a thousand faces staring at me, a thousand times i've fallen
He is restless with nothing to do and nothing to keep his mind off of being around so many people when he was so used to being a hermit alone in his room while his parents watched over the rest of everything. And now? Now it’s just him, unsure of what to do with himself and his hands other than the only thing he really does know. So he supposes now is as good a time as ever, choosing his little toolbag as he easily kicks the dufflebag under his bed.
And then? Then he’s stepping out toward the main room, avoiding the eyes that drift to him occasionally, aiming for the main center where the tables sit where one of the tables had a loose leg that had driven him insane the first time someone had set something on it and it wobbled. Green eyes focus on the table, almost as if he’s on some sort of determined path to fix it.
He doesn’t say anything to anyone around, ignores them for the most part as he moves some of the items to the table next to it so it’s empty, before pulling out a few tools to start to fix it.
And then? Then he’s stepping out toward the main room, avoiding the eyes that drift to him occasionally, aiming for the main center where the tables sit where one of the tables had a loose leg that had driven him insane the first time someone had set something on it and it wobbled. Green eyes focus on the table, almost as if he’s on some sort of determined path to fix it.
He doesn’t say anything to anyone around, ignores them for the most part as he moves some of the items to the table next to it so it’s empty, before pulling out a few tools to start to fix it.
a thousand voices dead at my feet
GLAS
