Post by Soldier 76 on Aug 31, 2017 3:32:43 GMT
There was a specific discomfort to Reginold, a feeling of uncertainty right in the pit of his stomach. Enoch had synced up with his home bound counterpart; the perimeter was clear, of the many little bots only 3 remained active indicating some hadn't managed to get to a charging station in some time. At least he knew they hadn't been smashed to bits, all the cameras in the house showed things in a strangely pristine state...footage from history showed his cousin coming in and dusting, vacuuming and checking on this and that. She'd visit at least once a month, often twice.
He'd seen a few little parties, her husband, and their now much older boys. Strange, they were around the same age as Reginold would have been. At least someone had made use of the home for something.
The Doctor had been brief in his correspondence with her, that he was going to be back after all this time. She'd been thrilled hoping to meet up and catch up. Maybe later, he'd said. Maybe later. How hollow it sounded, it was still so dangerous to even be going home, let alone having his family involved.
Reginold head was so much clearer with the new chip installed, his gauntlets back online. They'd stepped off the train, with only their light belongings, briefly staying in a motel before catching the bus. And now, 3 hours later they stood in front of his home. Reginold reached out and touched the metal door, letting his fingers explore the fresh paint. How well maintained his home had been kept. He took a deep breath, lilacs, and roses; his ex-wife had insisted on them for landscaping. He quite liked the fragrance and hadn't really complained. "Enoch...unlock the door..." he said softly to the droid. The mechanism clicked and he turned the knob slowly as if savoring the sensation. The door swung open, lights coming on.
"Welcome home, Dr. Shepard; will your guest be staying long?" asked the voice Enoch had chosen, pleasant but dry. Reginold stepped into the middle of the foyer. To the right, stairs to the upper level and a glass door to some kind of den, the left a dining room, and forward the kitchen. There was more beyond that. The house was large, spacious with an open sort of layout every room touched all others with few walls. The decor was clean, sensible but not utilitarian. The colors on the walls went from deep red to soft sands as they changed rooms. He stood a long moment, closing his eyes. "Dr. Shepard?"
"Don't worry about a Guest room, Enoch," he replied to this home bound incarnation, a more limited intelligence to the droids.
"As you like sir."
Then it was quiet, Reginold for a moment seemed stuck, as if moving from this place would break some illusion. He'd had so many dreams where one step towards the stairs or the kitchen caused it to fall apart. Finally the will took him and he dropped any luggage still in his hands, walking forward, and down the slight hall. On the right wall a door to the basement. He stopped in the kitchen, reaching his hand out to feel over the butcher's board topped island, feeling marks of a knife there. A stainless steel fridge, gas range, double oven; everything a home chef could want.
He drew his hand away, looking over at the Living room, pristine. With a comfortable deep purple paint job, contrasted by cream colored furniture and rich cherry wood table and entertainment center; he sort of drifted towards it. Well not the room really, the lovely glass enclosed case, full of shelves. The shelves full of little porcelain figurines, just as he'd said. Reginolds hands sort of hovered on the knobs that would pull the glass paned, wooden doors open. He let them go, and stepped away; avoiding running his legs against any of the furniture.
It was very strange to watch him move through the house, like experiencing a museum, everything an artifact of a long ago time. He didn't make any eye contact with Mantis as he passed back through the foyer, hesitating at the stairs.
He'd seen a few little parties, her husband, and their now much older boys. Strange, they were around the same age as Reginold would have been. At least someone had made use of the home for something.
The Doctor had been brief in his correspondence with her, that he was going to be back after all this time. She'd been thrilled hoping to meet up and catch up. Maybe later, he'd said. Maybe later. How hollow it sounded, it was still so dangerous to even be going home, let alone having his family involved.
Reginold head was so much clearer with the new chip installed, his gauntlets back online. They'd stepped off the train, with only their light belongings, briefly staying in a motel before catching the bus. And now, 3 hours later they stood in front of his home. Reginold reached out and touched the metal door, letting his fingers explore the fresh paint. How well maintained his home had been kept. He took a deep breath, lilacs, and roses; his ex-wife had insisted on them for landscaping. He quite liked the fragrance and hadn't really complained. "Enoch...unlock the door..." he said softly to the droid. The mechanism clicked and he turned the knob slowly as if savoring the sensation. The door swung open, lights coming on.
"Welcome home, Dr. Shepard; will your guest be staying long?" asked the voice Enoch had chosen, pleasant but dry. Reginold stepped into the middle of the foyer. To the right, stairs to the upper level and a glass door to some kind of den, the left a dining room, and forward the kitchen. There was more beyond that. The house was large, spacious with an open sort of layout every room touched all others with few walls. The decor was clean, sensible but not utilitarian. The colors on the walls went from deep red to soft sands as they changed rooms. He stood a long moment, closing his eyes. "Dr. Shepard?"
"Don't worry about a Guest room, Enoch," he replied to this home bound incarnation, a more limited intelligence to the droids.
"As you like sir."
Then it was quiet, Reginold for a moment seemed stuck, as if moving from this place would break some illusion. He'd had so many dreams where one step towards the stairs or the kitchen caused it to fall apart. Finally the will took him and he dropped any luggage still in his hands, walking forward, and down the slight hall. On the right wall a door to the basement. He stopped in the kitchen, reaching his hand out to feel over the butcher's board topped island, feeling marks of a knife there. A stainless steel fridge, gas range, double oven; everything a home chef could want.
He drew his hand away, looking over at the Living room, pristine. With a comfortable deep purple paint job, contrasted by cream colored furniture and rich cherry wood table and entertainment center; he sort of drifted towards it. Well not the room really, the lovely glass enclosed case, full of shelves. The shelves full of little porcelain figurines, just as he'd said. Reginolds hands sort of hovered on the knobs that would pull the glass paned, wooden doors open. He let them go, and stepped away; avoiding running his legs against any of the furniture.
It was very strange to watch him move through the house, like experiencing a museum, everything an artifact of a long ago time. He didn't make any eye contact with Mantis as he passed back through the foyer, hesitating at the stairs.
