courier-new; font-size: 9px; line-height: 8px; letter-spacing: 2px; color:cdccca; text-align:center;]IF I COULD LEAVE THIS PLACE A MEMORY LOCKED UP WITH MY DARKEST SECRETS, I'D BE ALRIGHT, IT'S WHAT WE NEED

[/style]

[style=float:left;]

[style=font-family: tahoma; font-size: 9px; line-height: 10px; letter-spacing: 2px; color:403634;text-align:justify;]Bruce was still getting used to the luxuries of freedom. He could go out, anytime he wanted now, without worry that he might not make it back home by the end of the day. His biggest worries were... Nothing, really. He had nothing to worry about anymore, and it was the most liberating feeling in the world. He could have screamed, really; climbed out on top of the roof and yelled, until someone came up there and shut him up. He couldn't remember being this happy in his life, to be honest. And he had thought he'd feel awful. The week before the Four had gone out to end this reign of terror, Bruce had steeled himself for the worst. He'd prepared himself to lose one of his friends, prepared himself to come to terms with the fact that he could have been just as badly injured, if not killed, as well. But moreso, he prepared himself to deal with the aftermath, the truth that was that they, a bunch of teenagers, had just become monsters. Murderers. Except, Bruce didn't count himself, or Jake, or Hayden, or Chase, amongst the same as he counted the Killer. They weren't bent for revenge, they were protecting their own. They were defending their kind, keeping them from the same chains that were holding them back.

It was like Easton had breathed a huge sigh of relief.

Bruce didn't feel bad, either. Which he was relieved. He knew his disposition toward blaming himself, his habit of being guilty, and was glad when that was not the case. If anything he was exuberant, elated. He'd spent the week getting hammered, and when he'd come out of his alcohol-induced stupor, and paid the price of one massive hangover, he decided he would allow himself to enjoy this freedom. Bruce hadn't been out to the beach in what seemed like forever, and he'd always loved the place. He was a regular fish, and while the weather wasn't ripe for anything related to swimming just yet, he could always prepare himself for the dog days of summer. They were just around the bend, after all.

What he hadn't expected to prepare for, however, was Sterling. It wasn't exactly hard to pick out his figure against the dock. He'd never been hard to spot in a crowd, but now it was even more blatant. He jogged forward, the heavy smell of salt in his nose, and the warm air on his skin, and it just felt good. For once, everything just felt good. Bruce jogged around to the ramp that lead from the sand to the dock and climbed over the guardrail, the sound of his Chucks against the wooden planks filling the air as he jogged to a halt next to Sterling. Fuck, it even felt good to jog. He couldn't hold a pace like he could, before January, but his leg was getting better. He couldn't say the same for Sterling, though. But he didn't care. He was just too fucking happy to care. "Hey, fuckhead." He had called, just short of reaching Sterling. "Didn't expect to see you out here."

[/style]

TAGGED: donte&sterling OUTFIT: click NOTES: finally
LISTENING TO... death valley - fall out boy

[/style]

[style=font-family: courier-new; font-size: 9px; line-height: 8px; letter-spacing: 2px; color:cdccca; text-align:center;]SO COVER SINS WITH RHYTHMS BEATING, TELL THE ONES WHO ONCE RETREATED, WE KILLED THE BEAST, OH GOD, WE KILLED THE BEAST

[/style]

[Sterling Wyatt Carlisle]

without a light i fear that i will stumble in the dark,
lay right down, decide not to go on

