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hadriel_logs2017-12-14 07:13 am
circumitus) wrote in hadriel_logs2017-12-14 07:13 am
Entry tags:
buckshot is my bread; i'll drink whiskey instead of water.
Who: Rey and close CR/semi-OPEN.
What: In the wake of the Null attack, Rey tries to deal with current events by straight up not dealing at all.
Where: Robot House (1401).
When: Catch-all for December. Please put the date in the subject line!
Warnings: Poor coping mechanisms, depression, anger, suicidal ideations, starvation, fun stuff like that.
Note: As of December 12th, Rey will temporarily be without network access until further notice.
Not long after the light of the twin suns peeked through the cracks of every window did Rey do everything in her power remedy this new situation. Having lost Maketh and so much more than that has left a hole in her chest that she can't quite bring herself to even try and fill, and the sun is the last sensation she wants on her skin. Can't drag herself off the floor and go about business as usual, either. Can't do much of anything.
At first it comes in bursts of anger. Screaming and clawing at her own arms. Whatever pain and damage done to herself only heals again in a matter of hours -- sometimes days, before there is a risk of anyone noticing. Her selective healing has its benefits, depending on one's perspective.
Not that Rey gives one much opportunity to stop by and notice. The windows of her room are blackened with layers of opaque cloth, boards sealing them shut from any unwanted visitors peeking inside. The bed pins to the sliding door, leading to that balcony connecting the neighboring bedroom; its mattress props up to serve as a barricade from prying eyes.
In a sense, she's created her own tomb; a place for her to curl up and die. Food is far from her mind, and with the prospect of a shortage in sight, it's decided that any supplies are better passed on the likes of her.
She's no good to anyone, least of all herself.
At least Nick has been kept busy with the Guard, given his new rank. She hates to think of the circumstances that got him there, but he's had more than enough to deal with without Rey piling onto the stack. Though it probably didn't take long for the synthetic detective to figure out why Rey wasn't answering any messages, why her presence on the network has been nonexistent, why she's made herself so scarce. It didn't take a private eye to notice the discarded device floating in a concoction that has since liquefied in the kitchen blender. In a passing moment of blind anger and grief, Rey severed her ties to the outside. She knew the apologies and grievances that would follow Maketh's death, and if she could lay here and pretend that things are still okay, that she will wake up tomorrow and things will somehow be different, that they will work themselves out one way or another...
What did she do wrong? It isn't something Rey thinks about much, simply because she usually knows the answer already. But now the answer is muddled. Clouded. Her head a fog. And maybe it's from the extended hours of sleep, of nothing but sleep; the days of not eating or drinking, barely parting from her dark room to handle some of the personal necessities she has deemed worth tending to, she just hasn't been able to think. And yet she's had too much time to think.
Maybe she's hoping for another dream again. A fantasy to play out so that she can at least find an illusion of peace. In some sick twist, she would rather be on a battlefield than this, surrounded by the music of gunfire and mortar and the smell of smoke and blood. Give her something tangible, something that she can hurt and kill. Send her anywhere but the prison of her own head, harrowed by affliction and terrible memories.
Strange, how she hasn't cried. The tears are there, close to the precipice, and yet she can't cry. To most, Maketh is just gone home. For Rey, the truth is much more grim than that.
So she lays there, curled up on the floor of her black room. Buried under a mountain of blankets and the weight of guilt. Anyone able to push through the door will immediately notice a lump on the floor, in the middle of the bedroom. Sometimes that lump stirs in sleep, unwilling to wake at the slightest hint of intrusion. And sometimes her feral instincts want blood between her teeth, to find something that she can claw and stab and tear apart.
It's been a long time since she's eaten now. What supply water she has acquired from her first day has been stored in stacks inside the closet, along with a cache of liquor from the Speakeasy. She won't be making any pitstops at her establishment, so she might as well stock up on the only thing she wants while she can.
Even if that desire will ultimately destroy her, she can't find a reason to give a damn anymore.
What: In the wake of the Null attack, Rey tries to deal with current events by straight up not dealing at all.
Where: Robot House (1401).
When: Catch-all for December. Please put the date in the subject line!
Warnings: Poor coping mechanisms, depression, anger, suicidal ideations, starvation, fun stuff like that.
Note: As of December 12th, Rey will temporarily be without network access until further notice.
Not long after the light of the twin suns peeked through the cracks of every window did Rey do everything in her power remedy this new situation. Having lost Maketh and so much more than that has left a hole in her chest that she can't quite bring herself to even try and fill, and the sun is the last sensation she wants on her skin. Can't drag herself off the floor and go about business as usual, either. Can't do much of anything.
