Pandora's Box
Jan. 17th, 2011 03:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lit_galA long time ago, I wrote Ad Libitum. ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, FIVE, SIX, SEVEN
This is the sequel
Pandora's Box.
Jim/Blair, Alex/Naomi
( Chapters 1-3 ) ( Chapter four ) ( Chapter Five ) ( Chapter 6 ) ( Chapter 7 ) ( Chapter 8 )
Blair wanted to find Sentinels, and now... now he's about to have more Sentinels than he can shake a stick at. Sometimes getting what you ask for is a problem.
~9~
“I can walk,” Blair tried saying for the hundredth time. And for the hundredth and first, Jim just glared. If they didn't get back to the States soon, Jim was going to use up his whole quota of pissiness for the year. The only answer Jim gave was to walk faster. Blair's wheelchair click-clacked across the tiles.
“It means so much that you are willing to do this.” Señor Padilla Rivera walked beside them, and despite the fact that Jim was still putting out a cold front, the man smiled at Jim as though they were all best friends.
“Man, just don't get your hopes up too high,” Blair warned. “The Bethesda patients haven't improved.” Blair figured it might have something to do with the fact that a Sentinel just needed a guide, but whatever the reason, the men weren't getting any better. Oh the doctors were excited because they had new theories, and a couple of the doctors were even polite about listening to Blair's theories. However, they wanted medical solutions, and Blair didn't have any. But he was getting good dissertation data. He felt a flash of guilt about the fact that he was benefiting from their misery; however, he really was trying to help.
“I understand. Perhaps you have no way to help these men. But if you can put a name on it, if you can help our scientists to look in the right direction, that is all we ask.”
“And if he can’t do that?” Jim asked stiffly.
Señor Padilla Rivera shrugged. “Then he cannot. He will still have our gratitude for trying. And of course, he will still be much in demand from our archeologists. They are most eager to explore the Temple of the Sentinels and to discuss the mythology with Dr. Sandburg.”
Blair really hoped it was going to be that simple. They passed to soldiers in the hallway. If Blair thought Jim was tense before that, he was wound tighter than a Slinky after.
“Two of the men are in here. The third, he is most gravely ill and doctors have placed him in isolation.” Señor Padilla Rivera reached for the knob of one of the doors and pushed it open. If Jim hadn't been pushing the chair, if Blair had been on his own two feet, he would've stopped at the threshold. The moment he got close, he could feel something pushing against his skin, as if the air had gotten thicker. One of the men was sitting up in bed, his sandy hair sticking up in awkward clumps of spikes. The second man lay flat staring up at the ceiling. His eyes were closed tightly, the skin wrinkling at the corners. Blair had the impression that even now, just lying in bed, he was in a lot of pain. Both men were hooked up to IVs.
“Señors Sandburg and Ellison, this is Lieutenant Alejandro Vega and Sub-lieutenant Izador Jimenez-Ramirro. These are the two Americans, and this is Blair Sandburg, the man who has worked with the doctors in America,” Padilla Rivera introduced them. He added something in Spanish, and as far as Blair could tell he was repeating the introduction. The one with the sandy brown hair lighter complexion struggled to reach the edge of his bed, and Blair got the impression he wanted to stand. “No, no,” Señor Padilla Rivera said hurrying to the man's bedside, “Subteniente Jimenez-Ramirro, you must rest.” Padilla Rivera rested his hand against the soldier’s shoulder, urging him back into bed. The other man, the lieutenant with dark skin and black hair, didn’t even twitch.
Using the arms of the wheelchair, Blair pushed himself up. The pressure he could feel against his skin grew thicker and more viscous as he stepped closer to the lieutenant. “Chief,” Jim whispered, his hand slipping under Blair's elbow. As much as he hated to admit it, Blair needed support. He let himself lean into Jim as he moved closer to Alejandro Vega. The man's hands were twisted into the white sheets, and his lips were pressed into a thin line.
“He is been in great pain today,” Jimenez-Ramiro offered. Blair was guessing Jimenez-Ramiro wasn't doing so well himself. He had the gaunt look of a muscular man who is lost too much weight too quickly.
“I don’t know that I can do anything,” Blair said quite honestly. He had his Sentinel. Trying to work with Alex had shown him the danger in trying to guide to sentinels at once. But maybe he could do something to ease their pain. Maybe the sheets were too rough or something was aggravating Vega's senses.