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: e8e8e8; width: 388px; padding-top: 2px; padding-bottom: 2px;] He really was glad the killer was dead. Really. It was so much better than living in fear all the time. And everybody else was a lot happier, he could tell already things in Easton were going to change and for the better. The whole mood was different and even the buildings seemed like a lighter shade of grey. Which was great, really. For everybody else. But not for people like him and Lyss, they got a nice little permanent reminder of what had happened. Sure people had died, other people had been harmed, but they seemed to have been the ones to come out of it worst. And it was life changing. Lyss had lost an arm for Pete's sake. At least he could keep himself mildly amused with it all, consider one day possibly becoming bionic or the first half robot half man. He could buy himself fancy new wheelchairs, like the one he now had, with its sleeker tyres, carbon fibre structure and custom measurements. But really he didn't want all that, he didn't want to have to be picking out a new wheelchair or looking at which sit in shower seat was the best. He just wanted to be normal. To pick out trainers which were designed for running and actually be able to run in them, not just have them sit uselessly on his feet. He actually refused to wear any kind of sports footwear now. If he wasn't going to be able to use them for their designed purpose then he wasn't going to torture himself by wearing them. He was pulled from his thoughts when he saw a figure approaching out of the corner of his eye, taking his eyes off of the ground and looking up to see who it was. The mass of curly hair gave the Irish fucker away as soon as he focused his gaze on him. Ugh and he was jogging too. And jumping over things. He missed that, the smallest things. He missed walking up steps even. Sometimes he felt like he would give up all the days he had left in the wheelchair for just a few days of walking. Not even running, just walking, standing up, being tall again. Damn did he feel small down here, especially next to Bruce the lanky sod. The greeting was not out of the ordinary, at least coming from that lanky Irish git it wasn't. He figured it was more out of affection than anything else, well, as affectionate as Bruce could get. Sterling stopped in his tracks, putting the brakes on his chair to prevent him from rolling backwards or something. It had happened one too many times already. "Yeah well, I'm just full of surprises." He tried to keep the bitter tone out of his voice but it always seemed to creep in there somehow. It just seemed to be his voice nowadays. He took the breaks off and started to roll himself forwards again, presuming Bruce would follow. "Nice day for a jog. But its unlike you to be doing any voluntary exercise?" [style= font family: arial; font-size: 10.5px; text-align:center; letter-spacing: -1px; color: #000000; font-variant: small-caps; letter-spacing: 3px; padding-bottom: 8px;] tagged: dollie! | outfit: coming | notes: irish fucker sounds like a good drink [/style]

[BRUCE RYAN MCKAYE]

[style=font-family: courier-new; font-size: 9px; line-height: 8px; letter-spacing: 2px; color:cdccca; text-align:center;]IF I COULD LEAVE THIS PLACE A MEMORY LOCKED UP WITH MY DARKEST SECRETS, I'D BE ALRIGHT, IT'S WHAT WE NEED

[/style]

[style=float:left;]

[style=font-family: tahoma; font-size: 9px; line-height: 10px; letter-spacing: 2px; color:403634;text-align:justify;]"Hey, fuck off." Bruce swatted at the Carlisle, shaking his head at the jab about exercise. Bruce exercised plenty, it just usually happened to be his liver he was exercising. He went to the gym, not as often as he probably should, especially considering he had stopped in lieu of January, to favor physical therapy instead. Maybe now he'd start going back. He knew that voice though, knew those comments, the woe is me I'm in a wheelchair attitude that Sterling had adopted since the accident. Bruce rolled his eyes and walked over to the edge of the dock, where the rail was, and leaned over it. Every so often a breeze would kick up some mist from the sea, and it sort of reminded him of home, just a bit. He leaned against the bar and looked down over the edge, at the water. "Stop with the attitude and just enjoy the day, yeah?" He said, straightening up and turning, so he could face Sterling. He leaned his back against the banister as he watched the kid.

Kid. That was exactly what Sterling was. "Times are good for once, suck your bullshit up." He bumped his hip against the rail. He didn't want to stand still, and he didn't want to listen to Sterling twist his words into some sort of pity party, either. Not when the killer was dead, and they were free, and no one had to worry about that stuff anymore. Bruce had never been able to tolerate Sterling's behavior, since the accident. That shit drove him crazy, when people just wallowed. It might have been a little hypocritical, coming from him, after what had happened in January. But he had a reason, he had an excuse, and now he had a medicine cabinet full of medication to fix it. Sterling, though? Yeah his life was different now, yeah, things had changed, but he was so fuckin' sore about it that it drove Bruce all the way up the wall and halfway across the goddamn ceiling.

