something that can wash all the pain | OTA

[reassures]

Who| Nill and YOU
What| Drinking and possibly crying
Where| Tribute center lounge/bar
When| Way backdated to just after Week 2
Warnings/Notes| Typical post arena warnings + alcohol warning. References to hard drugs and suicide in Linden's thread.

Nill opens her eyes, and the first thought that goes through her mind is that she wants to cry. She can't tell if it's because she's relieved or bitterly angry, but it sits like lead in the pit of her stomach, like fire, and she pulls her knees up to her chest to drown the heat of it, or else she knows it will burn through to her bones.

It may be a good thing that the Tributes don't seem to wake up in their own beds, because if they did she's not sure when she would actually find it in her to get up again. Even with where she is it's a long time before Nill can muster the energy to actually sit up again, let alone to pull the blanket from the cot around her shoulders and stand. When they let her she stumbles her way out of the room, wings folded down and blanket still held tightly around herself as she slowly makes her way up through the tower.

There's no physical pain, and that's probably the most jarring part. There are phantom aches in her skin and joints, the unmarked patch of skin where a xenomorph had stabbed a hole into her side burns, and the long stretch of her forehead that was still horribly bruised for most of the Arena throbbed, though it was completely and utterly okay now. There's not a mark on her but everything hurts, and the ache in her chest is by far the worst of it. She feels sick, and Nill wants nothing more than to sink down and not move again. She does a good job of avoiding this base instinct until she gets to the lobby, and on one of the screens there's a flash of small troll with nubby horns, thoroughly miserable and beat up but alive, and Nill freezes before she can take more than a few steps.

She gives in to the instinct, though not where she stands. Nill makes her way to the bar, gestures to borrow a pen from the bartender, and writes out an order on a napkin. He seems to tel her that she can hold on to it, and once Nill has a hot coffee that smells very much of whiskey she sits in a seat far off to the side, where she can watch the monitors.

To say she looks miserable would be putting it lightly.

Comments

[carnagecarnival]

There's this sensation most strange when he comes back from the dead these days. Like a ghost, he feels to be. He wanders the hallways as being none more than a wraith, with the same ghost sensation of wounds what ain't there, all making not a single sound as he moves until some point, eventually, he finds on for direction.

He doesn't usually float this long. It's been a week and he's starting to feel his steps make noise and have on feeling, but remaining still is that faint sense that he can be seen through. It's funny how that ends with one what ain't even looking at him.

She's daylight colors, with wings of an angel. She's all things what would be of design to cut, but so was he made to be, and the sorrow drags upon her. It weighs on him.

"...Nill?" He says, ever so quiet. Ever so motherfucking afraid to see on of what changes will come of her when she looks at him.

[reassures]

Nill freezes the moment she hears his voice, because she hadn't been paying attention enough to much of anything to actually hear him coming. She turns her head towards him very slowly, her expression a little surprised, but not because of unhappiness. It looks like she can't believe he's there, like she wasn't sure they would bring him back. Like she wasn't sure if she would see would actually see him again, or if the thing waiting here when she got back would either be an empty room or another orb to laugh and tell her she was going to be the death of him and everything she loved.

She can't look at him for long, but it's not because of looking at him. Her shoulders already tremble faintly under the blanket, tears already beginning to gather in her eyes, and when she lifts her hands they shake faintly as well, but she holds them up to make one sign at him.

Sorry.

The only thing her expression and posture broadcast is shame. As if she should have said yes to what the Mirth Core asked of her. As if she still believes that it had to be him in some way, even if it was warped by the Capitol. It knew her, knew all the things Kurloz had just learned, and it was right about everything. It asked her to save him and she said no.

She's so, so sorry.

[carnagecarnival]

Anger, fear, betrayal, hatred. He expected those sort of things. While he's not so disillusioned anymore to think he could withstand those things, they were what all he prepared and brace for, like a force incoming. Only to feel a knife from behind as what her apology is.

And his eyes go wide with shock and a dull sort of horror. His first step, he hesitates. But he doesn't for any step what follows until he's gone right to her, doing the only stupid thing what he can think to do, even for all it may not be motherfucking welcome.

He reaches out to wrap his arms around her.

"DON'T. Don't be sorry. MIRTH, NILL, DON'T BE BEING NO KIND OF MOTHERFUCKING SORRY AT TO ME. You didn't do nothing wrong. DIDN'T MAKE FOR NO WRONG DOING." His head shakes, further warring her apology with a 'no'. "I should've told you. SHOULD'VE WARNED."

