hadriel_logs | buckshot is my bread; i'll drink whiskey instead of water.

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

This type of child might not be very strong, but he is fast and has some really good reflexes. He also has been sleeping and eating well, unlike her. So, that hand, is taken by the wrist with extreme ease, not even in a forceful manner and more like if he were catching it.

Blood is always too bright, too scandalous, it obviously catches his attention. He keeps his grip on her wrist, staring at the wounds for a moment — he says nothing, he doesn't have to. Rey might miss it, but the look in his eyes says it all, he was too late, again, huh?

He gently lets her go, stands and leaves the room.

It doesn't register why Atem responds the way he does. The fact that her hand is cut up, that she suffers many others like it on her arms and body, is lost on her anyway. What she does in dream and what she does while awake have become one and the same, and nothing at all.

Her thoughts a fog, she decides that maybe Atem got the message loud and clear now. She doesn't want him here, or anyone for that matter.

The only thing that matters to her now is sleep.

And, her hand dropping to the floor, she shifts in her spot that she's made her 'bed' for the last few days and drifts back into silence. Sleep does come. Not all of them are nice. But it's a temporary escape, which is more than what she can expect in this place.

Minutes pass, who knows how long, and of course to Rey time might go unnoticed, by the time Atem makes it back she's fast asleep. He calls her name softly again, but she doesn't respond — he panics a little — only to notice she's just sleeping, and that's more than perfect for him, the least he wants is to upset her even more, so if she doesn't notice him being there... Well, it might beat the purpose of making her feel like she's not alone, but at least he can try to take care of that hand (and any other mishap he might find), he's gotten a lot of practice with his own after what happened with Yukari.

Not only he brought with him some of the supplies he had stored for his roommate in case his more than questionable habits got out of control, but he happened to stop by a pool (Tranquility's) and filled a couple of bottles with cool water. When he sits next to her again, he places one of them close, just to offer it when she happens to wake later.

Carefully, he risks to take that hand again, and with a clean, damp rag, he tries to clean the dry blood before bandaging it.

With the soft and quiet snores as an active indicator that Rey is still breathing, she doesn't stir when Atem returns.

Fatigue plagues her once again, and it's several hours before she manages to wake. By then, she'd have expected Atem to have made his leave. Why bother fretting over someone you don't even know for that long?

While not actively bleeding now, remnants of cuts on her body are more than evident from where Atem is sitting. In the dark, they're easier to miss, but when light is necessary to tend to the hole in her left hand, those self-inflicted marks she's kept hidden under the blanket are more than clear.

Her quiet breathing turns into rapid gasps of desperation. Despite not stirring much in her slumber, she begins muttering, her now bandaged hand curling into a fist so hard that blood soaks through the cloth.

The only light there is comes from the door, having left it open to be able to work on her at all, it might not be bright (and he wouldn't want it to be) but it's enough for him to eventually see the marks on her body. Atem realizes with dismay, that he doesn't have enough bandages for that...

Logic tries to take over the overwhelming sensation of dead that the sight brings with it. It is a reminder of Bakura all over again, bleeding from his chest, willingly allowing the Ring to rip through him and meanwhile, Atem was unable to help. He pushes the memory to some corner of his mind and focuses on her hand, on cleaning her arm, any trace of dried blood he can see in the escarse light, and when he's done, he makes sure to keep apart the used rags from the clean ones. It is when he's dampening a new one when he can feel her shifting, he sees her having some sort of dream, a nightmare, perhaps. Without giving it much thought, he places a hand on her head, gently running it along her hair.

"Shh... It's ok..." He whispers under his breath, bringing the clean rag over her face, attempting to clean off the sweat and dirt of the past days.

For someone who is supposed to be a light sleeper, who would normally jerk awake at the sound of a pin dropping, Atem works with an unresponsive subject.

It isn't until the memories warp, and the feeling of her body and mind being ripped to shreds that Rey feels her pulse quicken and her blood run cold. Her heart is hammering in her chest when she snaps awake, and just like that, every nerve and muscle in her body goes off like a gunshot.

While Atem attempts to soothe her, her heart hammers in her chest. Her vision flashes too fast for her to comprehend who this person in her line of sight is, before she shoots upright; the cloths fly off her when she does.

Gasping, she seizes Atem by the collar if his jacket with a harsh yank. Her teeth gnash, her expression narrows to a glare.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Rey snarls, only registering that there is a guy over her while she's been asleep than the fact that he's actually been tending to her. You know, like a decent person and not a creep.

