[It's a good thing Qubit got there in record time. Carlisle barely even looks Qubit's way as he technomances some kind of contraption into being just on his periphery; his gaze is instead affixed ahead of him, locked on a specific wrinkle in the bark of a tree on the other side of the clearing as though it were the cause of all his problems. It's not, obviously, but he finds staying focused on something — anything — other than himself helps.
Unfortunately, it's much harder not to think about himself and all the consequences of being himself entails now that Qubit is here. A sigh rattles its way out of his chest as a dozen questions run through his head, including:
What if this doesn't work? Much like Carlisle wouldn't hear talk of Qubit's memory not returning, Qubit won't have any of that. It's out of the question, as far as he's concerned. It will work, or they will find a way to make it work.
What if it gets worse over time? They will deal with it. The nebulous how still bothers him.
Would it not be better for him to simply leave Anchor? Why does he let his cowardice keep him there? What reason has he to remain and put everyone else in mortal peril just so he can exist? He knows the answer to that, and would prefer not to think about it. It makes him feel like he has more in common with the other Carlisle than he'd like.
Instead of pondering any further, he draws his legs up to him, making himself as small and unobtrusive as possible, his head on his knees. The grass continues to crunch unpleasantly as his boots scrape against the ground.]
Wh- what's that do, again?
[He means the device Qubit has set up. It was a part of their plan, but he needs something else to focus on until they're ready, and admittedly, he finds Qubit's voice to be comforting.]
no subject
[It's a good thing Qubit got there in record time. Carlisle barely even looks Qubit's way as he technomances some kind of contraption into being just on his periphery; his gaze is instead affixed ahead of him, locked on a specific wrinkle in the bark of a tree on the other side of the clearing as though it were the cause of all his problems. It's not, obviously, but he finds staying focused on something — anything — other than himself helps.
Unfortunately, it's much harder not to think about himself and all the consequences of being himself entails now that Qubit is here. A sigh rattles its way out of his chest as a dozen questions run through his head, including:
What if this doesn't work?
Much like Carlisle wouldn't hear talk of Qubit's memory not returning, Qubit won't have any of that. It's out of the question, as far as he's concerned. It will work, or they will find a way to make it work.
What if it gets worse over time?
They will deal with it. The nebulous how still bothers him.
Would it not be better for him to simply leave Anchor? Why does he let his cowardice keep him there? What reason has he to remain and put everyone else in mortal peril just so he can exist?
He knows the answer to that, and would prefer not to think about it. It makes him feel like he has more in common with the other Carlisle than he'd like.
Instead of pondering any further, he draws his legs up to him, making himself as small and unobtrusive as possible, his head on his knees. The grass continues to crunch unpleasantly as his boots scrape against the ground.]
Wh- what's that do, again?
[He means the device Qubit has set up. It was a part of their plan, but he needs something else to focus on until they're ready, and admittedly, he finds Qubit's voice to be comforting.]