[reassures]

Under other circumstances she might go rigid. She might seem uncomfortable, or displeased, but right now she barely has it in herself to stay sitting up, let alone to even want to pull away.

It's hard to actually sign like this, but she ends up not needing to much, because the only thing she can think to do is shake her head in return. There was nothing he should have warned her about, she knew enough, she got little bits and pieces from his head in the Arena, from the dreams that she tried to keep away. It wasn't anywhere near enough to prepare her for the Mirth Core but it was enough, and she should have done better.

She was ruin. Everyone she loved was dead and gone, and she let him die and then doomed him all over again when the Core asked her for help. She left Terezi because she could barely stand to have anyone look at her, and then Terezi died while she was gone. Even after that, she was so close to doing better, she managed to keep Karkat safe for a little while and he even got her to smile, but then she not only died, he killed her so she wouldn't die horribly, and she left him in the Arena alone.

She's still shaking her head when the tears start falling from her eyes, but she's quick to wrap her arms around Kurloz too, hugging him tightly even if it doesn't do anything to help with the shaking.

[carnagecarnival]

He hangs on tight to her, holding her steady so that she may gain her ground. He's not her moirail, he can't truly ease her. He can't chase her shaking away. But he can try and be a friend. Even if he failed all up to now, he can try and make right on his sins.

He can hold her until she settles, and all the while, he can reflect on it in wonder. She doesn't fear him. She's only guilty. It doesn't make sense to him, but, with guilt, there is some small hope.

"Nill, look," He says, when at last she seems to be able. "LOOK AT ME." He tries to hold her eyes, so that he may implore his meaning it.

"You didn't do no wrong," He says. He steps back and holds only her arms now. "YOU DIDN'T. That motherfucker took on my voice and spoke with it. IT TOOK THINGS PAST BUT THEM PASTS ARE OF LIES. Sister, I'll tell you a motherfucking secret. A SECRET I WILL BE AT TO TELL YOU. I was such a good liar, I don't even know when as I'm doing it. I USED TO FOOL MYSELF EVERY WHICH WAY AND DIDN'T KNOW FUCK. That thing, it don't know nothing neither. IT DOESN'T. But the other thing what's being true is that I don't make to lie knowing it. SO IF AS I TELL YOU, THE ME WHAT'S TRUE AND KNOWING, THAT NONE OF THAT WAS TRUE? I'm meaning it. YOU AIN'T RESPONSIBLE FOR ME. I doubt you're responsible for half the motherfuckers as you're thinking." He's not sure she'll believe him now, but he hopes she does. It's always easier to believe the bad, but he'll try anyway.

[dead_black_eyes]

These particular Games have been rough on Linden for more reasons than what usually drives him to drink and use Morphling. Usually, he attempts to abstain to a reasonable degree during the Games, if only because he knows that he's far more capable of helping his Tributes in the Arena if he's not a completely wasted, incoherent mess.

If he can't send his Tributes sponsored gifts, though, there isn't much of a reason to be careful, so he's been on a two-week bender, backsliding a dismaying amount. Nill's death was especially hard to watch. He wakes up without bothering to even check what time of day or night it is, finding District 6's room unusually dry. Sadly, it seems that someone has removed even his secret stash, which means he has to actually venture outside his room. Though he resents it, he pulls on the same wrinkled clothes he's been wearing for several days straight, heading down the hall, and then the elevator, and then finding his way to the Tribute Center's lounge.

"What'll it be?" the bartender asks, grimacing when he sees who's there. He's looking Linden's wrinkled clothes up and down, feeling secondhand embarrassment for one of Panem's signature trainwrecks.

"First thing you see," Linden answers, leaning against the bar and massaging his aching forehead. A few minutes later, a bloody mary's celery stalk is nudging him in the elbow. He sighs, throws it back fairly quickly, and then requests something stronger. The bartender reaches for the whiskey against his better judgment, setting a small glass on the counter and beginning to pour it, and that's his big mistake. Linden simply reaches over the bar for the bottle itself. The bartender tightens his grip on it, but so does Linden, and there's an ensuing tug of war for the whiskey bottle.

"I could have you kicked out," the bartender warns, grunting as he tries to pull the bottle back. "You need a bath, your clothes are a mess... damn it, Lockhearst, just let it go before I call your escort...!"

"I'm a VICTOR," Linden retorts icily, shutting down the bartender, who lets go of the whiskey bottle. Unfortunately, Linden had been pulling so hard that the sudden lack of tension sends him toppling back away from the bar, and he just manages to catch himself with a nearby set of tables.

Since he's so very busy and is avoiding looking at the screen, he hasn't in fact noticed poor Nill yet.

