Date: 2016-06-30 07:04 am (UTC)
thecanarylives: (tank)
For a group of so-called time masters, life on the Waverider could be strangely domestic at times. Crossing time and space actually took longer than one might assume, and without Netflix or the internet or television in general to pass the time, things were... quiet.

The nice kind of quiet. A quiet Sara could get used to. Filling her time playing cards with Len, training with Kendra, pretending to understand when Ray and Martin started in on one of their physics debates. It was starting to feel like... home. A concept she hadn't truly felt in longer than she'd like to admit.

She thought. But lately, things had felt... off. Like the feeling of homesickness, but not for Star City. Like the feeling of mourning, but she didn't know for whom. Every day she thought it might shake off - like a bad dream that had its hooks in a little too deep. But every day it got a little worse. The loneliness. The heartache.

It occurred to her - perhaps a little late - that maybe Mick had been getting the same feeling, too. He'd been moody lately. Cooped up in his quarters, avoiding the rest of the group. She caught him finally on a snack run in the middle of the night, when the rest of the team was asleep. She hadn't been sleeping much either lately.

"Pancakes?" She leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over her chest. "Tell me you've got bacon to go with them."
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Mick Rory

May 2021

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