You can't always get what you want
Feb. 20th, 2015 12:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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more_than_toolsWho: Jonas and Khemrys?
When: Early in Jonas' stay at the company, some months before the escape
What: Jonas likes taking pictures, but he likes some pictures more than others.
Jonas fiddled with his camera, not looking up as the lady held the door open for him to go back into the dormitory. The camera, a gift from his father when he turned ten, had been one of the only things he'd been allowed to bring besides books and a few clothes, and they came to take the memory card every few days and bring a new one. 'So he could take more pictures' of course, since none of them were allowed a computer that he could download the pictures to. But it was okay. He liked taking the pictures, mostly, so if they disappeared afterwards, that was just what happened.
She patted him on the shoulder and he flinched, even with the cloth of his shirt between them. He twisted, turning to snap a picture which made her laugh and tell him she'd be watching for that one when she got him a new card tomorrow. It was fine, she would, the picture was fine.
Sometimes, though, the pictures looked weird. He couldn't really describe it, except that one day, the pictures would be fine, and the next, pictures of the same person would be not right anymore. He'd never told anyone, not even the lady, especially not once he realized that most often, the pictures that looked weird were pictures of the kids that were gone the next day. The ones that 'were placed in other homes.' He didn't believe it, but he didn't believe lots of things, and it never seemed to matter.
So he was always careful who he took pictures of, watching for that weird something he couldn't describe. There were some people he liked taking pictures of, though. He raised the camera again once the door had closed behind him, snapping a picture of Khemrys. She looked tired today, but her pictures were never weird.
When: Early in Jonas' stay at the company, some months before the escape
What: Jonas likes taking pictures, but he likes some pictures more than others.
Jonas fiddled with his camera, not looking up as the lady held the door open for him to go back into the dormitory. The camera, a gift from his father when he turned ten, had been one of the only things he'd been allowed to bring besides books and a few clothes, and they came to take the memory card every few days and bring a new one. 'So he could take more pictures' of course, since none of them were allowed a computer that he could download the pictures to. But it was okay. He liked taking the pictures, mostly, so if they disappeared afterwards, that was just what happened.
She patted him on the shoulder and he flinched, even with the cloth of his shirt between them. He twisted, turning to snap a picture which made her laugh and tell him she'd be watching for that one when she got him a new card tomorrow. It was fine, she would, the picture was fine.
Sometimes, though, the pictures looked weird. He couldn't really describe it, except that one day, the pictures would be fine, and the next, pictures of the same person would be not right anymore. He'd never told anyone, not even the lady, especially not once he realized that most often, the pictures that looked weird were pictures of the kids that were gone the next day. The ones that 'were placed in other homes.' He didn't believe it, but he didn't believe lots of things, and it never seemed to matter.
So he was always careful who he took pictures of, watching for that weird something he couldn't describe. There were some people he liked taking pictures of, though. He raised the camera again once the door had closed behind him, snapping a picture of Khemrys. She looked tired today, but her pictures were never weird.
no subject
Date: 2017-03-20 05:36 pm (UTC)He crouched down across from her, watching to see what she was doing for a second before gesturing for her to move her hands away. He pulled off one glove, careful to touch only the plants she'd been digging around, feeling them (and more importantly, their roots) shrivel and die under his touch. It wasn't so bad with plants. They didn't feel or think or react... Maybe he should become a gardener.
no subject
Date: 2017-03-20 05:53 pm (UTC)