[reassures]

For all the trouble Nill had had during her Arena, if there was one thing she had managed, it was proving that Linden was right - at heart she wasn't a killer, and the only things that fell at her hands were monsters. She held a knife a little too casually between her fingers, managed a little more easily than someone who hasn't had to do something similar before might, but otherwise, the Arena weighed on her as much as one might have expected. Mostly she handled the Arena well enough until her interaction with the Mirth Core, and after that she was a miserable husk until Karkat.

She'd made good on her intent to keep Karkat safe, too, until they were put in a position where it was kinder for Karkat to kill her than to leave her. (She still tried to talk him out of it.)

It's understandable that she's not all there, and at least half of her drink is gone by the time Linden arrives at the bar, though of course they've made sure that the body she's in is fed and nourished, and it doesn't hit her harder than it should. But she's so focused on watching the screen and trying not to fall in on herself that she doesn't look over at the argument happening at the bar until it starts to get a little more heated, and even then, the trainwreck she's seeing doesn't strike her as one she's invested in right away, as if the images don't connect right.

When they finally sink in though Nill's eyes go a little wide, and she pushes her blanket off herself a little clumsily in her haste to get to her feet, her own drink immediately forgotten. She manages to get over to Linden before the bartender decides to do anything more, and holds up a hand to him, an obvious gesture for STOP before turning her attention to Linden, one hand held out towards him, only a few feet away but not getting closer in case he doesn't recognize her.

She looks exhausted despite the nice capitol clothes they dressed her in, but the worry shows through despite it. Linden looks more a wreck than she does.

[dead_black_eyes]

It had been difficult watching that gentleness on display in such a brutal environment. Though she'd done well, she wasn't ruthless enough to win, and it had been tough to witness. Not so tough as living it, perhaps, but there's a special kind of helplessness that normally accompanies watching the Games when someone you care about is competing, and this particular Arena has eliminated audience participation completely, increasing it doublefold. And the fact that Nill had been mercy-eliminated scarcely made it better.

The grumbling bartender had been on his way to call a District 6 Escort to come and fetch their wayward, disruptive Mentor, in what's quickly become a "you don't have to go home, but you can't stay here" situation, but he actually does stop when Nill holds up her hand. The major reason is that it seems like she's volunteering to handle Linden, which saves him the trouble and is massively relieving.

He reaches for her hand when he sees it's her, clearly shocked to see her here in person. He knows, intellectually, that the Tributes come back more often than not following a death in the Arena, but years of accepting the finality of death aren't quickly erased. Especially when drunk or high, he has a difficult time witnessing the Arena casualties, because he's seen so many that didn't come back. Temporary, fleeting relationships that are extinguished before they have a chance to truly form; that's the fate of a Victor in Panem.

"Nill?" he asks, shaking his head, rubbing at his bleary eyes as he straightens, turning and attempting to align the tables and chairs he knocked into. Unfortunately, the attempt basically makes them worse.

"I'll buy you a drink. Bartender!" he calls, holding up the whiskey bottle with the hand not holding Nill's.

"Not in your wildest dreams, Lockhearst."

Linden glowers. "Can you believe how he's talking to me?" he asks. "This is all wrong... all..." he closes his eyes, taking a deep swallow of the alcohol. "...are you OK, Nill?"

[reassures]

She is indeed volunteering to keep an eye on Linden, and though she doesn't quite manage a smile when the Bartender doesn't try to call for 6's escort her expression is nonetheless grateful.

Nill lets him take her hand, and for him at least she manages the slightest flicker of a smile, more ghost than real, but it's there nonetheless. He's barely holding himself together, but Nill had been afraid in the Arena that if she made it out Linden might not actually be around anymore. He'd done horribly the day before the Arena, and she hadn't been able to really make sure he was okay before the Peacekeepers came. It only takes one overdose to kill someone. Seeing him is the closest she's gotten to real relief since she woke up.

She gives his hand a very gentle squeeze, and spares the bartender a glance, when Linden tries to get yet more alcohol.

There's no honest way to answer the question, and with his eyes closed he might feel her shrug more than see it. But she's quick to carefully tug on his hand after and gesture towards a table further from the screen. Sitting down would be a good idea, maybe. Minimize interaction with the Bartender, if staying here is what Linden wants to do.

[dead_black_eyes]

The bartender's expression is what could be called "deflated exasperation." He relaxes, but is nevertheless at the end of his rope; he is a citizen of the Capitol and true to his nature as such, he appreciates volunteers in all things. His eyes and the dismissive wave shake of his outstretched hand says he's all yours, and he turns away, busying himself polishing some glasses while still keeping an eye on them through the barback's mirror.