Blair moved closer, Jim at his elbow the whole way. When he got close enough, Blair reached out and fingered the sheets that Vega was clinging to so desperately. They were stiff, the way hospital sheets always were. If they'd been alone, Blair would've asked Jim what the sheets felt like to a Sentinel, but they weren't. He had to fake it. “Have you noticed your senses giving you problems?” Blair asked Jimenez-Ramiro. “Are the lights too bright or smells bothering you? Do the sheets feel too rough or too stiff?”
The sub-lieutenant frowned and looked to Padilla Rivera who rattled off several long questions in Spanish. The sub-lieutenant nodded and answered.
“He says all of that has been happening,” Padilla Rivera translated for Blair. “He did not want to make unmanly complaints.” Padilla Rivera looked a little disgusted as he added the last part. “I will have hospital staff attend to those details. Will that help Teniente Vega?”
Blair looked at the suffering man lying on sweat-stained white sheets. “It’s a start,” Blair said. He swallowed as a whole load of fears and guilt pressed up into his throat. He was the fucking expert, and he had no idea what to do. His first instinct was to reach out for the man, to make some ridiculous promise that it would all get better.
“Blair?” Jim asked. Blair looked up at Jim, his guts tangled in his own helplessness, and Jim’s expression softened. “You can’t fix everything, Chief,” Jim whispered.
“This is my fucking dissertation. I should be able to do something.” Hell, the way Chancellor Edwards fluttered around him talking about Blair’s groundbreaking work and partnership with Bethesda, she made it seem like Blair was some sort of genius, but he had no idea what to do for these men. He’d been Jim’s guide, and with the Bethesda patients, he just consulted with the doctors and then accepted their data on the relative strengths of the Sentinels’ senses. He’d never felt like such a fraud in his life as he did being faced with Vega and Jimenez-Ramiro. And there was a third man who was even worse, and Blair was fucking helpless.
Blair took another step closer and studied the lines of pain etched into Vega’s face. Maybe he could figure out which sense had overloaded him. Blair would guess touch from the way he was clutching the sheets, but maybe he’d been trying to use sense to distract himself from another sense. Blair leaned in closer, Jim’s hand still resting against his arm. Vega’s eyes came open so fast that Blair sucked in a startled breath and then a strong hand caught his wrist.
“Jim!” Blair yelped and Jim tried to jerk him back, but Vega had Blair’s wrist. Blair hissed in pain as he became the rope in a tug of war between Vega and Jim.
Padilla Rivera rattled on in Spanish, and Jimenez-Ramiro pushed himself to the side of his bed, his feet over the side, but he stopped there. The door swung open, and a soldier appeared in the threshold with a very confused expression.
“Sentinel!” Jim bellowed. He dropped Blair’s arm and moved in on Vega, grabbing the man’s wrist. Vega had been staring at Blair with dark, hungry eyes, but now he blinked and confusion replaced the hunger.
“Sentinel?” he echoed, sounding out the unfamiliar word. He looked around the room, his eyes settling on Señor Padilla Rivera from the health department. Padilla Rivera hurried to offer an explanation, his words rattling past so fast that Blair could only catch his name and Jim’s name and a reference to the United States. Señor Padilla Rivera finished, and Vega slowly let go of Blair’s wrist, but Jim continued to pin Vega’s arm to the bed.
“Lo siento, Sentinel Ellison. Lo siento,” he offered in a weary voice before his apology dove into Spanish that Blair couldn’t follow. Blair held his breath, terrified as he realized that Vega had recognized Jim as a Sentinel. He stared at Padilla Rivera and prayed that the man dismissed it as the ramblings of a confused man in pain.
Jim slowly let go of Vega’s arm and spoke to the man in a halting and accented Spanish of his own. Blair caught the words for “pain” and something that sounded like “pardon.” Jim kept his eyes on Vega, but he tilted his head toward Señor Padilla Rivera. “The sheets are painful. You should probably get someone in here with something softer.”
“Get him out of bed,” Blair blurted out. Jim turned and frowned at him, clearly confused.
“Man, he has all that skin pressing into the hard sheets. Get him out of the bed and you reduce his contact with the irritant,” Blair pointed out. Jim blinked for a second and then nodded.
“That makes sense. Um… Señor Padilla Rivera?” Jim looked over.
“I can help,” Blair said as he tried to move closer, but Jim hip checked him, forcing Blair to stumble away from the bed. “Hey!”
