he was down on the floor with his lips to a glass

[mismanagement]

Who: Maketh Tua and open
What: Aftermath of the doubles event.
Where: Apartments, Guard HQ
When: 26th and onward
Warnings: Alcoholism, depression, mentions of death and torture, probably swearing. I will match format.



Apartment

[Stars, she's tired. All the time now. Ever since Henry took her home from Hope's temple, she's been drawn to her bed and its blankets, a refuge that she can hide in and forget everything else. Anyone who knows Maketh will have noticed a change in her routine. She's sleeping almost the entire day, getting up only to drink or vomit from the drinking. If she goes out at all, it's in the middle of the night, a move engineered to let her avoid as many people as possible.

The best way to get in touch is to bang on her door, loud enough that she can't ignore it.]

Guard HQ

[Quietly, Maketh has changed all of her shifts to avoid the most people possible. So while she's still performing her duties, she's doing them out of sight and largely around two in the morning. If you've got insomnia and happen to wander in at odd hours, you might see her rewriting damaged reports, or trying to clean the mess off the floor.

Often she keeps a bottle of whiskey on her desk. Not to drink - not when she's working - but as a taunt. She often stares at it.]

Around the city

[By choice Maketh has turned into something of a nocturnal creature, rarely leaving the apartment - or indeed the room - during the day. But at night she goes out, either to check things with the guard or just to wander. Sometimes she goes to the river and tries to imagine what lives at the bottom. Either way she's alone.]

Wildcard

[Dealer's choice. Hit me.]

Comments

apartment - 1/28

[unfollowing]

Emily waits a while before going to look for Maketh. Dying sucks, resurrection sucks more, and actually recovering sucks most. Eventually, though, she does go look for her, Wolfie at her side. You can never be too careful here, after all.

"Maketh?"

She's not demanding her friend's presence like she normally would -- Emily's graceful like that -- but she's not being patient either. "Maketh. Are you here?"

Wolfie pads slowly ahead of her, sniffing the air. He's heading for Maketh's room, so Emily follows.

"Wolfie's here too, don't freak out."

[mismanagement]

This is one of the rare times when Maketh isn't sleeping or drunk enough that she might as well be. She's sitting on the floor of her room, back to the wall, and in the process of demolishing a bottle of whiskey. She hasn't gotten that far with it yet, but determination will see to that before the end. She's dressed in clothes that are too big and no shoes, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Her hair is hanging in a loose ponytail. It's very far from her chosen uniform.

She doesn't respond, just pulls the blanket closer. She wants to be drunk. Or dead. It's hard to tell the difference sometimes.

She'll settle for drunk. That seems easier.

[unfollowing]

They walk into the room when Maketh tugs the blanket tighter, and right away, Emily knows what's going on. It's clear as day; the bottle is right there.

"It sucks, doesn't it." Dying. Coming back. "I should've brought you a bottle of something."

Instead, she brought a wolf who pads over to Maketh and, if she remains still, will sniff the blanket.

[mismanagement]

Maketh doesn't look up. But she doesn't throw the bottle at Emily, either, and that's about as close to polite as she feels like getting.

The animal is a surprise.

Maketh doesn't flinch, allowing it - him? - to sniff her for a moment. "What is that?"

around the city

[meatbrained]

( It's hard to sleep after events like this. Even without a double of himself running around, resting doesn't come to him in wake of Hannah's double, in the knowledge of Beth having met her own before anything else. So, occasionally, when it's too hard to sleep, to lie in bed and not move, he gets up and walks. Just. Walks the city.

It's quiet again. There's no influx of extras. No monsters. If there were a sky, if this place was fully rebuilt, you'd barely notice anything but the architecture. It'd just be a city.

He makes it to the very edge of the river, wanders down the stream with no real thought to where his feet are going. Just that they are. )

... Maketh?

( But his head comes out of the cotton and clouds when he finally notices her. )

Uh. Hey.

[mismanagement]

[Maketh glances at Matt briefly but doesn't rise to greet him. She's sitting with her back to a rock, arms hugged tight to her chest.]

You shouldn't be here. It's late.

Guard HQ

[circumitus]

It's the first time Rey has revisited the headquarters since she had been unearthed by Nick and Sharon. Memories of what her other self had done during her hours underground haunt and plague her more than the pain in her chest, where her double had struck her with a machete.

She staggers over the wreckage where a wall had once been, stepping into the building to confirm that dread dug in her chest: She had done this. Maybe not Rey herself, but 'Rey' was enough a part of her that she knows what she was capable of. That she is always inclined towards violence and destruction. Bringing down the hard work that others have made.

Amid the aftermath, she finds Maketh. Guilt, whether it be unfounded or not, stings when she sees the other woman tending to some reports. No doubt due to the display that 'Rey' had made at the time.

"Apologies," she mutters, scooping up a toppled over box from the floor. There's so much work to be done here, though.

[mismanagement]

Maketh glances at Rey briefly but doesn't smile. She doesn't have much of a reaction at all. These days she's either drunk or tired enough that just existing appears to exert a physical toll on her body.

There are probably reasons for that. She's decided not to think about them.

"You don't need to apologize to me," Maketh says, softly. She smooths her hand over the reports. They're damaged, but she can fix them.

This, at least, she can fix.

[circumitus]

"But it is necessary," Rey insists. "Am responsible for what happened here. At least, partially so."

She should have taken out her dopplegänger when she had the opportunity to. She should have been quicker. More vigilant. The Salamander wouldn't have allowed herself to get dropped on like that. No one ever survived such an encounter.

Yet the Rey she is now is not the Salamander, and she is not nearly as prone to attack on sight without mercy as she used to be.

Maybe that should be different, though. There's something about the way she's been doing things that just isn't working...