Linden's not drunk yet; he hasn't reached the point where his eyes are unfocused and his speech is slurred and imprecise. But he's agitated, quick to flinch and snap, and it's a frightfully good thing that Nill and her reliable gentleness have intervened. The squeeze she gives his hand is responded to with a tighter one, as if he's gripping a lifeline. The last time they saw each other, he hadn't properly known what he was seeing, and had awoken, sober, with the Arena already in full swing. His guilt had stung him then, and driven him promptly back to the behaviors that had fueled it in the first place.

The shrug makes him open his eyes, because even though they're bleary, and they're hurting and hungover, her answer is going to require more searching if he wants anything like a complete one. He averts his glance as she starts to pull him toward a back table, suddenly embarrassed.

"You're not," he says hollowly as they walk. "Of course you're not, you... I can vouch for you, if you want to be a citizen. A petition... you could be. I could help..."

[hit_girl_mindy]

"Hey."

She'd actually been looking for Nill, and of all the places to find her, she imagined this would be one place where people who were at their lowest would be. It was sad: she thought that Nill could certainly do better than the bar, at least not one where everyone could see you.

"I think I might have missed you in the Arena. Been out of it awhile, by all rights I would be in here myself. How did it go?"

[reassures]

This isn't lowest. Lowest is sitting in a place that a dead loved one lived in and not being able to get rid of it. Lowest is going about your life and making reckless choices, drinking while at work, getting yourself and someone else that you love killed. that is, by far and above all else, lowest.

This is not. This is watching the Arena in a place where she doesn't need to subject other people to it. This is sitting far off to the side and, to most people, drinking a coffee while she watches the Arena. There are so many worse things than this.

Nill takes a small sip from her drink after blowing on it, and she lifts her head towards Mindy. Instead of reaching for her pen, after a moment of consideration she just points at the screen.

The Arena is still on. It says enough, she thinks.

[hit_girl_mindy]

"Yeah, there it goes."

In the end, Mindy had to remind herself that it was important to keep up with the way things went down: she worried about her tributes, and even about people who weren't; Aang, Korra, Kenny. The hardest part was getting your psyche to bend to the games' will, and some people went crazy doing that even though they weren't given a choice. Some let themselves die in it in purpose, and they got punished.

"Are you used to stuff like this, you know, where you come from? Not the murder arena and fighting, I mean, you know, just death itself that doesn't really have any rhyme or reason?"

That was always a good place to start. Mindy had been lucky enough to be prepared for all that.

[reassures]

Was she used to senseless violence?

It's a difficult question to answer, in part because she's not sure how she could not be used to it. It's easy to forget that worlds exist where children don't grow up needing to fight, or seeing others fight. While certain that Mindy isn't one of those people, she could maybe understand that not everyone here has seen things like that. Or at least, maybe they hadn't before the Arena. Now everyone had.

She takes another sip from her drink, and reaches for the napkin dispenser.

I've seen a lot of bad things.

As far as how those things happened, very few quite had the same impact that these games did.

[hit_girl_mindy]

(OOC: Sorry to say, I am no longer in The Games anymore! It was great playing with you!)

[a_minute_younger]

It's been an odd week back at the Tribute Center, mostly because of how quiet it all seems. Sure, Gary wasn't the first to die, not by a long shot--but most of his closer acquaintances are still in the Arena when he died in the middle of week one, and those that come back are not nearly as chipper to be back where the food and shelter are reasonable as he has been. Gary wonders if he should be disappointed that they're not around, disappointed that he didn't last as long as they did, or happy that his friends are succeeding where he's failed. Ultimately he decides to focus on immediate events instead. That usually works out.

Today is a good example. It's a bit too early for drinks, he thinks, until he sees Nill sitting alone at a table. Gary's expression immediately brightens. Ah, but she's not looking too happy, and doesn't have anything interesting sharing the table; maybe he should prepare for something a bit more involved. Gary orders a coffee and makes his way over in short order.

"Hi!" That's the only warning Nill gets before Gary pulls out a chair and joins her on the opposite side. He's blocking the television, but not on purpose. "How's it going?"

[reassures]

Well this certainly feels like deja vu, doesn't it? She's pretty sure the last time she spent much time at this bar that Gary had found her eventually. Granted, he'd also made a lot of dick jokes, but still.

Nill jumps slightly when he suddenly takes a seat a cross from her, obviously a bit surprised though it doesn't last long. As if to make sure that none of his injuries from the Arena lingered after his revival she gives him a quick look over. Evidently satisfied, she pulls her blanket a little tighter around herself, and grabs a napkin from the dispenser on the table.

long day.
how are you doing?

