It's good to get out of the exotics room. He's been trying to keep to himself in there, not to pace like an animal, not to make any noise when he has an episode. He relies heavily on Ratchet and Kaidan and the pillow that Gail brought him, tracing the patterns of embroidery and memorizing every little stone sewn onto it for focus. It helps, and he's getting better at dealing at least. The Cetagandans finally brought him their scans of his implant and it looks... dead. Completely inactive, which explains what he's going through but also tells him that he is, truly, alone in his head for the time being. Nothing to be doing about it but deal. And distract himself.
He can be found wandering the halls, examining the art. Or in the mess hall, picking at the elegant food with an appreciation for its creation if not its taste. Sometimes he's just on his bunk in the exotics room, going through the information the Cetagandans have provided them on their history and culture, and what they know of the Barrayarans. He still feels like they're attempting to colonize, like Zahal's words are just like those of humans who took over over cultures for their own gain. Even if he believes what he's saying. On the bright side York doesn't feel like a prisoner anymore and it improves his mood. He'll be in the common room sometimes, socializing with the Cetagandans as well as the exotics, wanting to learn to play the foreign games. And of course he's in the exercise room often, training. He can't afford to let himself slack off, especially if they wind up thrown into the war -- which he suspects is going to happen, even if he hasn't decided what side he'll be on. He takes full advantage of their new freedoms.
b. outside
Getting out of the compound is even better, even though it's cold. He's borrowed a jacket to just stand outside, enjoying the fresh air and what view there is. Mostly just snow and trees and mountains, but it's something. He leans back against the building and watches his breath turn to mist, and if he closes his eyes he can feel the breeze on his face and imagine he's somewhere else.
york; open to cetas
It's good to get out of the exotics room. He's been trying to keep to himself in there, not to pace like an animal, not to make any noise when he has an episode. He relies heavily on Ratchet and Kaidan and the pillow that Gail brought him, tracing the patterns of embroidery and memorizing every little stone sewn onto it for focus. It helps, and he's getting better at dealing at least. The Cetagandans finally brought him their scans of his implant and it looks... dead. Completely inactive, which explains what he's going through but also tells him that he is, truly, alone in his head for the time being. Nothing to be doing about it but deal. And distract himself.
He can be found wandering the halls, examining the art. Or in the mess hall, picking at the elegant food with an appreciation for its creation if not its taste. Sometimes he's just on his bunk in the exotics room, going through the information the Cetagandans have provided them on their history and culture, and what they know of the Barrayarans. He still feels like they're attempting to colonize, like Zahal's words are just like those of humans who took over over cultures for their own gain. Even if he believes what he's saying. On the bright side York doesn't feel like a prisoner anymore and it improves his mood. He'll be in the common room sometimes, socializing with the Cetagandans as well as the exotics, wanting to learn to play the foreign games. And of course he's in the exercise room often, training. He can't afford to let himself slack off, especially if they wind up thrown into the war -- which he suspects is going to happen, even if he hasn't decided what side he'll be on. He takes full advantage of their new freedoms.
b. outside
Getting out of the compound is even better, even though it's cold. He's borrowed a jacket to just stand outside, enjoying the fresh air and what view there is. Mostly just snow and trees and mountains, but it's something. He leans back against the building and watches his breath turn to mist, and if he closes his eyes he can feel the breeze on his face and imagine he's somewhere else.