“You aren’t getting too close, Chief. He needs a guide, and I’m going to feel really guilty if I have to break his neck for assaulting you again.” Jim didn’t even sound like he was joking. Señor Padilla Rivera hurried around Blair, his body forcing Blair to take another step back from Vega.
“Of course, I can help, Señor Ellison,” he offered. He got on Vega’s other side and offered his arm. “Soldado, go and find a nurse, a hospital employee,” he said to the soldier who was still standing at the doorway looking lost. He added something in Spanish, and the soldier nodded and vanished back out the door. Jim and Padilla Rivera got on either side of Lieutenant Vega and got him up onto his feet. His hospital gown gaped at back, and Blair sucked in a breath when he saw the angry rash all down his backside. The white sheets were covered in sweat with little dots of blood.
“Dios mío,” Padilla Rivera said, his voice little more than a whisper. “This is a good hospital. Doctors would not have allowed this.”
“With Sentinels, skin irritations can happen fast,” Blair said. “We need something natural without more chemicals to irritate the skin, something like aloe. But first, we have to get his skin washed down with simple water, get the irritant off it.”
“The nurses can see to that,” Padilla Rivera assured them. Vega seemed a little more focused once they had him on his feet. He shuffled between Jim and Padilla Rivera, his eyes following Blair until the muscle on Jim’s jaw bulged dangerously.
“Knock it off, Vega,” Jim snapped. Even if Vega didn’t know English, he obviously got the tone of that because he tore his gaze away from Blair and frowned at Jim, saying something Blair couldn’t follow, and Blair was starting to regret not learning Spanish because he desperately wanted to know what they were saying. Clearly, he and Jim had been together long enough to get a sort of pseudo-mindreading power going because the second Blair thought that, Jim provided the translation.
“He’s apologizing for staring, but he thinks you smell good.”
Blair snorted. “Nice to know.”
Jimenez-Ramiro pushed himself up, but he had a hand still braced against his bed. “You do, Señor Sandburg.”
Jim transferred his glare to the second Sentinel.
He held his hand up in a placating gesture. “I no will ever attempt to… pursue your attentions.”
“Good,” Jim snapped. “Señor Padilla Rivera, my Spanish is rudimentary at best.”
“You do very well,” Padilla Rivera disagreed, but then he was a government official, and they had training classes in how to lie. Blair couldn’t speak a word of it, and he could still tell Jim’s Spanish seriously sucked.
“Can you ask Lieutenant Vega if there is anyone who we could call for him? Maybe this is a person who smells as good as Blair or someone who he would spend time with when his senses were starting to get out of control, someone he knew before he came here.” Jim made eye contact with Blair, and in that moment, Blair realized that Jim was going to put helping these men ahead of trying to keep his secret. The knot in Blair’s stomach grew twice as large, but he followed Jim’s lead.
“A Sentinel has a companion, a guide who can help them when the senses overwhelm them. This is someone who can talk them back from a zone or talk them into admitting they’re in pain instead of letting them dismiss medical problems as unmanly complaining.” Blair looked over at Jimenez-Ramiro when he said that last part. The Sentinel had the grace to drop his gaze to the floor and blush a bit.
“Of course, I will ask.” Padilla Rivera and Vega had a long conversation in Spanish, and the confusion slowly vanished from Vega’s face to be replaced with a tentative sort of hope.
“Cabo Feo Morales,” he blurted out loudly. When he went back to long Spanish sentences, Blair couldn’t follow Vega, but the name Morales came up several more times. Vega was still talking about Morales when three nurses hurried into the room. Two more staff in green followed, one clutching a new set of sheets.
“Gentlemen,” Señor Padilla Rivera said as he let a nurse take his place at Vega’s side, “the room is soon to be very much crowded. The doctors will need to check both men and they will use water and aloe to try and ease the pain. However, there is little more we can do here.” He headed for the door. “After you,” he offered, gesturing toward the door. Blair traded a concerned look with Jim, but the die was cast, and now they were going to have to just see where this led.
This is the sequel
Pandora's Box.
Jim/Blair, Alex/Naomi
( Chapters 1-3 ) ( Chapter four ) ( Chapter Five ) ( Chapter 6 ) ( Chapter 7 ) ( Chapter 8 )
Blair wanted to find Sentinels, and now... now he's about to have more Sentinels than he can shake a stick at. Sometimes getting what you ask for is a problem.
~9~
“I can walk,” Blair tried saying for the hundredth time. And for the hundredth and first, Jim just glared. If they didn't get back to the States soon, Jim was going to use up his whole quota of pissiness for the year. The only answer Jim gave was to walk faster. Blair's wheelchair click-clacked across the tiles.