It had to happen at some point, she had been unresponsive but he could only wonder, for how long. Atem braces himself, allowing her to yank him, not that he can't do much to avoid that. He has no idea how strong she can be and how lucky he's been so far.

He's tense under her grip, obviously, but he doesn't falter, even if he does seem a little afraid at the reaction. She's no salamander, she's like a desert cobra.

"I didn't want to wake you..." Since she seemed so adamant about wanting to sleep. "You were... dreaming," and bleeding, though, a little less now. Should he apologize? He doesn't feel he should be sorry for trying to help her, but she is making it very difficult for him not to feel guilty about it.

Good news for Atem, Rey doesn't instinctively punch a hole in the middle of his face. At one point she would have, but between the mental haze and a whisper of restraint in the back of her mind, she stops. Stares at Atem for a moment. Then releases him, forcefully throwing him away from her. Adrenaline has blinded her from the pain in her hand where she had stabbed herself the previous night. It's an afterthought.

Dreaming... Rey doesn't normally dream. Not in the way most people do. She has memories. That one played out so vivid, so clear, it might as well have been happening to her right now. That's the pain she feels. That's the pain she wants to hold onto, if only for a short while.

Once there's a comfortable distance between the two of them, Rey lowers her face into her palm, her head reeling from what's happening.

"Why are you here?" Rey asks again, this time more forcefully. She peers at him from over her hand, eyes narrow.

He'd said that he wanted to make her his 'business'. But she just can't understand why.

Atem falls pretty easily from being thrown away, thankfully not to hard at all, simply losing balance from the position and the distance they had been from the floor. He deserves that, alright, and he remains there, sitting up instead as he looks at her. He will not accept that this distance is welcomed, that he doesn't know if he wants to approach at her again. Even if he has to, he can't just leave now. Not after what he saw Rey's capable of. If he were someone else, just anyone else, he probably wouldn't be there to start with, but he knows Yugi would. And he wouldn't give up on her.

"I'm not giving up on you. I will not leave until..." Until what? Hah, he doesn't even know the answer of that. He doesn't know if she will ever be okay again and, of course, he doesn't know why she is acting like this. But whatever it is, it is not okay.

"Why are you doing this?" To herself, to others? His question is but a whisper. It doesn't sound like something one should ask, maybe she doesn't know either but, perhaps, understanding a little would help them both.

Perseverance is an admirable trait for one to have. Right now, to Rey, it's the most annoying thing she has to contend with.

If it were an option, she'd leave this whole damned city. Find someplace far from here to curl up and see how long it takes to give out. She's never starved to death before. Drowned, shot, blown up, sure. Could she starve? It does hurt, and it hurts even now. It's just nothing compared to the agony that has burrowed even deeper than skin.

The problem is, or so she tells herself, is that it'd take too damned long. At least here she can hole herself up somewhere dark and quiet. Would it be the same out there? How long would it take for her to find something that could kill her?

Her brows knit. Fingernails digging into her forehead as she shakes. Why is she doing this? Why? This kid came this way, went through this trouble, for... what?

"It doesn't matter," she hisses. "None of it ever did."

The words remain on the tip of her tongue. An incoherent imbroglio of events the play in her head over and over and yet never make any sense when she tries to speak. Because what good does talking do? It won't change anything. It didn't back then, and it won't now.

For as much as Atem doesn't want to upset her, for as much as he does want to let her rest, he is concerned about what is going on.

Obviously, he's missing big pieces of the puzzle here, and some don't seem to match at all in the little space he's given to work with, some even, seem broken... He never intended to solve it, he never intended to meddle with her situation, he knows how it is to have people trying to trespass the door, the limits he had established, it's annoying more than helpful! But it is impossible not to, if he wants to truly help her.

"What didn't?"

This kid just doesn't know when to let up, does he?

Rey practically folds up, tucking her legs to her chest and shifting her position away from facing Atem. She lowers her forehead to her knees and lets out a shuddering exhale.

Is this just another nightmare? Will she wake up and things will be back to the way they were?

"Doesn't matter," she says again. "There's nothing to be done, so just get out."

It's been how long? And she still can't bring herself to talk about it. About any of it. Some details were shared with Nick and Henry, but the scratches in her heart are deeper than she can put into coherent thought.

Who knows. Maybe she'll sleep on it.

Atem knows she doesn't want him here, but that doesn't mean he's done. Not so long ago he learned that a loss didn't mean he actually lost, he could still win. Even though it is very hard to see it right now.

He disagrees terribly with her, there is obviously a lot to do here.

