FOOTNOTES ARE NOT NECESSARY TO READ THOUGH THEY ARE FILLED WITH HELPFUL, INTERESTING INFORMATION. PLEASE DO NOT FEEL OBLIGATED TO READ THEM, BUT IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO KNOW MORE BACKGROUND INFORMATION ABOUT THE CHARACTERS INVOLVED, I WOULD RECOMMEND READING IT. THANK YOU FOR READING.
*This chapter is in Tegan’s point of view. I mentioned in the previous chapters’ footnotes that grammar plays a big part in Tegan’s POV. As Tegan is a writer, she is very sensitive to her grammar, and this shows. In America, we use words like ‘apartment, or bar’, things like that. In Europe, however, they use grammar as ‘loft, or pub’ and things like that. Gradually, Tegan’s grammar will shift from American to European, and this shows that, subconsciously, Tegan is beginning to accept Cardiff as her new home. In the third paragraph, Tegan consciously refers to America as her home. However, in the very same paragraph, she uses European grammar. This causes a sense of vague denial, and it shows how rapidly Tegan can truly adjust to the situations around her. This is a trait that many Torchwood members need in the field. (hehe, I’m training Tegan…) In the seventh paragraph, Tegan running to find out a mystery. Most people would just shrug about these occurrences, and move on. Tegan is a strong-willed, curious person, and when she feels she doesn’t have control over something, she investigates. This is also the Torchwood agent type of behavior, as she would need to pick out details and investigate throughly. In paragraph eight, I tried to make it seem as if, when she had been near the sidewalk, the hub defenses had acted as a retcon to her, and it stationed itself in Tegan’s brain. So even though the bar was right in front of her the entire time, her brain made her skip over it repeatly to protect those memories of Jack. Then, just as she was leaving, her brain put down it’s defenses, and that was the moment she spotted the bar. This shows just how much will power Tegan has, and how she’s willing to fight her own mind for answers. This will come into play later on in the series, and is yet another trait sutible for Torchwood. In the second to last chapter, the bar is closed. I figured that I would have to scoot in some of real life’s prediciments, just to make it sound more believible. I also don’t want her to remember it all that fast, and I’m planning on different cercumstances to bring Tegan and Torchwood together. Wow. This was a realllly long footnotes. Sorry. hehe. ^^
**Read previous chapters’ footnotes.
Three Days (ch.7)
Three days. I’ve spent three days, alone in my loft, doors and windows
closed, dreaming only of the saddest eyes, eyes belonging to a god. I
don’t remember where I’ve seen these eyes before, only that I’d
followed them to a strange sidewalk.
I can barely remember that day.** I know that I had gone into town for
some food, and I had walked into a pub….
Was it at the pub that I saw those painful eyes? And how did I end up
at the sidewalk? I consider this as I lie in the center of my bed,
curled up in the feeble position, with the covers and blankets all
around me. Four blankets, as Cardiff is so much colder than my home.* I
should probably let back some of the blankets. It’s hard to breathe.
The pub. What happened there? And where did I see those eyes?
I remember a voice, American, and it says something to me. Where did I
hear this voice?
The voice, those eyes, the pub… The pub. It all happened at the pub.
I jump out of bed suddenly, scrambling to untangle my limbs from the
sheets and hurriedly dressing myself. I have to go to the pub. I have
to see this god’s eyes again. I have to know, what made me forget?
I’m ready in seeming seconds and I’m running out the door, hurtling
towards the pub.* The closer I get to the halfway point, I slow until
the string of restaurants and bars thicken. A vision is in my mind;
black wooden doors and the stench of alcohol.
Twenty minutes pass of staring at the same doors and I was about to
give up. Then, just as I was turning to leave, I saw the black wooden
doors of my dream. They were exactly the same—there was no mistake.
The pub was right in front of me—right in the middle of the street.* I
must have staring at this street for hours, so how did I not see or
smell what was right in front if me?
I move slowly and cautiously towards the doors. The smell of alcohol
and my memories intensify as I close in on my target. When I finally
get there, I tug on the door handle—only to not have the door open. I
tug again, same result. I glance at the sign—today it’s closed.* Damn.
I fish my lucky own and notebook out of my backpack and right
down a few quick notes of what happened, then at the top I write, in
bold, large letters, ‘read me.’ I am not going to forget this. I also
write down the hours and plan to come back Tuesday.
I smile at my progress at retreat back to my loft, where I sit down
and write my new book—the mysteriousblue eyes. I smile once again.
I will find you, my sad-eyed warlord. I promise.
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