“It means so much that you are willing to do this.” Señor Padilla Rivera walked beside them, and despite the fact that Jim was still putting out a cold front, the man smiled at Jim as though they were all best friends.
“Man, just don't get your hopes up too high,” Blair warned. “The Bethesda patients haven't improved.” Blair figured it might have something to do with the fact that a Sentinel just needed a guide, but whatever the reason, the men weren't getting any better. Oh the doctors were excited because they had new theories, and a couple of the doctors were even polite about listening to Blair's theories. However, they wanted medical solutions, and Blair didn't have any. But he was getting good dissertation data. He felt a flash of guilt about the fact that he was benefiting from their misery; however, he really was trying to help.
“I understand. Perhaps you have no way to help these men. But if you can put a name on it, if you can help our scientists to look in the right direction, that is all we ask.”
“And if he can’t do that?” Jim asked stiffly.
Señor Padilla Rivera shrugged. “Then he cannot. He will still have our gratitude for trying. And of course, he will still be much in demand from our archeologists. They are most eager to explore the Temple of the Sentinels and to discuss the mythology with Dr. Sandburg.”
Blair really hoped it was going to be that simple. They passed to soldiers in the hallway. If Blair thought Jim was tense before that, he was wound tighter than a Slinky after.
“Two of the men are in here. The third, he is most gravely ill and doctors have placed him in isolation.” Señor Padilla Rivera reached for the knob of one of the doors and pushed it open. If Jim hadn't been pushing the chair, if Blair had been on his own two feet, he would've stopped at the threshold. The moment he got close, he could feel something pushing against his skin, as if the air had gotten thicker. One of the men was sitting up in bed, his sandy hair sticking up in awkward clumps of spikes. The second man lay flat staring up at the ceiling. His eyes were closed tightly, the skin wrinkling at the corners. Blair had the impression that even now, just lying in bed, he was in a lot of pain. Both men were hooked up to IVs.
“Señors Sandburg and Ellison, this is Lieutenant Alejandro Vega and Sub-lieutenant Izador Jimenez-Ramirro. These are the two Americans, and this is Blair Sandburg, the man who has worked with the doctors in America,” Padilla Rivera introduced them. He added something in Spanish, and as far as Blair could tell he was repeating the introduction. The one with the sandy brown hair lighter complexion struggled to reach the edge of his bed, and Blair got the impression he wanted to stand. “No, no,” Señor Padilla Rivera said hurrying to the man's bedside, “Subteniente Jimenez-Ramirro, you must rest.” Padilla Rivera rested his hand against the soldier’s shoulder, urging him back into bed. The other man, the lieutenant with dark skin and black hair, didn’t even twitch.
Using the arms of the wheelchair, Blair pushed himself up. The pressure he could feel against his skin grew thicker and more viscous as he stepped closer to the lieutenant. “Chief,” Jim whispered, his hand slipping under Blair's elbow. As much as he hated to admit it, Blair needed support. He let himself lean into Jim as he moved closer to Alejandro Vega. The man's hands were twisted into the white sheets, and his lips were pressed into a thin line.
“He is been in great pain today,” Jimenez-Ramiro offered. Blair was guessing Jimenez-Ramiro wasn't doing so well himself. He had the gaunt look of a muscular man who is lost too much weight too quickly.
“I don’t know that I can do anything,” Blair said quite honestly. He had his Sentinel. Trying to work with Alex had shown him the danger in trying to guide to sentinels at once. But maybe he could do something to ease their pain. Maybe the sheets were too rough or something was aggravating Vega's senses.
Blair moved closer, Jim at his elbow the whole way. When he got close enough, Blair reached out and fingered the sheets that Vega was clinging to so desperately. They were stiff, the way hospital sheets always were. If they'd been alone, Blair would've asked Jim what the sheets felt like to a Sentinel, but they weren't. He had to fake it. “Have you noticed your senses giving you problems?” Blair asked Jimenez-Ramiro. “Are the lights too bright or smells bothering you? Do the sheets feel too rough or too stiff?”
The sub-lieutenant frowned and looked to Padilla Rivera who rattled off several long questions in Spanish. The sub-lieutenant nodded and answered.
“He says all of that has been happening,” Padilla Rivera translated for Blair. “He did not want to make unmanly complaints.” Padilla Rivera looked a little disgusted as he added the last part. “I will have hospital staff attend to those details. Will that help Teniente Vega?”