[a_minute_younger]

Without the distraction of notes or books, Gary actually pays attention to Nill this time. She's...looking him over. Why? Her eyes seem to settle on his arm, so he looks there, too, gives it an experimental shake before the pieces click together.

"Oh! Yeah, that's fine." Gary nods with a bright, chipper smile. "They fixed everything up when I came back. Cool how that works, isn't it?" ...However that works, exactly. Gary remains very confused about what to believe there. "How can you have a long day? The day's hardly started!"

[reassures]

Nill has no idea how she should even process Gary's cheerfulness, let alone how little he thinks of the way he was revived and stitched back together. She feels about the same now as she did the first time they brought her back, which is to say, disgusted and violated. She'd rather have the scars.

why are you so happy?

It's the second time in about as many weeks that she's asked him that, but it's hard to not be confused. Gary's reactions always seem so far removed from what she would typically expect from someone.

[a_minute_younger]

That is not an answer to any of the questions Gary had asked. His smile fades in stages, replaced by a small, confused frown.

"Why not?" It's a legitimate question, but inspired more from concern than actual curiosity. He's finding it difficult to ignore how troubled Nill looks. Is it because of him? The fact that he died? Gary jumps on that excuse as soon as he thinks of it. "--I'm not mad about loosing or anything. We're all here now and we can hang out again! I'm happy about that."

(sorry for the late tag in)

[pythianjudgment]

Terezi has been around for a few days now. Her death wasn't as bad as it could have been, all things considered, but it was still more sudden than she thought it would be. It had taken her a few minutes upon waking up to fully convince herself that her arm was still firmly attached. The fingers at the end of that arm felt like a novel experience, and it had been more than a hour before she could drag herself from her room.

At this point in time, however, she could honestly say that she's doing fairly well. Her thoughts don't drift nearly as often to the memory of the appendage lying on the ground--or the dismantling of the mechanical creature that the Capitol has wired with Kurloz's voice. She still hasn't stopped having nightmares, but at least her thoughts during the day have relented.

And when they haven't, she's taken to carrying around a bag of sweets to take her mind off of the terrible things. It helps, as much as anything can. It's these that she carries now over to Nill's side. She places some on the counter.

"Welcome back," she greets, taking a seat and pushing the candies towards her. "How are you feeling?"

no worries <3

[reassures]

Nill got to see plenty of it in Karkat's head, not to worry. He was still torn up about it when Nill was dying - her own death only added to the suffering and self-loathing on his shoulders.

It's not that she's stunned to see Terezi, but she wasn't someone that Nill had been expecting to see so quickly after her revival. She's not so sure what to do at first, but she picks up one of the candies, turning it over in her fingers a few times before setting it down. She has no appetite.

She reaches for her pen, and realizes with a small frown that she has no crayon, and the pen isn't terribly colorful or large. Terezi seemed to get by with larger visuals without much effort, so she holds the pen up to show her. Terezi doesn't have any crayons with her, does she?

[pythianjudgment]

Nill shows her the pen, and it's then that Terezi remembers that she can't speak. She got so used to hearing the girl's voice in her head during the arena. It's a shame that the Capitol has blocked that means of communication for her.

Terezi proceeds to pat down her pockets, scrunching her mouth to thee side in concentration. She usually has at least something on her--There! She pulls a red marker from her pocket, one of the thick fat ones that is good for coloring. Probably not so good for licking, but at least a marker can draw on almost anything.

"Here, you can use this."

[reassures]

Red today? Interesting. Terezi must just carry around whatever suits her fancy at the time. She takes the marker when it's offered to her, and after a moment to see how think the tip is she grabs a napkin.

thank you.
do you know if karkat is still alive?

Yeah, she's not wasting any time with that one. Nill has no idea how long she was out before she was revived, and she'd spent enough time down in that room before leaving again that something definitely could have happened to him.

[pythianjudgment]

"For now, yeah." Terezi flexes her hand subconsciously, rubbing her fingers together like the feeling calms her a little bit. That question brings to mind her own sacrifice to keep Karkat alive, however futile it might have been in the long run.

"He'll be okay for a little while." But the odds aren't exactly in his favor, so to speak. She's not certain of the exact course of the future, but with the number of timelines out there... He doesn't come out on top in a while lot of them.

"Thank you, for watching out for him. And the... other thing." The thing that she doesn't really want to talk about. The thing that sounded like Kurloz but wasn't Kurloz, and she still has nightmares about those noises that it made.