[center][b][h1][color=pink]Jocelyn Victoria Beatrice Harmon AKA Tonic[/color][/h1][/b][/center]
[center][hider=Tonic][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/7285acb5-3916-4377-a6e1-a21597a529b6.jpg[/img][/hider][/center][hr][h2][center]Location: Boston; 20 months after the Incident[/center][/h2][hr][center][h3] Interaction: [url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4823237]Finnlay[/url] [@sly13][/h3][/center][hr][center][h3] Mention: [url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4823682]Athena[/url]; [url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4824026]Oberon[/url] [@soren] & [url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4823238]James[/url] [@BladeSS4][/h3][/center][hr][hr]Yet another day. They all seem to run together. I’m a glutton for punishment. I decided that I can’t leave. Not till I fix what is broken. To fix it I have to know how it broke first. That’s complicated.

I skim over details with Athena and Oberon about life every check in. No need for them to know that something is wrong. Athena would worry. Can’t have that. I’ve taken to shadowing Finnlay if he goes out to the Black Rose, I’m there. The gym, I’m there. Nightly jaunts, I’m there. Always with “I'm here if you need to talk. I'm not leaving. Is breá liom tú." and healing as needed. Sometimes if I’m lucky it seems like I almost get a response. Almost. But almost doesn’t count. Unless it’s horseshoes or hand grenades. This is neither.

It’s like I’m living with someone who switched off their humanity. Black and white, no gray. Boston is ruled with an iron fist. Most days I’m thankful I’m practically immortal. I’ve taken to stretching myself thin across the patrols Finnlay normally haunts. Collection of petty criminals that wind up in jail. Better in jail than to face off with an executioner.

[color=pink] "I'm here if you need to talk. I'm not leaving. Is breá liom tú."[/color] I say as I hand him a cup of tea.[color=pink] “Did you need anything before I head over to the library?”[/color] I know the answer. I’m not really studying for a class like I’ve let him believe. I use it as an excuse to do digging into newspapers, online articles, information in general. Like that James was dead.

I know this would be easier if I just let Athena do it but I can’t. I can’t make myself admit that there is a problem out loud. Don’t get me wrong I know that there is a problem. I carry this guilt like a cross and sharing the weight would probably help me out but I can’t. [b][i]I[/i][/b] did this to him.[b][i] I[/i][/b] have to fix it. No one else needs to know. He’ll be okay once I reach him. But it has to be soon. 

I can feel parts of me shutting down. Maybe it’s just a coping mechanism. Just boxing up little parts of me to function better. Boxes that say ‘Open Later’ or something like that...Maybe.[color=pink] “Did you hear me, mo chroí?”[/color] I thought about how I was going to start questioning the low lifes that I caught asking them what was up and see if something floated to the top.