Blair looked at the suffering man lying on sweat-stained white sheets. “It’s a start,” Blair said. He swallowed as a whole load of fears and guilt pressed up into his throat. He was the fucking expert, and he had no idea what to do. His first instinct was to reach out for the man, to make some ridiculous promise that it would all get better.
“Blair?” Jim asked. Blair looked up at Jim, his guts tangled in his own helplessness, and Jim’s expression softened. “You can’t fix everything, Chief,” Jim whispered.
“This is my fucking dissertation. I should be able to do something.” Hell, the way Chancellor Edwards fluttered around him talking about Blair’s groundbreaking work and partnership with Bethesda, she made it seem like Blair was some sort of genius, but he had no idea what to do for these men. He’d been Jim’s guide, and with the Bethesda patients, he just consulted with the doctors and then accepted their data on the relative strengths of the Sentinels’ senses. He’d never felt like such a fraud in his life as he did being faced with Vega and Jimenez-Ramiro. And there was a third man who was even worse, and Blair was fucking helpless.
Blair took another step closer and studied the lines of pain etched into Vega’s face. Maybe he could figure out which sense had overloaded him. Blair would guess touch from the way he was clutching the sheets, but maybe he’d been trying to use sense to distract himself from another sense. Blair leaned in closer, Jim’s hand still resting against his arm. Vega’s eyes came open so fast that Blair sucked in a startled breath and then a strong hand caught his wrist.
“Jim!” Blair yelped and Jim tried to jerk him back, but Vega had Blair’s wrist. Blair hissed in pain as he became the rope in a tug of war between Vega and Jim.
Padilla Rivera rattled on in Spanish, and Jimenez-Ramiro pushed himself to the side of his bed, his feet over the side, but he stopped there. The door swung open, and a soldier appeared in the threshold with a very confused expression.
“Sentinel!” Jim bellowed. He dropped Blair’s arm and moved in on Vega, grabbing the man’s wrist. Vega had been staring at Blair with dark, hungry eyes, but now he blinked and confusion replaced the hunger.
“Sentinel?” he echoed, sounding out the unfamiliar word. He looked around the room, his eyes settling on Señor Padilla Rivera from the health department. Padilla Rivera hurried to offer an explanation, his words rattling past so fast that Blair could only catch his name and Jim’s name and a reference to the United States. Señor Padilla Rivera finished, and Vega slowly let go of Blair’s wrist, but Jim continued to pin Vega’s arm to the bed.
“Lo siento, Sentinel Ellison. Lo siento,” he offered in a weary voice before his apology dove into Spanish that Blair couldn’t follow. Blair held his breath, terrified as he realized that Vega had recognized Jim as a Sentinel. He stared at Padilla Rivera and prayed that the man dismissed it as the ramblings of a confused man in pain.
Jim slowly let go of Vega’s arm and spoke to the man in a halting and accented Spanish of his own. Blair caught the words for “pain” and something that sounded like “pardon.” Jim kept his eyes on Vega, but he tilted his head toward Señor Padilla Rivera. “The sheets are painful. You should probably get someone in here with something softer.”
“Get him out of bed,” Blair blurted out. Jim turned and frowned at him, clearly confused.
“Man, he has all that skin pressing into the hard sheets. Get him out of the bed and you reduce his contact with the irritant,” Blair pointed out. Jim blinked for a second and then nodded.
“That makes sense. Um… Señor Padilla Rivera?” Jim looked over.
“I can help,” Blair said as he tried to move closer, but Jim hip checked him, forcing Blair to stumble away from the bed. “Hey!”
“You aren’t getting too close, Chief. He needs a guide, and I’m going to feel really guilty if I have to break his neck for assaulting you again.” Jim didn’t even sound like he was joking. Señor Padilla Rivera hurried around Blair, his body forcing Blair to take another step back from Vega.
“Of course, I can help, Señor Ellison,” he offered. He got on Vega’s other side and offered his arm. “Soldado, go and find a nurse, a hospital employee,” he said to the soldier who was still standing at the doorway looking lost. He added something in Spanish, and the soldier nodded and vanished back out the door. Jim and Padilla Rivera got on either side of Lieutenant Vega and got him up onto his feet. His hospital gown gaped at back, and Blair sucked in a breath when he saw the angry rash all down his backside. The white sheets were covered in sweat with little dots of blood.
“Dios mío,” Padilla Rivera said, his voice little more than a whisper. “This is a good hospital. Doctors would not have allowed this.”
