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thecapitol2014-03-24 10:40 pm
drpsychosomatic) wrote in thecapitol2014-03-24 10:40 pm
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WHO| John and you!
WHAT| John didn't wake up in the capitol following his death in the museum arena until today. He has no idea how long he's been gone. He's about to find out.
WHEN| Before the crowning
WHERE| District 7 suite
WARNINGS| None yet, though some mentions of suicidal ideation may crop up.
It was always strange, waking up after dying, gasping, blinking far too rapidly as his mind screamed a message to his body that made no sense. Once the skin-crawling horror of knowing he was dead even as he steadied himself and focused on his very definite pulse had subsided, John supposed the day it stopped being strange would be the one he'd have to throw in the towel completely. There'd be no going back from that.
He staggered upright, rubbed at his eyes and slumped towards the bathroom to splash some water on his tired face, sending a message to Sherlock and Joan on his communicator to let them know he was back in the Capitol once he was done- I'm alive- a brief skeleton of a message, because there was a possibility that Sherlock hadn't been brought back- and while he knew that perfectly clearly on an intellectual level, he couldn't even begin to process it emotionally. Short, mostly impersonal messages that took as little effort as possible were just about all he could bring himself to potentially fling into the void.
He supposed he should check on Howard, too- he'd still been alive, last time he'd seen him, though in a pitiful state. Clutching his communicator, he limped slightly into the common area to check on the Games and wait for Sherlock and Joan to catch up with him.
If they were here.
WHAT| John didn't wake up in the capitol following his death in the museum arena until today. He has no idea how long he's been gone. He's about to find out.
WHEN| Before the crowning
WHERE| District 7 suite
WARNINGS| None yet, though some mentions of suicidal ideation may crop up.
It was always strange, waking up after dying, gasping, blinking far too rapidly as his mind screamed a message to his body that made no sense. Once the skin-crawling horror of knowing he was dead even as he steadied himself and focused on his very definite pulse had subsided, John supposed the day it stopped being strange would be the one he'd have to throw in the towel completely. There'd be no going back from that.
He staggered upright, rubbed at his eyes and slumped towards the bathroom to splash some water on his tired face, sending a message to Sherlock and Joan on his communicator to let them know he was back in the Capitol once he was done- I'm alive- a brief skeleton of a message, because there was a possibility that Sherlock hadn't been brought back- and while he knew that perfectly clearly on an intellectual level, he couldn't even begin to process it emotionally. Short, mostly impersonal messages that took as little effort as possible were just about all he could bring himself to potentially fling into the void.
He supposed he should check on Howard, too- he'd still been alive, last time he'd seen him, though in a pitiful state. Clutching his communicator, he limped slightly into the common area to check on the Games and wait for Sherlock and Joan to catch up with him.
If they were here.
no subject
no subject
He regrets it when it comes out of his mouth, but there's hurt on his face, too. John is one of the people he doesn't know if he could handle losing, and yet here he is staying in the Games for Sherlock, for that Sherlock.