The Grandfather of the Reunion

Act 2-6

Tragedy befallen

Starting first memory playback with: Diary entry of certain day

{August 30th}

Is it me, or is it starting to get hot? To clear things up, no, Talulah is not beside me as I write this.

I think Spring is just right around the corner. Weird, I never felt winter this deadpan before, but perhaps it's because of the coil's protective dome that deterred snow? Anyways, back to all seriousness.

We established diplomatic relations with both the Commune and the Academy—to make this less of a mouthful, I will now refer to them with those pronouns.

It's not hard to convince Gordon to go and act as an envoy for the Commune, but we had to make a compromise to not piss off someone in our group—Lyudmila would accompany him when he goes to...do chores for the Commune as a way to level our relationship.

I don't have much to do, and I sent most of my survivors to do duties, go to the Academy to teach, or the Commune to aid Gordon. A few faction deserters, and stranded survivors came, and now they're helping out with the menial duties maintaining our own fort.

Things are looking up, and I wish to celebrate this by going to the Academy, and watch Eno's first game. Negan did pit him up to play football, and he's quite good at doing it. I left Talulah and AJ to take care of everything from here.

Perhaps I should address the former about her feelings towards me—I wish to take things slow with her, because she's being too forward with her impulses right now. I mean, she wanted me to sleep over with her, she tried to kiss me...twice, and frequently my body temperature warms up...because she kept hugging me.

I don't mind, but AJ is starting to acknowledge this scandal. If she keeps this up, it might ruin her reputation among the group, and I don't want that.

I'm done blabbering my hand with this entry; any more and Talulah might burn it when she reads it. Time to head to the pitch, and cheer on my son while destroying my throat screaming his name like a very proud father...

I do wonder what Sasha's curricular is... Hopefully archery?

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Starting second memory playback with: A different perspective for enhanced serotonin dose

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The hot sun pours down on the pitch, brightening and glistening off the shiny grass. Thanks to the protective dome, the heat wasn't bad enough to cause someone to collapse from heat stroke.

There are boys studded in football pads and jerseys tackling each other, and passing an oblong shaped ball on the large field. It has been happening for about fifteen minutes, so these kids have a stamina of a cross-country runner.

Down at the stands, where reserved players sit and wait for them to be called, is a pale-skinned boy with white thick hair. Thick enough to engulf his ears and the back part of his head. His pads are a little too big for him, which causes him to comically fix it up every time he felt it falls off. Beside him are two larger kids, helping him fix his falling off pads, and having a conversation with him. He holds his white football helmet on his hands, and seems to stare at it like it's some kind of beloved family portrait.