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[For Ronan, Dated 8/20]
Aug. 16th, 2016 01:52 pmThe stars were different. Very different. How could the stars be so different? Laying in bed felt the same: he still had to crane his neck to the side to look out his window and he still found some strange comfort in losing sleep. It was a time for questions.
Were they on Earth? Darrow might have been Earth in the way that Cabeswater was in Gansey, which is to say by magic and devoid of logic. However, if Darrow was on Earth or even in the same galaxy, there would be a familiar shape in the sky. Orion, at least, one of Gansey's constant companions on his travels. Gansey was even more thankful that he had his friends with him, since Orion had abandoned him in his inter-dimensional journey. Since they couldn't leave, he could find a new Orion. Gansey wanted to know the stars in Darrow like he knew the ones at home.
That would have been easier with a telescope, but telescopes cost money and Gansey wasn't sure he had any left. He tried to only spend on bare essentials, but he was quickly learning that his idea of "bare essentials" was vastly different than many in Darrow. How much had he spent? He hadn't been keeping track. He hadn't kept his apartment so that meant he wouldn't have to pay for it, right? Who was he supposed to inform about that, and what did it mean if this mysterious benefactor just knew? Worse still: what if Gansey had long since exhausted his stipend and was living in the red? He was starting to wonder if it was better at all not to ask. The decision to ignore it seemed to be giving him some sort of heart palpitation.
It was 4:46 and Gansey hurled himself out of bed. The change in altitude pushed his panic down a bit, or he strong-armed it down himself and was placidly pretending it had been automatic. This was a Gansey family tradition that only got more finely tuned with each passing generation -- yet another reason Gansey thought he might not want to reproduce. Children tended to destroy before they rebuilt and Gansey felt he'd had enough of that in his life.
From panicking about money to lamenting about children in four seconds flat, Gansey chastised himself. He flicked the light on and its dull glow shot out across the floor, up the walls, and out of the little spaces between Gansey's four walls and the ceiling, the small rectangle of the doorway. Gansey never closed his door. Why, when every person he lived with was welcome anytime?
A few more aimless shuffling steps and Gansey plopped himself down in front of his little paper town and his marked-up Darrow map. In Henrietta, Gansey had laid a new wall for every sleepless night of his (not-quite-to-scale) miniature town. This one had hundreds of walls already, 449 to be exact. That was the exact number of days since Gansey's first arrival, including the months between when this Gansey appeared up to the current date. There were 449 strips of pizza boxes, receipts, yogurt lids, notebook paper, and junk mail arranged into 449 different small pieces of the city of Darrow. He'd begun with Hywel, the center of his universe, but there was no real method to his mapping. Gansey was content to work on whatever part of his little town moved him that night. Tonight, it was the roof of the stables out of a piece of tin foil.
Were they on Earth? Darrow might have been Earth in the way that Cabeswater was in Gansey, which is to say by magic and devoid of logic. However, if Darrow was on Earth or even in the same galaxy, there would be a familiar shape in the sky. Orion, at least, one of Gansey's constant companions on his travels. Gansey was even more thankful that he had his friends with him, since Orion had abandoned him in his inter-dimensional journey. Since they couldn't leave, he could find a new Orion. Gansey wanted to know the stars in Darrow like he knew the ones at home.
That would have been easier with a telescope, but telescopes cost money and Gansey wasn't sure he had any left. He tried to only spend on bare essentials, but he was quickly learning that his idea of "bare essentials" was vastly different than many in Darrow. How much had he spent? He hadn't been keeping track. He hadn't kept his apartment so that meant he wouldn't have to pay for it, right? Who was he supposed to inform about that, and what did it mean if this mysterious benefactor just knew? Worse still: what if Gansey had long since exhausted his stipend and was living in the red? He was starting to wonder if it was better at all not to ask. The decision to ignore it seemed to be giving him some sort of heart palpitation.
It was 4:46 and Gansey hurled himself out of bed. The change in altitude pushed his panic down a bit, or he strong-armed it down himself and was placidly pretending it had been automatic. This was a Gansey family tradition that only got more finely tuned with each passing generation -- yet another reason Gansey thought he might not want to reproduce. Children tended to destroy before they rebuilt and Gansey felt he'd had enough of that in his life.
From panicking about money to lamenting about children in four seconds flat, Gansey chastised himself. He flicked the light on and its dull glow shot out across the floor, up the walls, and out of the little spaces between Gansey's four walls and the ceiling, the small rectangle of the doorway. Gansey never closed his door. Why, when every person he lived with was welcome anytime?
A few more aimless shuffling steps and Gansey plopped himself down in front of his little paper town and his marked-up Darrow map. In Henrietta, Gansey had laid a new wall for every sleepless night of his (not-quite-to-scale) miniature town. This one had hundreds of walls already, 449 to be exact. That was the exact number of days since Gansey's first arrival, including the months between when this Gansey appeared up to the current date. There were 449 strips of pizza boxes, receipts, yogurt lids, notebook paper, and junk mail arranged into 449 different small pieces of the city of Darrow. He'd begun with Hywel, the center of his universe, but there was no real method to his mapping. Gansey was content to work on whatever part of his little town moved him that night. Tonight, it was the roof of the stables out of a piece of tin foil.