--

Maybe it is a dream, maybe it is not, but by the time she wakes again, if she does, there he is again. Staring, maybe even snoozing, or just, he's not even looking at her. But he is there, at the corner of the room, leaning against the wall, checking on her bandages, cleaning her face (against her will), letting her sleep or just, listening to the nonsense she has to say.

Days pass, is she even aware of them? There are just so many things that happen around her, but it's not in a couple of hours, it's days, sometimes he cannot even feel them himself. Growing desperate from the lack of reaction, or the extreme mood changes, he decides to ask for help, at last, even though he remains in the house. Cannot leave her alone, he doesn't want to.

Thanks to Rey, or to the new place, Atem's sleeping patterns have gone completely haywire. It is hard at times to sleep during the day, and not because of the suns, really, but because his mind cannot stop working at all. Overworking, even. It's not the first time he does that, but then, he didn't have a body to worry about, he could go on and on in the safety of his Puzzle, of his heart, and drown himself in his thoughts, right now, he doesn't have that luxury, and it's taking a toll on him. So, one of those days when he gets to Nick and Rey's house, it's at a terrible moment. The small trembling body next to her, it's him, Atem, wrapped up in a borrowed blanket, just trying to get some heat during those couple of hours that the suns are gone. It's freezing, he is freezing. All he wants is to remain a little warm.

But then, he's gone, it is just another day, or is it another dream? Just another moment in time in which her blankets are clean and the glass of water is always at her reach is a new fresh one.

Another cycle and he finds himself plotting a little something. He's desperate and it shows. He's not sure what to do with her anymore. As terrible as it might sound, it is refreshing to talk to people about this, people who might be able to help.

So, how long has it been anyway? He cannot tell himself, and it feels terrible to accept that he cannot stay around as much as he wanted in the beginning; he goes out, he talks to people, he needs to get away from a few hours, maybe even a whole day, maybe two. He remembers Lance's advice, how he needed to keep himself healthy. He just hopes, that whatever emotion he stirred on the people that likes her, help them to do something. He's tired.

Today? Atem lies down next to her, at arm's length, just staring at her, waiting, he doesn't know what he's waiting for but, he's not giving up, not yet.

"Harlan has a kitten... He named her John Frusciante. She's a biter..." And he really likes her. "Do you like cats, Rey?"

Oh, of course he talks to her, sometimes silly things, sometimes a few questions that remain unanswered. Well, mostly everything remains unanswered.

Most of the time, the days just blur together. Without a phone or any other way of telling the passage of time, or even allowing the natural light come through her windows, it could have been days or weeks or months for all Rey cared. Which isn't saying much, as she doesn't care for anything. Sure, she'll drink. Water to keep her body hydrated, liquor to help her sleep. Not what you'd call a nutritional diet, but that's the least of her concerns.

Today has been no different. She's been laying on her side, back turned to Atem and facing the closed off balcony that's been blacked out and barricaded, should anyone try to intrude that way. Honestly she should do something about the front door as well, but even Rey concedes that she needs to leave her confines every now and then to take care of basic needs. That, and she's resigned to the fact that she can't keep people out when they're intent on making their way in. Rose just about nearly tore the door down in order to get inside.

Atem talks. Sometimes, she doesn't bother to listen, but doesn't shut him up either. If the kid wants to talk, then fine. She'll let the background noise put her to rest.

When he mentions something about a cat, however, Rey's eyes slowly open to stare at the wall once more.

Cat... Maketh had one. What was its name again? Kalu?

Named after the first ship she'd served on. Said that she would tell Rey about it someday.

Liar.

Eyes snapping shut again, Rey brings a hand from under the blankets to pinch the bridge of her nose. It seems that, by trying not to think about something, she only just thinks about it even more. And the hurt reminds her again -- of everything. Of the things that Maketh had left behind. Abandoned. Including that cat. Still here? With Henry? Or did it die, alone and forgotten?

In some pathetic way, she would have envied the creature if it had. There are days where Rey feels like doing the same. To just turn to waste and bank on Hope never bringing her back. With Sorrow gone, it's not like she's helping anyone these days.

Remembering that Atem had just said something, finally Rey speaks:

"Don't hate them," she admits. "He's here. Probably hiding. Nick says it's a little radioactive."

And if that one-eyed monster of a hairless feline has enough sense to recognize its own condition, it probably knew better than to try and share its love with random guests.

Edited 2017-12-26 22:49 (UTC)

Is he seriously getting more than a snarl out of her? Atem freezes on the spot, props up on an elbow right after, from the surprise. But at him actually processing the words, he's already looking around. No, he hasn't seen any kitten around here lately, let alone a radioactive one, is she being delusional?

But he got a response out of her, that's something, more than something!