The Irish boy glanced at the other one, his green eyes narrowing. "How's Carlisle the Eld been doing?" He hadn't left his room in a week, it seemed. He'd just spent his time drinking, and convincing Posy to drink with him - when she would - and generally celebrating. In fact, today was the first time he'd even bothered exercising this new liberty they'd made for themselves. "So, enjoying the new freedom, eh? It's nice to actually go out." He snorted and shook his head, pressing the heels of his palms into the top of the banister to hoist himself up onto it, like a bird and a perch. He didn't give a fuck if it hurt Sterling's feelings, either. That bastard could suck it up. If he'd felt bad at first, that was long gone. It had dissipated over time, chased away by Sterling's growing grumpiness, just like most of the younger Carlisle's friends had. But that was the kind of shit that happened, when you were constantly turning nice things sour.

[/style]

TAGGED: donte&sterling OUTFIT: click NOTES: it does sound like a good drink
LISTENING TO... death valley - fall out boy

[/style]

[style=font-family: courier-new; font-size: 9px; line-height: 8px; letter-spacing: 2px; color:cdccca; text-align:center;]SO COVER SINS WITH RHYTHMS BEATING, TELL THE ONES WHO ONCE RETREATED, WE KILLED THE BEAST, OH GOD, WE KILLED THE BEAST

[/style]

[Sterling Wyatt Carlisle]

without a light i fear that i will stumble in the dark,
lay right down, decide not to go on

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: e8e8e8; width: 388px; padding-top: 2px; padding-bottom: 2px;] A growl escaped his throat when Bruce swatted him, his hands catching the back of his head, not hard but obviously still enough to annoy him slightly. It wasn't like he could retaliate or get out the way, not with his hands doing the job his legs should be. He was right though so he didn't see why he was getting told off for it exactly. He watched Bruce as he walked over to the railings before casting his eyes back down to the feet he could no longer feel. He noticed a lace was undone and bent down to tie it, not that it made a blind bit of difference anyway but still. He couldn't help but frown to himself when Bruce spoke, sitting back up when he'd done with his lace. Okay so, he guessed his attitude was coming off a little stronger than he thought it had been but then it was hard to tell the difference when you had become accustomed to it. He could no longer tell when he was being an ass to somebody. And if he did think he was being an ass to somebody then it must be really bad for him to notice it and was probably burning a bridge right there and then. He'd burnt a lot of bridges recently but the bad thing was, he didn't even notice he was doing it. He didn't realise what a complete and utter dick he was being seventy five percent of the time. Which was now why nobody was coming near him. Astrid had passed on seeing him recently, Lyss had agreed but he'd snarked at her when he realised he couldn't even walk his own dog and everybody else...well. There wasn't really many other people left. He felt he should probably get used to that. But dropping the heavy crap around Bruce was probably a good idea before he up and left him too. "Okay, okay." Sterling conceded, trying to rid himself of that tone he had grown so used to using. He played with his chair for a moment or so, rocking himself back and forwards, quite enjoying how smoothly it moved when compared to the old one he had had. It was just hard to be as happy as everybody else when he didn't feel like even being content. He'd lost the ability to be happy a long time ago now, back when Em had died. Just because the killer was dead it didn't mean it was game over and everything was restored. They were still left with the aftermath and the pieces that they had to pick up and glue back together. "He's being pretty well...taken care of, by a blonde obviously. Although I think there's something going on there." He couldn't think about girls right now and all the sex that he would never have, not if he was trying not to be miserable. He had plenty of reasons to be grumpy, all of them pretty damn legitimate in his eyes. But apparently it pissed other people off, so he would have to stop for their sakes. Glancing over at Bruce when he hoisted himself up on the barriers and spoke again he sighed and rolled over towards him before answering. He stopped in front of the railings and rested his arms on the middle pole before trying to peer over, straight down at the ocean soon realising it was just that bit out of reach and he dared not go any closer just in case. "Freedom, yeah, its good. Beats being inside all the time." Sterling pulled himself back a little, still with his arms leaning on the railings and looked out over the sea, beyond the horizon. Well at least he had stopped seeing dead people. [style= font family: arial; font-size: 10.5px; text-align:center; letter-spacing: -1px; color: #000000; font-variant: small-caps; letter-spacing: 3px; padding-bottom: 8px;] tagged: dollie! | outfit: coming | notes: i bet it already is one [/style]