At first it comes in bursts of anger. Screaming and clawing at her own arms. Whatever pain and damage done to herself only heals again in a matter of hours -- sometimes days, before there is a risk of anyone noticing. Her selective healing has its benefits, depending on one's perspective.
Not that Rey gives one much opportunity to stop by and notice. The windows of her room are blackened with layers of opaque cloth, boards sealing them shut from any unwanted visitors peeking inside. The bed pins to the sliding door, leading to that balcony connecting the neighboring bedroom; its mattress props up to serve as a barricade from prying eyes.
In a sense, she's created her own tomb; a place for her to curl up and die. Food is far from her mind, and with the prospect of a shortage in sight, it's decided that any supplies are better passed on the likes of her.
She's no good to anyone, least of all herself.
At least Nick has been kept busy with the Guard, given his new rank. She hates to think of the circumstances that got him there, but he's had more than enough to deal with without Rey piling onto the stack. Though it probably didn't take long for the synthetic detective to figure out why Rey wasn't answering any messages, why her presence on the network has been nonexistent, why she's made herself so scarce. It didn't take a private eye to notice the discarded device floating in a concoction that has since liquefied in the kitchen blender. In a passing moment of blind anger and grief, Rey severed her ties to the outside. She knew the apologies and grievances that would follow Maketh's death, and if she could lay here and pretend that things are still okay, that she will wake up tomorrow and things will somehow be different, that they will work themselves out one way or another...
What did she do wrong? It isn't something Rey thinks about much, simply because she usually knows the answer already. But now the answer is muddled. Clouded. Her head a fog. And maybe it's from the extended hours of sleep, of nothing but sleep; the days of not eating or drinking, barely parting from her dark room to handle some of the personal necessities she has deemed worth tending to, she just hasn't been able to think. And yet she's had too much time to think.
Maybe she's hoping for another dream again. A fantasy to play out so that she can at least find an illusion of peace. In some sick twist, she would rather be on a battlefield than this, surrounded by the music of gunfire and mortar and the smell of smoke and blood. Give her something tangible, something that she can hurt and kill. Send her anywhere but the prison of her own head, harrowed by affliction and terrible memories.
Strange, how she hasn't cried. The tears are there, close to the precipice, and yet she can't cry. To most, Maketh is just gone home. For Rey, the truth is much more grim than that.
So she lays there, curled up on the floor of her black room. Buried under a mountain of blankets and the weight of guilt. Anyone able to push through the door will immediately notice a lump on the floor, in the middle of the bedroom. Sometimes that lump stirs in sleep, unwilling to wake at the slightest hint of intrusion. And sometimes her feral instincts want blood between her teeth, to find something that she can claw and stab and tear apart.
It's been a long time since she's eaten now. What supply water she has acquired from her first day has been stored in stacks inside the closet, along with a cache of liquor from the Speakeasy. She won't be making any pitstops at her establishment, so she might as well stock up on the only thing she wants while she can.
Even if that desire will ultimately destroy her, she can't find a reason to give a damn anymore.
no subject
"I'm coming in!" He pauses several seconds to give her time to flee or tell him to fuck off if she's not decent. Then he clenches his teeth together and turns the knob, keeping his eyes downcast just in case.
Hm. Not there.
He casts his eyes around the house, looking for any signs of a struggle.
"Rey? Uh, I let myself in..."
He makes his way through the house, knocking on each door he finds.
no subject
Given that it's just Firo, Rey isn't so swift to remove the intruder from her home. She isn't happy that he's there, and doesn't rush to greet him, either. She hasn't eaten in a few days, and though that isn't enough to drain her energy completely, already she is feeling the early effects. Fatigue and irritability being one of them.
It's the room closest to the entrance that Rey resides in. And, if Firo tries, he might find that the knob would turn but the door doesn't budge. Not when there's a heavy dresser blocking it.
If she doesn't speak, maybe he'll go away. She can only hope so, nails digging into her arm and feeling blood rise underneath them, through her fingers.
no subject
He circles back to the first door, intending to be a little rougher in trying them all again. "Are you in here? Look, In 10 seconds I'm gonna open this up, so you'd better tell me now."
He'll ask for forgiveness later, but he's too worried not to get pushy.
True to his word, when the 10 seconds are up, he goes for it. He can turn the knob, but the door won't open, and that's when he does start getting really concerned about foul play.