"Back home," he goes on, a little cautious, "cats are sacred. We have... entire celebrations and temples dedicated to them."

Don't get too comfortable with the development, Atem. Rey isn't making a habit out of acknowledging the existence of those around her -- or being conscious, for that matter.

"Mm," she mumbles, not moving but thinking. "Been to some places that used to be like that. Never bothered having any pets around, personally."

Given her lifestyle (and how long she lived between her lives), it was better that way. Not having something to depend on her to survive.

No, of course he will not get comfortable with just that, he's been here long enough to know that, to know it is his chance to push a little further. He crawls slowly towards her, trying not to make any sudden movement. Yes, his interactions have been reduced to that, out of fear that she might react violently. He pushes the glass of water towards her, on her line of sight.

"Why?"

Though noticing the water Atem offers, Rey doesn't go for it. Despite her dry mouth and sore throat, she isn't sure she can keep anything down at the moment. Not even simple liquids like water.

"Wasn't safe for them. Moved around a lot. They have worker animals in the military, but they're not really pets."

He will still offer it, just like his presence, she can or not take it, but if she notices it, that's at least a small victory.

"Like horses?" He only knows what he remembers from his own time. Never had to research about modern military, not even for school. Even less when Domino City was literally bought by the biggest gaming industry after Industrial Illusions and the current CEO replaced military weapons for games.

Finally, Rey pushes her head off the floor, reeling herself into a more upright sitting position than before. Her skull still feels like it weighs dozens of pounds heavier as it hangs; her eyes locked on her knees folding towards her chest.

She casts Atem a quick, wary look, before shrugging a shoulder.

"Sort of. K-9 units are more practical. Dogs are good for a lot of things."

Even though she's never spent much time with them.

"We used to use hounds for hunting, and protection, not much for wars." They weren't going to put the animals at risk after all, horses were absolutely necessary sometimes though, but not even half of an army would use one. But he doesn't go into that, surprised to see her moving, hopeful, even.

"Is there something you need?"

Perhaps he should have continued with the conversation, but, asking doesn't hurt (he's not at her reach).

That doesn't sound so surprising. The kid did mention something about 'three thousand years' when they first met, and Rey has been around long enough to get a gist of what that means without playing Twenty Questions.

Such things rapidly disperse from her immediate thoughts when Atem speaks again with that particular query.

"A gun would be nice," she blurts before she even has the chance to form a real answer.

All breath is expelled from her lungs as Rey slams her hand over her face, hiding her own wide-eyed expression.

Her pulse skips several beats before she reluctantly adds, "Forget that."

She can't even say she didn't mean it.

The remark makes him cringe, it's not even noticeable, but it feels like a punch to the gut. He shouldn't even be surprised but she hadn't been as forward about it until now, not verbally anyway.

There are so many things he could say, all of them useless, to her. For starters that he cannot just forget that, followed by how she's there for some reason, that it is not her time yet, not that he knows it, that she should choose to live, that she still has a lot to offer. But the truth is, he doesn't know any of it.

"You know Hope would just bring you back." He instead goes for the immediate truth. "Besides... Death is not the end, you know?"

She doesn't notice, but Rey has enough self-awareness to cringe at her own remark for reasons that are obvious. What a hypocrite she must be, to have ranted and screamed at those who claimed not to care for their lives, when she has thrown her own away on more than one occasion. Acting reckless, and not always for the sake of helping others but for helping herself. That maybe she could someday forgive herself if she did enough good.

But it doesn't work that way, does it? Her own actions in the now don't erase what she had done in the past. Just as what's broken will never be mended the same way again. Something in her has been warped. And time will not put it as it once was.

"Hope is a little indisposed at the moment." Rey's fingers curl over her forehead, through her bangs. "And unlike some, death is an end for me. But it's just someplace dark and lonely and there's nothing there."

It's the place she lived during the many years she had been dead. Just someplace cold, desolate. A place where she can't scream or cry or feel pain at all. Just an abyss.

"Rey, I..." There is a bit of a resigned sigh before he goes on, what is there to lose by just saying what he thinks?

"I am not above ending someone out of mercy. I've seen you suffer, I know you're in pain... Believe me, if I knew doing so would help you, I would do it, no second thoughts." He says, quietly, "But, the truth is, I don't know if that's what you truly need."

Others mattered too, others cared too. Hopefully she would see that soon enough.

"How can you be so certain about that?" He finally asks, just after his little speech, not wishing to dwell too much into it, after all, it sounded more like an invitation than a mere remark.

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keywords relevant

ffff.

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tw: suicidal ideation.

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