[mismanagement]

Maketh just shakes her head. "So am I."

But it's done. They must continue.

Hah. Easier said than done.

around the city

[unitas]

[ It's as Maketh wanders the city that she'll come across Sharon da Silva, standing in front of a wall of one of the buildings on the outer edge of the city. There are a couple buckets of paint laid out in front of her, lids tilted so that they're barely open, but even in the darkness, it's easy to tell the color, their lids and bodies spattered in green or red or black. Sharon stands several feet back from the wall, observing her work with only a mild frown on her features. The wall itself has only a bare outlining of two people, bodies slender and haunted.

When she hears Maketh's approaching steps, Sharon speaks but doesn't turn to acknowledge who it may be, doesn't bother to turn to even look. She's got no reason to be on her toes at the moment. Plus, she smells faintly of whiskey. ]

You think it'd be obvious what happened if the other double has a knife? [ She's just having some minor art block as she tries to paint out the last event, no biggie. ]

[mismanagement]

[Maketh tips her head to the side. It's a rather morbid image. It fits perfectly.]

I suppose.

[She's quiet a moment.]

Why would you want to remember this?

[unitas]

[ The question causes her to turn, to look back at Maketh with a bit of a confused expression. ]

Why would you want to forget? [ She asks in return. It seems like a question with such an easy answer. Who wants to remember their pain? Who wants to remember the terrible things that were said or done? Sharon does, that's who. ]

You should never forget what an enemy does to you, what they can do to you and what they will do to others. [ The moment something like this is forgotten is the moment it will happen again. ]

Around the city

[turingmachine]

(In the days after what happened with their double, they find themselves increasingly restless, increasingly unwilling to stay in the apartment they share with Ahsoka.

Though there is relatively little nature to enjoy in this underground place, they attempt to do so anyway. They're wandering along the riverbank when they spot someone. They hesitate, unsure of whether or not to approach her or if they should just leave her alone.

Finally, they decide to approach. She doesn't... seem to be doing very well.)

"Uhmmmm... excuse me. Are you all right?" (Their voice is soft and slightly concerned.)

[mismanagement]

[Maketh lifts her head briefly. There's a machine staring at her.]

Did you need something?

[turingmachine]

(Said machine fidgets a bit.)

"Forgive me, but you did not appear to be ...doing very well." (Especially with their enhanced senses, it's pretty obvious that something is wrong.) "I was concerned."

(And now they feel awkward.)

guard hq

[fulcra]

[ ahsoka's hours are long as it is, always punctual for her assigned patrol duties, but often patrolling long past that, or else checking in to be sure nothing else needs to be done around headquarters. she just likes to keep an eye on things, that's all. it's a bad urge when things are going wrong but it's not better when things smooth over and she can still feel the lingering upset around the city. it's not like she can just sleep through all of that.

so she's here, not greeting maketh right away, but instead finding a spare chair at one of the other desks and quietly carrying it over to set beside maketh's. rewriting and reorganizing reports. this is something she can help with. ]

Hey. You need a hand?

[mismanagement]

[Maketh looks up slowly.]

Ashoka. I wasn't expecting you.

[Obviously. Maketh drops her eyes. The guard post is a mess. Part of that is her fault. The Imperial symbol has long since been scrubbed off the wall, but Maketh can still see the dent in the wall where the double stuck her to it.]

I--wouldn't be opposed to it, no.

[fulcra]

Let's see what I can do, then.

[ there's a definite air of encouragement and reassurance to her, not nearly enough to be patronizing, but the sort of solidness that comes from command. she perfected it with the clones, so many years ago. but ahsoka's really not here for a speech or anything, reaching to pull something off maketh's pile and bring it in front of her, idly reading over the top of the report.

it's so she doesn't look up, doesn't put maketh on the spot with, ] You doing alright?

[mismanagement]

[There's someone standing in the doorway. Watching her.

Maketh turns slowly, watching.]

Oh. Shadow.

[Apparently he killed the thing with her face. Apparently it---stayed with him.

She picks up the bottle of whiskey and holds it out to him. It's not a peace offering. There's no war between them. Only a promise that was kept.]

Don't be like that.

apartment;

[hotspurred]

[It's hardly as if Henry hasn't noticed Maketh's behaviour in the wake of Hadriel's latest incident. At first he thought that a day or two might get it out of her system. But it continues, and it's not a road he wants to see his sister go down. He just doesn't know what he can do — what he has the capacity to do when he still cannot ground himself.

He wonders if she's subsisting merely off of alcohol. He hates knowing that she is self-destructing.

One of the ways in which he has been occupying himself is more cooking lessons from the accommodating Wraeththu. After his latest attempt at cooking from scratch as he's been taught, Henry decides enough is enough. He can at least make sure that Maketh eats.

He knocks loudly on the door of her bedroom and waits at the threshold. He'll give her that chance, or perhaps warning, before he enters her sanctuary.]

[mismanagement]

[Maketh's response, insomuch as it counts as one, is to throw a boot at the door. She's awake but neither upright nor sober, sitting on the floor with her blankets and a bottle of something sour tasting. It might have been whiskey once or something close to whiskey. She can't sleep without taking something these days, else there are dreams and she's come to hate dreaming. It takes her places she has no control over.

It's daytime, anyway. Her work has shifted to the nocturnal side of things. So it's fine. It's just fine.]

[hotspurred]

[The thud of something thrown impacting the door is all the cue that Henry needs to push open Maketh's door and step inside. Seeing her sat there he walks right up to her, takes hold of her nearest arm and hauls her up.]

Get up, sister. I am ensuring that you eat.

[It's a heavy-handed approach, but he can already see that she's not much in an accomodating mood.]