“With Sentinels, skin irritations can happen fast,” Blair said. “We need something natural without more chemicals to irritate the skin, something like aloe. But first, we have to get his skin washed down with simple water, get the irritant off it.”
“The nurses can see to that,” Padilla Rivera assured them. Vega seemed a little more focused once they had him on his feet. He shuffled between Jim and Padilla Rivera, his eyes following Blair until the muscle on Jim’s jaw bulged dangerously.
“Knock it off, Vega,” Jim snapped. Even if Vega didn’t know English, he obviously got the tone of that because he tore his gaze away from Blair and frowned at Jim, saying something Blair couldn’t follow, and Blair was starting to regret not learning Spanish because he desperately wanted to know what they were saying. Clearly, he and Jim had been together long enough to get a sort of pseudo-mindreading power going because the second Blair thought that, Jim provided the translation.
“He’s apologizing for staring, but he thinks you smell good.”
Blair snorted. “Nice to know.”
Jimenez-Ramiro pushed himself up, but he had a hand still braced against his bed. “You do, Señor Sandburg.”
Jim transferred his glare to the second Sentinel.
He held his hand up in a placating gesture. “I no will ever attempt to… pursue your attentions.”
“Good,” Jim snapped. “Señor Padilla Rivera, my Spanish is rudimentary at best.”
“You do very well,” Padilla Rivera disagreed, but then he was a government official, and they had training classes in how to lie. Blair couldn’t speak a word of it, and he could still tell Jim’s Spanish seriously sucked.
“Can you ask Lieutenant Vega if there is anyone who we could call for him? Maybe this is a person who smells as good as Blair or someone who he would spend time with when his senses were starting to get out of control, someone he knew before he came here.” Jim made eye contact with Blair, and in that moment, Blair realized that Jim was going to put helping these men ahead of trying to keep his secret. The knot in Blair’s stomach grew twice as large, but he followed Jim’s lead.
“A Sentinel has a companion, a guide who can help them when the senses overwhelm them. This is someone who can talk them back from a zone or talk them into admitting they’re in pain instead of letting them dismiss medical problems as unmanly complaining.” Blair looked over at Jimenez-Ramiro when he said that last part. The Sentinel had the grace to drop his gaze to the floor and blush a bit.
“Of course, I will ask.” Padilla Rivera and Vega had a long conversation in Spanish, and the confusion slowly vanished from Vega’s face to be replaced with a tentative sort of hope.
“Cabo Feo Morales,” he blurted out loudly. When he went back to long Spanish sentences, Blair couldn’t follow Vega, but the name Morales came up several more times. Vega was still talking about Morales when three nurses hurried into the room. Two more staff in green followed, one clutching a new set of sheets.
“Gentlemen,” Señor Padilla Rivera said as he let a nurse take his place at Vega’s side, “the room is soon to be very much crowded. The doctors will need to check both men and they will use water and aloe to try and ease the pain. However, there is little more we can do here.” He headed for the door. “After you,” he offered, gesturing toward the door. Blair traded a concerned look with Jim, but the die was cast, and now they were going to have to just see where this led.
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Date: 2011-01-17 10:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-23 03:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-17 11:16 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2011-01-23 03:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-18 04:38 pm (UTC)This is coming along nicely.
no subject
Date: 2011-01-23 03:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-18 08:18 pm (UTC)In this mythology, is there only one perfect guide for a sentinel based on some sort of mystical/sense connection? Obviously, unbonded Sentinels are attracted to guides like Blair but is that only because they don't have a guide or because he has traits that would make them compatible if Blair wasn't bonded? Of course, answer to these questions lead to others. Hope you feel inspired.
I'm sorry that you have got a salary decrease a third year in a row. I've been without a job for longer than that and living with my parents and had to dip into my iras, etc. Anyways, your stories bring anticipation and joy to my life when it has been dark for a while. I hope that things will get better and comments from you readers add something positive to your life.
no subject
Date: 2011-01-23 03:10 pm (UTC)I'm not sure if it's true that there is only one perfect guide for one sentinel. However, some people are more compatible than others. And in some cases (like Blair and Alex), the sentinel and guide aren't compatible at all.
And trust me, I know I'm lucky to have a job. I think this annoys me more because the administrators got a raise last year. They already make six figures, and they get more while my salary gets cut. There's an unfairness there that makes me rankle.
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Date: 2011-01-20 06:08 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2011-01-30 08:10 am (UTC)