Lee Everett (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rightchoices) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
paradisalogs2013-12-29 02:49 pm
rightchoices) wrote in paradisalogs2013-12-29 02:49 pm
Entry tags:
we could talk about the lives we've led
Who: Lee and anyone!
What: Visitation hours are open at Clem's bedside while she's unconscious for his canon update. Feel free to tag each other, too! Bracketspam or prose are both A+ fine.
When: December 27th-Jan 2nd
Where: Clementine's room.
Rating: PG-13 for language, maybe? Will update if content changes.
On the first day, when Lee sits at all, he perches on the edge of her bed and waits for her to wake. A protective vigil, maybe, or a manifestation of guilt that he'd let this happen to her at all. (Rationally, he knew that there was nothing he could have done. Things like this happen. It's life, and there's no way to get around it.)
On the second day, he drags a stool over, and barely speaks.
Finally, on the third, he wishes up a high backed chair that is more comfortable than it looks. He keeps the area around it tidy, but the stack of books and notebooks grow. He doesn't shave, but he eats enough to keep him going. Showers and changes early every morning, feeds and takes Clementine's puppy outside for a few minutes, just out of habit; he doesn't want he recoiling in disgust when she does finally wake.
Regardless, Lee will be in Clementine's room almost the entire week, eyes probably on some sort of book in his lap, though he can, occasionally and if the door is opened quietly enough, be found either talking or reading to her. In short, he's the picture of a father, worried sick about a silent child, and nothing short of the castle's magic itself could get him to leave for any extended period.
What: Visitation hours are open at Clem's bedside while she's unconscious for his canon update. Feel free to tag each other, too! Bracketspam or prose are both A+ fine.
When: December 27th-Jan 2nd
Where: Clementine's room.
Rating: PG-13 for language, maybe? Will update if content changes.
On the first day, when Lee sits at all, he perches on the edge of her bed and waits for her to wake. A protective vigil, maybe, or a manifestation of guilt that he'd let this happen to her at all. (Rationally, he knew that there was nothing he could have done. Things like this happen. It's life, and there's no way to get around it.)
On the second day, he drags a stool over, and barely speaks.
Finally, on the third, he wishes up a high backed chair that is more comfortable than it looks. He keeps the area around it tidy, but the stack of books and notebooks grow. He doesn't shave, but he eats enough to keep him going. Showers and changes early every morning, feeds and takes Clementine's puppy outside for a few minutes, just out of habit; he doesn't want he recoiling in disgust when she does finally wake.
Regardless, Lee will be in Clementine's room almost the entire week, eyes probably on some sort of book in his lap, though he can, occasionally and if the door is opened quietly enough, be found either talking or reading to her. In short, he's the picture of a father, worried sick about a silent child, and nothing short of the castle's magic itself could get him to leave for any extended period.
no subject
It's Lee's way of pressing for details, idly.
no subject
He might be reddening a little and wishing the ground would eat him up alive.
no subject
He leans back in his seat, expression critical, but his tone is dry.
"Secrets don't make friends."
no subject
"It doesn't matter right now, does it?"