A Day in the Life (locked to Trek_RP)
It had been easier to ignore what had happened when she was in Seattle. Her family had respected her request not to watch the news feeds when she was in the house so that she could enjoy her time at home without thinking about how close she’d come to losing everyone she cared about. Back at the Academy, it was impossible to continue that illusion.
The halls were too silent. The public spaces nearly deserted. When people did gather, there was an air of desperate false cheer that was worse than the shell shocked whispering that had accompanied their first days back on Earth. It was almost claustrophobic staying inside, listening for voices she would never hear again. Each day it got worse until she realized she would drive herself crazy if she focused solely on preparing for her upcoming post.
Grabbing her messenger back and art supplies, she headed for the quad. Finding her favorite sunny spot (depressingly deserted when it used to be overrun by people vying for the prime location) she sat down in the grass and pulled out her sketch book and markers. Opening the book to a blank page, she began laying out a sketch of the Bay, occasionally flipping to another page to work on a design that had been tugging at her consciousness for days.
The halls were too silent. The public spaces nearly deserted. When people did gather, there was an air of desperate false cheer that was worse than the shell shocked whispering that had accompanied their first days back on Earth. It was almost claustrophobic staying inside, listening for voices she would never hear again. Each day it got worse until she realized she would drive herself crazy if she focused solely on preparing for her upcoming post.
Grabbing her messenger back and art supplies, she headed for the quad. Finding her favorite sunny spot (depressingly deserted when it used to be overrun by people vying for the prime location) she sat down in the grass and pulled out her sketch book and markers. Opening the book to a blank page, she began laying out a sketch of the Bay, occasionally flipping to another page to work on a design that had been tugging at her consciousness for days.