holidaze: 1.0

[ this is almost familiar.

the sunlight room is not, of course, two rivers. it's not built to resemble home either. but, nevertheless: there's a tension that seems to leave rand's shoulders as he walks slowly through the snow-strewn forest, the stuff crunching underfoot and dusting his hair, his shirt, from above. his breath mists in front of him, and he feels...not at home. but something. it's not actually cold, not enough to make a proper winter or bring about all this snow, and that's a constant reminder how unreal this place is. better that he can't forget where he is, in truth; he can't ever go home, and pretending he can doesn't do any good.

he doesn't play in the snow, just sinks to sit by the meadow — out of the way for people who do want to play — or the frozen pond with his back to a tree trunk and, sometimes, a steaming mug in his hands. he only comes when he's at ends, odd hours of night when he can't sleep or during the day when he's run out of ways to keep himself busy, to indulge his wistfulness like this. ]

defect: 6.0

[ click.

maybe rand had dropped by your room to talk, or vice versa. maybe you're both in the kitchen, or the training room, or somewhere else. regardless: he turns on his heel to look at the closed doors, takes a few steps closer to them, and...watches nothing happen. lays a palm against the cool metal and gives it an experimental push. still nothing. then curls his hand into a fist and hits it, which doesn't accomplish much more than give him stinging knuckles. ]

Light, [ he mutters, dismayed. then turns to look at the other person in the room. ] Is that the only door?

wildcard

[ feel free to hit me with a wildcard or pm to plan something! i'm also happy to write personalized starters. here's his inbox, if anyone wants to do misfires. ]