Laura | X-23-23 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
shoplifter) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
pineslog2017-05-12 10:53 pm
shoplifter) wrote in pineslog2017-05-12 10:53 pm
Entry tags:
Open. Catch-all May Log
Who: Laura Howlett and You
Where: School
When: A May Catch-all.
What: Laura tries to adapt. Tries.
Warnings: Spoilers for Logan, maybe some psychological stuff.
[Open]
(Feel free to start a thread any time during all this! If you have an idea or wildcard let me know.)
Laura has been trying to adjust to life in Wayward Pines.
Has it been succeeding? Not particularly. She has a habit of closing herself off and not really talking much, if at all.
She's gone to school -- puts on her old raggedy backpack that she can't seem to part with despite the rips and stains in the green fabric, and walks through the school halls like a ghost of sorts. She tries to find the students in her field trip photo -- but they're not here, and something about it makes her discomforted. When she asks about them, the other students shrink away; they don't care for her much anyway, and the few who seem to be brave enough to try and talk to her about life here are quick in their artificial hellos and goodbyes. Trying to be nice to the weird kid.
One particular day, she grabs a student's arm too hard when she tries to take Laura's chocolate milk. Screams like she's murdering her, and for some reason, something about her reaction baffles her. Another day, one of the older boys says her backpack is ugly, calls her a name. And when he steps forward to try and intimidate her, well.
He ends up on the floor, face scraped on the dirt and crying loudly as she sits with her knee in his back, bending his arm just enough that it doesn't snap the bone. She's snarling, animalistic, and the children keep their distance. That's Mr. Howlett's daughter, she's crazy. So. Yes. In the month of May, she's already making visits to the office and to detention.
She doesn't really care for class work, but she does absorb things being taught. She's by no means dim or unaware, but... well. She doesn't do the work. She does well at P.E. (hey dad, no surprise there), and she actually does the work in art -- sits with her leaf of paper and doodles things. She likes drawing horses and unicorns and little dogs. She'd seen a dog, Lucky. She draws him.
She frequents the edges of the forest, and climbs up trees. And once, she even finds a familiar man from missing posters. Wanted posters. She gives the man all of her snacks and she tries not to let the meeting trouble her... but this and her paranoia leave her on edge.
Sometimes, at home, she has nightmares. They start kind of blurry and plain, but it's always the same; she's in a forest, and she hears screaming -- and then her dad, screaming her name, and -- and there's two of her dad, one is old, one is new, and they fight. And she shoots one -- in the head, she shoots one. The other holds her hand as he lays there, gray-haired and tired and not healing, and his voice is tinny. "Don't be what they made you."
She wakes up startled, afraid, alone in her room decorated with ponies and rainbows and little green army men, and she moves noiselessly to her father's room to lay her blanket quietly on the floor and lay down there in front of the door.
She will protect him.
So it goes. She walks along the edges of the forest, looking into it like she's considering her options. Don't go into the forest. Don't listen to the screaming. Don't ask, don't look, don't wander too far. And yet she stands here, frozen only by her fear that her nightmare may very well come true.
To unwind, she goes into the vinyl record shop.
She cranks up the music. Maybe a bit louder than it should be in the store.
What? It's good music.
It gives her reprieve from her own thoughts, anyway.
Because some of those thoughts aren't exactly following the rules of the town.
Where: School
When: A May Catch-all.
What: Laura tries to adapt. Tries.
Warnings: Spoilers for Logan, maybe some psychological stuff.
[Open]
(Feel free to start a thread any time during all this! If you have an idea or wildcard let me know.)
Laura has been trying to adjust to life in Wayward Pines.
Has it been succeeding? Not particularly. She has a habit of closing herself off and not really talking much, if at all.
She's gone to school -- puts on her old raggedy backpack that she can't seem to part with despite the rips and stains in the green fabric, and walks through the school halls like a ghost of sorts. She tries to find the students in her field trip photo -- but they're not here, and something about it makes her discomforted. When she asks about them, the other students shrink away; they don't care for her much anyway, and the few who seem to be brave enough to try and talk to her about life here are quick in their artificial hellos and goodbyes. Trying to be nice to the weird kid.
One particular day, she grabs a student's arm too hard when she tries to take Laura's chocolate milk. Screams like she's murdering her, and for some reason, something about her reaction baffles her. Another day, one of the older boys says her backpack is ugly, calls her a name. And when he steps forward to try and intimidate her, well.
He ends up on the floor, face scraped on the dirt and crying loudly as she sits with her knee in his back, bending his arm just enough that it doesn't snap the bone. She's snarling, animalistic, and the children keep their distance. That's Mr. Howlett's daughter, she's crazy. So. Yes. In the month of May, she's already making visits to the office and to detention.
She doesn't really care for class work, but she does absorb things being taught. She's by no means dim or unaware, but... well. She doesn't do the work. She does well at P.E. (hey dad, no surprise there), and she actually does the work in art -- sits with her leaf of paper and doodles things. She likes drawing horses and unicorns and little dogs. She'd seen a dog, Lucky. She draws him.
She frequents the edges of the forest, and climbs up trees. And once, she even finds a familiar man from missing posters. Wanted posters. She gives the man all of her snacks and she tries not to let the meeting trouble her... but this and her paranoia leave her on edge.
Sometimes, at home, she has nightmares. They start kind of blurry and plain, but it's always the same; she's in a forest, and she hears screaming -- and then her dad, screaming her name, and -- and there's two of her dad, one is old, one is new, and they fight. And she shoots one -- in the head, she shoots one. The other holds her hand as he lays there, gray-haired and tired and not healing, and his voice is tinny. "Don't be what they made you."
She wakes up startled, afraid, alone in her room decorated with ponies and rainbows and little green army men, and she moves noiselessly to her father's room to lay her blanket quietly on the floor and lay down there in front of the door.
She will protect him.
So it goes. She walks along the edges of the forest, looking into it like she's considering her options. Don't go into the forest. Don't listen to the screaming. Don't ask, don't look, don't wander too far. And yet she stands here, frozen only by her fear that her nightmare may very well come true.
To unwind, she goes into the vinyl record shop.
She cranks up the music. Maybe a bit louder than it should be in the store.
What? It's good music.
It gives her reprieve from her own thoughts, anyway.
Because some of those thoughts aren't exactly following the rules of the town.