[BRUCE RYAN MCKAYE]

[style=font-family: courier-new; font-size: 9px; line-height: 8px; letter-spacing: 2px; color:cdccca; text-align:center;]IF I COULD LEAVE THIS PLACE A MEMORY LOCKED UP WITH MY DARKEST SECRETS, I'D BE ALRIGHT, IT'S WHAT WE NEED

[/style]

[style=float:left;]

[style=font-family: tahoma; font-size: 9px; line-height: 10px; letter-spacing: 2px; color:403634;text-align:justify;]Bruce shifted as he watched Sterling, and resisted the urge to look smug when he agreed to cut the crap. Sterling had it rough, he did; Bruce knew that much. His time in the wheelchair hadn't been permanent, and he'd hated it. His attitude would be just as piss poor if it had been. However, that wasn't an excuse to make everyone else miserable, and Bruce wasn't about to stand around and let some little brat like Carlisle treat him like shit because he couldn't deal with what had happened. So when Sterling agreed to lighten up, even briefly, Bruce nodded and rolled his eyes. "Bout damn time."

Things were better. The damage had been done, sure, and there was the aftermath to clean up, but they had time to do that now. There was time to let the dust settle on the wreckage of their lives, and begin to sweep away the debris. Before there had been no time to do so, because the second they made any noticeable progress, there was another explosion and their work was for nothing. Now, though, now they could begin to heal. And that was what Easton needed; not just the Legacies, although he could argue they needed it the most, but everyone. There weren't any outstanding threats left, and life was, more or less, on the fast track to being back to normal. What had been normal, anyway, before all of this happened. But the battle scars were everywhere, reminders that this ordeal had been real, and that they had all been through hell. Alyssa's arm, Sterling's legs, Beth's burns, the scars that he, and Jake, and Hayden had accumulated, Chase's sanity. It was all blatant, all obvious. And then there were the ones that had started to fade, just a bit, but they were still there, too. People like Posy, and Thorton, who had been affected needlessly by the killer, dragged into a war that was not their own. There were the ones that had been affected second-hand, too, the families of the children who had died. It was a far way from perfect, but it was at least safe.

Bruce pivoted on the railing, turning out so he could face the sea and the horizon. It was nice out, the weather was picking up, getting ready for late spring and summer. Bruce didn't mind the cold so much, but he didn't like being cooped up, and cold weather had a habit of doing that. "Oh yeah?" He responded nonchalantly to Sterling's comment about the blonde. "Wouldn't be surprised if there was. He's piss poor at this bachelor thing. Although I guess I can't talk." He shrugged and watched the waves roll in, his fingers tapping against the rail. It was always there, the disease, it just manifested itself in smaller ways. The Lithium helped, but it made him hazy; they were still trying to work out medications, and while the doctors did that, he lived with the little things. Like the incessant finger tapping, or the leg jiggling, or the more positive outlets for the manic energy that he couldn't get rid of.

