Meta/Agent Maine | Red vs Blue (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
mainiac) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
hadriel_logs2016-04-04 04:09 pm
mainiac) wrote in hadriel_logs2016-04-04 04:09 pm
Entry tags:
Face down in the gutter, won't admit defeat
Who: Maine and YOU
What: Maine has a very...interesting way of "celebrating".
Where: The bar, Maine's apartment building, and the city in general.
When: During Delight's resurrection plot
Warnings: Maine is Maine, and consequently there's a high likelihood for violence, particularly in this case because HE IS STUCK HERE THIS IS NOT A CAUSE FOR CELEBRATION HE IS PISSED. Expect violence against others, furniture, and monsters.
The Meta isn't, typically, a joyous kind of person. He interacts with the world through contact, but it's the violent kind. The rough kind. Everything is a fight, an argument in fists and weapons. He's thrown into a world not of his understanding, without his consent or knowledge ahead of time for a reason he's still not really sure of and the more time passes the more frustrated it makes him. There's no escape, no cause, only solid, impenetrable walls and a handful of new questions for every one he finds an answer to. It boils under the surface, only growing the more time passes, and he has Maketh's directive to provide some guidance but it's a band-aid for a bigger problem. An objective to fill his time because there's always a case to be made for a threat, with the monsters roaming the city, but it's one without an ending because there's no tangible source to go after.
So he tears his room apart when the frustration builds too much, vents it on walls and furniture until knuckles bleed and breaths come in uneven bursts from the exertion. He attacks the monsters he finds with the blades Bianca brought him to on his first day because he can't afford to use up all his ammunition before he's certain he'll be able to get more, and anyway spilling blood has its merits. It's cathartic. He growls at passersby when they creep up on him (intentionally or not), one or two finding themselves shoved against a wall when reflexes and instinct work too quickly. He finds himself in the bar a time or three, armor left behind because it restricts his movement in some ways, dulling the flickering wave of anger and frustration hunched over a bottle (or three. or four. or five.), which he knows damn well isn't going to help the situation but the buzz and the warmth is nice.
And okay, so maybe it makes him even quicker to anger but that's hardly his fault. He's lost and angry and alone, and he's never been all that great with what he feels. He's allowed. At the end of the night he staggers home, using the walls he can find to guide him (and keep him upright), hopefully finding his own apartment instead of somebody else's.
What: Maine has a very...interesting way of "celebrating".
Where: The bar, Maine's apartment building, and the city in general.
When: During Delight's resurrection plot
Warnings: Maine is Maine, and consequently there's a high likelihood for violence, particularly in this case because HE IS STUCK HERE THIS IS NOT A CAUSE FOR CELEBRATION HE IS PISSED. Expect violence against others, furniture, and monsters.
The Meta isn't, typically, a joyous kind of person. He interacts with the world through contact, but it's the violent kind. The rough kind. Everything is a fight, an argument in fists and weapons. He's thrown into a world not of his understanding, without his consent or knowledge ahead of time for a reason he's still not really sure of and the more time passes the more frustrated it makes him. There's no escape, no cause, only solid, impenetrable walls and a handful of new questions for every one he finds an answer to. It boils under the surface, only growing the more time passes, and he has Maketh's directive to provide some guidance but it's a band-aid for a bigger problem. An objective to fill his time because there's always a case to be made for a threat, with the monsters roaming the city, but it's one without an ending because there's no tangible source to go after.
So he tears his room apart when the frustration builds too much, vents it on walls and furniture until knuckles bleed and breaths come in uneven bursts from the exertion. He attacks the monsters he finds with the blades Bianca brought him to on his first day because he can't afford to use up all his ammunition before he's certain he'll be able to get more, and anyway spilling blood has its merits. It's cathartic. He growls at passersby when they creep up on him (intentionally or not), one or two finding themselves shoved against a wall when reflexes and instinct work too quickly. He finds himself in the bar a time or three, armor left behind because it restricts his movement in some ways, dulling the flickering wave of anger and frustration hunched over a bottle (or three. or four. or five.), which he knows damn well isn't going to help the situation but the buzz and the warmth is nice.
And okay, so maybe it makes him even quicker to anger but that's hardly his fault. He's lost and angry and alone, and he's never been all that great with what he feels. He's allowed. At the end of the night he staggers home, using the walls he can find to guide him (and keep him upright), hopefully finding his own apartment instead of somebody else's.