"Hey! I swear to god, if you're in there, you'd better open up!" He's no longer talking just to Rey now but to whomever may be killing or torturing her in that barricaded room right now.
no subject
Of course, she didn't help matters much by going silent in the wake of the Null's attack. She didn't necessarily take measures to fool people into thinking that she's okay, but why should she? It isn't like the people who up and disappear every month extend the same luxury. They don't tell you that they're going to be okay, that everything is fine, and then leave your life forever.
There are several flaws with her line of thinking, but her thoughts have been twisted and winding and ending up in all sorts of messed up places. Anything to justify her absence from the world, despite people probably needing help now more than ever.
She needed help. And when it would have mattered the most, it's gone.
In a sick, lingering moment, she wishes someone had come right in here and killed her. It'd have at least saved her the trouble.
"Still here," Rey shouts at the door when she notices it moving. "Now fuck off!"
no subject
He sighs and leans one shoulder on the door, trying to pretend his knees aren't a little weak with relief.
"What're you doing? I've been looking for you!"
As if she may not have heard all the shouting and knocking.
no subject
For several seconds, she doesn't answer. Doesn't know how to answer. She rubs her face over her eyes, taking in deep and shaky breaths.
"Not feeling well," she says in what has got to be the biggest understatement of the year. "Won't be at the bar for a while. Just go."
no subject
In his experience, sick people usually don't barricade their rooms; and now that he knows someone else probably didn't do it, that's the only reason he can figure for this.
no subject
There's a difference.
"So just leave me alone."
no subject
He sighs and rests his palm flat on the door. "So what is it?"
no subject
She sighs, running her hands down her face.
"Can you, just, fucking... not do this shit right now?" Rey chokes out.
no subject
Yes, mostly he's trying to be a smartass. But in all honesty, he does feel like he's doing nothing right now, like he's some useless brat.
"And, you know, I'd like it a whole lot if you'd quit what you're doing too. But it doesn't seem like you're gonna do that, huh?"
no subject
Dark rings circle around her eyes as Rey squints at the slight sign of light peeking through the sliver of an opening. Although she might have slept for more than a couple days, she looks like she's been worked through hell.
"No," she finally tells him. Her mouth tightens. "I just... need some time. To recover, from all the shit."
no subject
"And solitary confinement's what you need to make yourself recover? You know, that's used as a punishment, not a treatment."
Firo didn't spend much time in the Hole at Alcatraz, but he can see why it drives people mad. Though Rey may not be plunging herself into that dungeon with its complete darkness, Firo thinks that the isolation component isn't too far off.
no subject
His suspicions aren't too far from the truth. Her isolation has been more of a voluntary punishment inflicted on herself, coupled with the many wounds she's made on her skin. Wounds that she intends to never take further than this dark room if she can help it.
no subject
He acknowledges that it's a possibility even as he keeps his voice light and joking. He'll cross that bridge when he comes to it if she really is punishing herself for something like that--but he'd bet that that's not it. At least, that's not all of it.
He needs to get to the bottom of this--and as he does, he hopes that keeping her talking will allow him time to try to coax her out of there.
no subject
But it's not all right. Nothing is. All the more reason why she can't go out and pretend like nothing happened. Can't act as though it doesn't hurt.
no subject
He shrugs. This just can't be helped, Rey--Firo needs to be here, and apparently he assumes he has a right to be.
His casual mien, of course, is completely feigned, but he doesn't think he'll coax Rey out of there without some sort of strategy. As it stands now, his main idea is to put her at ease until he can figure out what that strategy actually is.
"Actually, I need to use your kitchen. Can you show me where it is?"
Says the guy who totally didn't walk by it to get here.
no subject
His question is met with suspicion, however, as this isn't the first time he's been over and the kitchen is hard to miss when you've been bustling about.
"You might be a lot of things, but you're not blind. I know you know where it is." She scoffs. "And if you want to use it, then go ahead. You don't need me to play fucking tour guide."
Even though she's very aware that that's not what he was playing at here. Sorry, bro.
no subject
His face and voice harden in an instant. "Get outta there. What's the point in shutting yourself up, huh?"
For a split second, he thinks of trying to reach out and tug on her arm, but he dismisses the thought. Caution doesn't come naturally to him--except when it's sorely warranted. He thinks it is now, and to push too much could be to have her slip back into that room entirely.
no subject
"I don't want to see anyone, all right?" Rey snaps, her head pulsing. "People just keep going. Like shit is okay but it's not actually okay. I'm not okay. It's just going to piss me off and I'll just snap and then really fucking kill someone, and no one wants that."
Or maybe they do, depending on the person.
no subject
That doesn't necessarily mean he won't say it, but for now he files that point away and decides to instead focus on getting to the bottom of this.
"What happened?"