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

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.

The fact that Atem has less to lose than some might be the reason behind Rey's more candid response. While she isn't about to pour her heart and soul right then and there, some things are more difficult to say when facing people who truly care about you.

Not that Atem doesn't seem to care. Much the opposite, in fact, to Rey's chagrin. Part of her would wish that people would mind their own fucking business, but--

But she doesn't want to be alone, in that place much like death.

The muscles in her arms tighten. She wants to yell and scream and yell him he knows nothing about her pain, but she's tired. She has slept so much and she's tired.

"Because, have died before." She cants her head, stare focused on the wall now, or the darkness between it. "Died lots of times, actually. It was always dark. Like a long sleep, but... not really. Feel more exhausted when awake each time."

Not that hard to see why.

Oh no, he knows nothing about her pain, there is absolutely nothing he can compare to what she might be feeling. Or maybe there is, but he will not make it about himself, even if in all honesty, helping her might have a lot to do with him dealing with the crushing feeling that he feels utterly useless. But again, this is not about him.

What Rey says, however, comes as a surprise, one he perhaps would have been better without knowing about. He could ask how, he could ask why, but...

"Is that what you want? To experience that darkness?" He, could help there, even if maybe, it would destroy her mind in such state.

"Not really."

Which is a complete and total contradiction of what she was implying just a moment ago, but emotions have never always been consistent when it comes to these things. And sometimes stupid shit comes out that she doesn't mean.

Only parts of her does mean it, and that also terrifies her. Because that long, dreamless dark place is a Hell she can't stand the thought of ever going back to, even for a little while.

"But how else is it supposed to end?" Rey mutters, more to herself than to Atem.

That is absolutely unhelpful, but somehow expected anyway, it is not that she had been making absolute sense to start with.

"Maybe it's not. Either way... Who are you to say it is the end?"

That almost gets a laugh out of her.

"Was a soldier," she says flatly. "Used to say it's the end for a lot of people, every day."

It's a whole other ballfield, but one that's easier to talk about because she's long since come to terms with it.

Oh, no girl, she don't get to pull that card, he outranks her greatly, by a technicality anyway.

"And yet, you're still here."

Edited 2018-01-04 04:38 (UTC)

"Of course." She snorts. "Didn't get that choice. It was taken."

Come to think of it, things aren't much different now from the way they once were. Rey still has no control over her own life.

Or her death.

"It's no one's own choice, Rey."

Not even he had that chance, all the opposite of her, he didn't want to die back then, but it was something that had to be done. He's tried everything so far, maybe it's time for a different approach.

"Aren't the people around you enough for you to keep trying?" Why pour everything into one single person anyway?

So, he's going to start playing that card, huh? Rey knows where this is going. Atem isn't the only one who's tried, and she's pretty sure he won't be the last.

Then there's silence. The heat in her face makes her eyes burn and for a moment all she can see is a flash of red. Shaky visions. Brain searing.

It's not fair, it's not fair...

"Someone I love is dead," Rey admits, trying to keep her voice level and failing. Her nails dig into her arms; her body tensing. "Not in the way that Hope can just bring her back. She's gone, and the only 'home' she has to go back to is her death."

Why she's saying this all now, she doesn't know. It's none of his business and she owes no one an explaination or apology. Still, Atem has come this far, been this tenacious. He might as well get why picking herself up and dusting her shoulders off isn't so easy.

What a fucking hypocrite she is.

Oh? Is that working? He doesn't know if it would have worked if he had tried it before, but can't help thinking about it. But he listens attentively as he had all these past days. She, indeed, doesn't owe him any kind of explanation, he, in fact, didn't need it (he already knew), but it's good to listen it from her.

Losing someone loved has to be the worst feeling there is, he knows about it, a little.

"Maketh, right?" Yeah, he went there.

She doesn't ask how he knows. Not only does Rey not want to hear the answer, but she figures word gets around on the network. While people are prone to being open about lamenting a lost loved one, Rey tends to prefer no one's company. She can get lost in her own head for a while, not think about it.

"Yes." She pauses, eyes fixed on the wall. "We had a... disagreement. Never got the chance to work shit out."

Between the Null attack and Rey's own cowardice, there wasn't much time left for reconciliation. Or maybe that's just another excuse.

Yeah, it is more or less what Henry said. One thing, however, is to want to be alone for a while, another, to want to disappear all together.

"How many disagreements have you had over your lives?" No, it's not that, surely she's just... tired, tired of it all. There is a moment in which everyone needs a rest, a break, even he could understand that, but it's be terribly selfish to make this about him.

"Sometimes, things don't ever go the way we intended them to, but I'm sure you know that." It doesn't mean one isn't allowed to reflect on it. Life is unfair, but it is what it is. "It's not your fault she's gone."

"No, but it is my fault for not trying to make things right sooner. Probably won't ever get another chance to..."

While Rey isn't going to take the blame for those who the Door takes, there are many things she could have done, should have done rather than do what she did.

It isn't much better than what she's doing right now, is it?

"No, you're right... you may never get that chance again. But you're missing others."

That's right.

He's really no one to tell her what to do or what to feel, but he can at least tell her the facts. He could go on with the lecture, not that it was one, but he'd rather not tire her more. He, instead, crawls next to her, and sits right bedside her, as apparently, she's being rather reasonable. To a point, of course.

"You have to let her go." He lowers his voice to a whisper. He didn't know Maketh, but he wishes to believe that she wouldn't have liked to know Rey is suffering because of her, that her soul, wherever it is, might be torn from it. They loved each other after all.

As Atem moves closer, Rey only tenses. He should know better by now, how volatile she is. How quickly she can turn on him if she even for a moment perceives him to be a threat.

But she doesn't move. She just sits there, watching nothing as though the nothing will become something one day.

"Don't get the wrong idea," she says warily, her voice low. "Was responsible for destroying many spouses, children, families, and friends for a very, very long time. Fairly sure none of those people got though whatever it is they did by being told 'sorry' hundreds of times and to 'get over it'."

It's not what Atem said specifically, but it's what she can sense a few people thinking. She can't keep going this way, she can't do this or that because it's going to kill her eventually.

Well, this is going to be the one thing she will own. Maybe she hasn't earned it, for all the widows and orphans she had made over the last century. Hell, she had even been witness to the rotten fruits of her actions not so long ago, in her world.

That shadow hasn't followed her for very long here. She should be grateful for that. But all she wants to do is vomit.

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

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tw: suicidal ideation.

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