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Entry tags:
[1] Video
(To be honest, he had completely forgotten about his communication device until he saw it sitting on his bed. He forgot about all of the contacts, the people he mostly didn't know. It's not until after the buried event that he even thinks to utilize this broad form of communication. Suddenly he sees the benefit in it, the reason why people might want to use this sort of thing beyond private talking.
So Newt's set it up and a feed of him sitting on a mattress on a floor begins to flow through to the network. He's in clean clothes and looks clean enough overall but his hands are covered in tightly wrapped bandages and he looks rather tired.)
Hi, everyone.
(He doesn't seem to be awkward at all. Like someone whose had to address groups of people before. There's no hesitance, no shift or uncertain pause of what to say next. He's already thought it through.)
My name's Newt. I haven't met most of you yet but that's okay. What I'm about to say applies to everyone, regardless of whether or not we know each other.
I know that everyone sort of just went through their own personal hell. Whether you were buried alive or looking for someone you care about- it sucks, it really sucks and I hope to God that we found everyone.
(His eyes roll upwards and he actually does look serious, looks genuinely pained at the idea that maybe they didn't. That maybe, just maybe, they had somehow missed someone. He doesn't linger on it though. This video has a point. He clears his throat and looks back to the camera and offers a slight grin.)
I know that the clinic has been helping people a lot. But - well, shock is a pretty nasty thing and it's a bloody reckoning waiting to happen if you're on your own too much. And not everyone's all too great about properly taking care of themselves when they're- they're bad off. I don't know if everyone has someone here to look out for them so- I don't know. Shuck it-
(He spreads his hands open and shrugs his shoulders.)
If you need something, let me know. I've made a load of sandwiches and don't mind bringing them over. Stew too. A lot of you are probably dead tired still so that's fine. I've got tea- and apparently my tea isn't too buggin' bad at all- and if you just need company...
(He puts his arms back down, fiddling with the bandages on his hand. The smile he offers is now a bit hesitant. It's a broad statement but he means it all the same. Being shocked can really hurt a person, deeper than some can even handle. Sometimes being alone is the worst thing for them and he gets that. He really, really does.)
I can sit around with you or talk to you through here. Doesn't matter to me. So here's hoping to everyone being okay. Anyway, see you lot around.
So Newt's set it up and a feed of him sitting on a mattress on a floor begins to flow through to the network. He's in clean clothes and looks clean enough overall but his hands are covered in tightly wrapped bandages and he looks rather tired.)
Hi, everyone.
(He doesn't seem to be awkward at all. Like someone whose had to address groups of people before. There's no hesitance, no shift or uncertain pause of what to say next. He's already thought it through.)
My name's Newt. I haven't met most of you yet but that's okay. What I'm about to say applies to everyone, regardless of whether or not we know each other.
I know that everyone sort of just went through their own personal hell. Whether you were buried alive or looking for someone you care about- it sucks, it really sucks and I hope to God that we found everyone.
(His eyes roll upwards and he actually does look serious, looks genuinely pained at the idea that maybe they didn't. That maybe, just maybe, they had somehow missed someone. He doesn't linger on it though. This video has a point. He clears his throat and looks back to the camera and offers a slight grin.)
I know that the clinic has been helping people a lot. But - well, shock is a pretty nasty thing and it's a bloody reckoning waiting to happen if you're on your own too much. And not everyone's all too great about properly taking care of themselves when they're- they're bad off. I don't know if everyone has someone here to look out for them so- I don't know. Shuck it-
(He spreads his hands open and shrugs his shoulders.)
If you need something, let me know. I've made a load of sandwiches and don't mind bringing them over. Stew too. A lot of you are probably dead tired still so that's fine. I've got tea- and apparently my tea isn't too buggin' bad at all- and if you just need company...
(He puts his arms back down, fiddling with the bandages on his hand. The smile he offers is now a bit hesitant. It's a broad statement but he means it all the same. Being shocked can really hurt a person, deeper than some can even handle. Sometimes being alone is the worst thing for them and he gets that. He really, really does.)
I can sit around with you or talk to you through here. Doesn't matter to me. So here's hoping to everyone being okay. Anyway, see you lot around.
no subject
He smiles rather instantly when she brightens up and it kind of makes him feel good to know that this girl cared about her brother. He liked that kind of thing.
He winds up laughing a little bit, imagining a bulk of a guy who was gentle as anything and oddly enough, he feels a swell of affection. He takes to other kids his own age quickly though. It's not a surprise.)
He sounds bloody magnificent. That's fantastic you're so close with him too. I can imagine he'd be quite protective of you.
(If he had a sibling, he'd be protective of them too. Instead, he had the Gladers and they were the only family he knew.
Which gives him some pause when she asks. Newt isn't sensitive about the memory thing, not really, but since his arrival in Hadriel he's come to realize he's probably one of the only people who knows barely anything due to it. It's frustrating at times. But it's harmless now. So, Newt eventually shrugs and shakes his head.)
I uh- actually have no idea. Before they put us into the Maze, they actually wiped our memories entirely. I only know my life from when I first woke up in the Maze til now.
(He taps his finger against the side of his temple.)
No bloody clue about anything before. Don't know if I have siblings or what my family was like or where I'm from. And half the time I don't even know what the bloody hell other people are talking about. I don't even know my real name or how old I am- though I suspect I'm somewhere around seventeen or eighteen. "Newt" is just a nickname the scientists gave me. For Isaac Newton. It's a dumb joke, in my opinion.