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( Cut for TL;DR about bad dreams and suchlike )
Knowing that he's not going to be getting any more sleep tonight, Giles gets himself dressed as quietly as he can and leaves his room. Courtesy and care for his flatmates means that he's quiet as he can be, distressed as he is. They might still hear him. They might already have heard him. But Giles does his best, ducking out to the kitchen to make tea and closing the front door softly behind him.
The tea doesn't help, doesn't calm, doesn't soothe. The scent of the rising steam just makes him remember his dreams more powerfully, words and captured snapshots rising to his mind even as he tries to forget them, tries to let them fade into nothing like dreams should. His hands start to shake, until finally one wrong move knocks the mug over, spilling tea all over the table.
Giles' journal, sitting nearby, turns itself on in time for anyone still conscious to hear Giles swear at the mess before hurrying to grab enough paper towels to clean it up.]
Damn it!
[Silence for another few seconds, the quiet of the last calm before a storm. When Giles' voice comes over the journal again, he sounds as though he's desperately trying not to break down.]
I'm not insane. I'm not, I can't be...
This is ridiculous. I don't want to save the world. I can't even take care of my own children.
This isn't like Halloween. This isn't the same.
Why is this happening now?
[The relative quiet is broken by the sound of the mug shattering, Giles having just hurled it violently against the nearest wall. The accidental transmission ends there.
He spends the rest of the night working on the boat. It's positioned far enough away from the back of CH7 to hopefully not disturb anyone this late. Exhaustion and anxiety mean that Giles makes a few mistakes in his work, but not many. It isn't the first time he's had to build a boat, after all.
The sun has started to rise before he picks up his journal again, and this time it's to turn on the video function. Anyone who notices the feed will see that Giles appears to have it trained on some sort of...creature, while standing at a respectable distance. The creature is monster, in every sense of the word. The beast is sniffing around at the edge of the treeline, paying him no need at first. Even when it does finally look up at him, it's only to let out a threatening growl. Giles flinches back - the beast returns to whatever is occupying its attention and, in a few minutes, has made its way deeper into the forest.
Giles doesn't follow - his voice over the journal is a mixture of hushed fascination and fear.]
My god...
Knowing that he's not going to be getting any more sleep tonight, Giles gets himself dressed as quietly as he can and leaves his room. Courtesy and care for his flatmates means that he's quiet as he can be, distressed as he is. They might still hear him. They might already have heard him. But Giles does his best, ducking out to the kitchen to make tea and closing the front door softly behind him.
The tea doesn't help, doesn't calm, doesn't soothe. The scent of the rising steam just makes him remember his dreams more powerfully, words and captured snapshots rising to his mind even as he tries to forget them, tries to let them fade into nothing like dreams should. His hands start to shake, until finally one wrong move knocks the mug over, spilling tea all over the table.
Giles' journal, sitting nearby, turns itself on in time for anyone still conscious to hear Giles swear at the mess before hurrying to grab enough paper towels to clean it up.]
Damn it!
[Silence for another few seconds, the quiet of the last calm before a storm. When Giles' voice comes over the journal again, he sounds as though he's desperately trying not to break down.]
I'm not insane. I'm not, I can't be...
This is ridiculous. I don't want to save the world. I can't even take care of my own children.
This isn't like Halloween. This isn't the same.
Why is this happening now?
[The relative quiet is broken by the sound of the mug shattering, Giles having just hurled it violently against the nearest wall. The accidental transmission ends there.
He spends the rest of the night working on the boat. It's positioned far enough away from the back of CH7 to hopefully not disturb anyone this late. Exhaustion and anxiety mean that Giles makes a few mistakes in his work, but not many. It isn't the first time he's had to build a boat, after all.
The sun has started to rise before he picks up his journal again, and this time it's to turn on the video function. Anyone who notices the feed will see that Giles appears to have it trained on some sort of...creature, while standing at a respectable distance. The creature is monster, in every sense of the word. The beast is sniffing around at the edge of the treeline, paying him no need at first. Even when it does finally look up at him, it's only to let out a threatening growl. Giles flinches back - the beast returns to whatever is occupying its attention and, in a few minutes, has made its way deeper into the forest.
Giles doesn't follow - his voice over the journal is a mixture of hushed fascination and fear.]
My god...
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