[ Gen had barely waited a few days after their return from Venera before contacting Eustace and asking -- or rather, demanding -- that they resume training as usual. 'My balance feels fucked up,' was what he'd grumbled while looking aside, trying to keep his voice as flat as possible. 'Gotta get used to that shit. Who knows when more shit's going to go down.'
In truth, it's less that Gen is a diligent trainee -- because he's not, he's really not, diligent is not a word that would ever be truly fitting for him -- and more that he needs a distraction. Something to keep him from sinking into the deep quagmire of thoughts swirling about his head, exacerbated by a steady string of information that he can't escape or ignore. (The presence of prisoners that had been captured. Word of what exactly had happened in Godsblood. And then that public display.) Whatever will help him keep his thoughts away from those subjects will do. And these morning training sessions with Eustace are something he's gotten used to. They're reliable, they're exhausting, they help him completely empty his mind, and ... he'd never admit it out loud, but he's come to find some comfort in the quiet reliability of Eustace's presence. They're one of his favorite methods.
So. Early in the morning following the unsettling public debut of those prisoners, Eustace should find Gen on their usual training field. Although ... instead of stretching and pacing about restlessly as he usually does when he arrives before Eustace, this time Gen is seated on one of the fieldside benches. Clearly dozing.
At least he jolts awake with a muffled grunt the moment he hears the grit of footsteps on the field, blinking drowsily as he tries to focus his gaze on Eustace. ]
... hey.
[ His voice sounds muzzy with stubborn traces of sleep, and Gen wobbles on his feet as he hauls himself upright, scuffing a hand over his face. He's obviously been sleeping incredibly poorly as of late, but that doesn't really matter. (Did he end up walking here at the crack of dawn after speaking to Abel because there was no way he could go back to sleep? Maybe. It's fine.) ]
for EUSTACE.
In truth, it's less that Gen is a diligent trainee -- because he's not, he's really not, diligent is not a word that would ever be truly fitting for him -- and more that he needs a distraction. Something to keep him from sinking into the deep quagmire of thoughts swirling about his head, exacerbated by a steady string of information that he can't escape or ignore. (The presence of prisoners that had been captured. Word of what exactly had happened in Godsblood. And then that public display.) Whatever will help him keep his thoughts away from those subjects will do. And these morning training sessions with Eustace are something he's gotten used to. They're reliable, they're exhausting, they help him completely empty his mind, and ... he'd never admit it out loud, but he's come to find some comfort in the quiet reliability of Eustace's presence. They're one of his favorite methods.
So. Early in the morning following the unsettling public debut of those prisoners, Eustace should find Gen on their usual training field. Although ... instead of stretching and pacing about restlessly as he usually does when he arrives before Eustace, this time Gen is seated on one of the fieldside benches. Clearly dozing.
At least he jolts awake with a muffled grunt the moment he hears the grit of footsteps on the field, blinking drowsily as he tries to focus his gaze on Eustace. ]
... hey.
[ His voice sounds muzzy with stubborn traces of sleep, and Gen wobbles on his feet as he hauls himself upright, scuffing a hand over his face. He's obviously been sleeping incredibly poorly as of late, but that doesn't really matter. (Did he end up walking here at the crack of dawn after speaking to Abel because there was no way he could go back to sleep? Maybe. It's fine.) ]