Maybe we're all crazy on the inside || Vina

Quell sat on the side of the hill, his hands on his knees, his face placid. He didn't know why he was here, sitting lazily on the moist grass, instead of doing something important. Quell always seemed to be rushing around these days, but it was as if his world had slowed down too. And yet, Quell felt like he was getting nothing done - like his life was a treadmill that never slowed down. No matter how fast he walked, he'd still be too slow. Still get nothing done.

Quell felt an empty sense of dejavu, sitting here. It wasn't like Quell had actually been here before, but his entire life just felt like a memory nowadays. Like he was living in a pensive, in some one else's memory and everyone was speeding around him but his speed was only subjective to the world.

He had things to do; he had to organize the cabin, he had inspection to clean up for, he had a capture the flag game to plan. Yet Quell felt peaceful sitting here. Maybe not peaceful, more serene. His life was anything but peaceful; Quell doubted his life would ever be anything but peaceful. After sitting for several more seconds, Quell decided to do what he'd always done; get back up again.

As he started to walk down the hill, his legs stiff (one trailing slightly behind the other), Quell felt something behind him. He turned around, only to find himself staring into a very familiar face. A very, very familiar face.