"Damn right, it does." He announced, rather loudly, when Sterling mentioned freedom. "I was gonna go fucking crazy staying inside all the goddamn time. Even you can't complain about that." He said, looking at the younger boy. It was obvious that he couldn't; Sterling had come out here on his own volition, had he not? Bruce scooted a little along the rail, and settled after a moment, swinging his legs as they dangled. The heels of his Chucks hit the rail below him. "Every goddamn cloud has got a fuckin' silver lining." He leaned forward again, looked at the distance from the pier to the water. Before long, it'd be warm enough to swim in the ocean, and he planned on doing just that. "So what the fuck are you doing out at a beach, anyway?"

[/style]

TAGGED: donte&sterling OUTFIT: click NOTES: sorry for the waittt
LISTENING TO... damned if i do ya damned if i dont - atl

[/style]

[style=font-family: courier-new; font-size: 9px; line-height: 8px; letter-spacing: 2px; color:cdccca; text-align:center;]SO COVER SINS WITH RHYTHMS BEATING, TELL THE ONES WHO ONCE RETREATED, WE KILLED THE BEAST, OH GOD, WE KILLED THE BEAST

[/style]

[Sterling Wyatt Carlisle]

without a light i fear that i will stumble in the dark,
lay right down, decide not to go on

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: e8e8e8; width: 388px; padding-top: 2px; padding-bottom: 2px;] He wanted to just get in the sea, despite the fact it would be cold. No, actually, he wanted to get in the sea because it would be cold, freezing in fact. Maybe if it was really cold he'd be able to sense it, maybe it would spark the nerves in his legs to reawaken and send a quick shock wave to his brain, telling him hypothermia would be on its way soon if he didn't get out. But really, he knew that wasn't going to happen. He just wanted to be able to feel something, anything, whether it was freezing cold, boiling hot or absolute agonising pain. He really didn't care what any more. He was getting almost desperate and it was just sad. Maybe he needed to get a hotter nurse to put his diaper on in the mornings, that might brighten his day. After all the current one kept patronising him about his choice of diaper pattern. He didn't think Spiderman was that bad. Ster glanced up at Bruce when he mentioned being a bachelor before focusing his gaze back on the horizon, watching the complete stillness where the ocean met the skyline. "I'm going to be the best fucking bachelor in this town." He stated with confidence, though more to himself than anything, because really, it was quite true. Nobody was going to be his girlfriend and he wasn't going to be anybody's boyfriend. Although bachelors were kind of meant to do the whole, sleeping around thing, but he would work with what he had. He wasn't committing to anything any more, he wouldn't allow himself to do so. He'd already lost Kirby as both a friend and something more. "Yeah. Crazy." Sterling stated absent-mindedly, for a moment not really listening to what Bruce had said. Or at least it hadn't quite gone in, he hoped he hadn't asked him anything because he wasn't going to be able to answer him. He had been much too lost in his thoughts to notice much else. And there wasn't much he could say to the silver lining comment, because he sure as fuck hadn't found his yet and anything he did say about it would only cause Bruce to accuse him of being all depressing again. So he just kept his mouth shut. At least he was learning when to keep his comments to himself. Raising an eyebrow he dragged his gave back to Bruce, sitting back up in his chair and reversing away from the rails a little. Why had he come? He didn't know why he had picked the beach the last time he had been to the beach was when he and Lyss had gone on the first date. Back when she had both her arms and when he could walk. That relationship had lasted a long time. Something had brought him here, but he really wasn't sure what. Ster shrugged his shoulders, his hands still placed on the rims of his wheels. "Fed up of hearing Hayden getting an anatomy lesson I guess." He said, glancing back down the promenade. "Forgot how far it was from Vid though." This was definitely the farthest he had gone on his own so far in his chair and even now he was unsure about making it back. He had definitely underestimated the distance. "You?" [style= font family: arial; font-size: 10.5px; text-align:center; letter-spacing: -1px; color: #000000; font-variant: small-caps; letter-spacing: 3px; padding-bottom: 8px;] tagged: dollie! | outfit: coming | notes: -rolls- ...no pun intended [/style]