acroodawakening: (004)
Guy Crood ([personal profile] acroodawakening) wrote in [community profile] thecapitol2014-05-13 11:31 pm

this place is a narrative mess

Who| Closed to Guy and his close CR
What| Guy is brought back to the Tribute Center
Where| District 6 and Guy's room
When| The night of the expose when he's returned and the next morning after.
Warnings/Notes| CW: Possible mention of bidding, mental trauma/dissociation, the usual for someone's that dealt with Penny



When the Peacekeepers brought him back, Guy was silent, floating along like a ghost next to them. His face was still blotchy from the crying and his eyes were red-rimmed but there was no emotion on his face. He'd shut down. Sometimes it was okay to take time to be sad and sometimes you got so sad you had to not think but it had never been like this.

He had always been someone that dealt with his feelings as they came and only shoved them aside for later if he was facing something life or death. Then when it was over, he dealt with them, felt them, and moved on.

This had finally pushed him beyond that. He'd felt so much - so much fear and despair and misery - that something had collapsed in itself and now there was just a dull buzzing behind his ears.

The world no longer made sense and the worst part of it was that the things that did make sense, like his story, like the life he'd shaped for himself, had been taken away from him. His story had been twisted into something else and now it didn't belong to him anymore.

Now it would be what they wanted it to be and he would be the thing they wanted him to be and there was nothing he could do about it, except hope that he got boring enough they cut the thread that tied him to this new life and let him drift away. Now his life would be just like the emptiness inside a shell instead of the patterns on the outside or the sounds it could make.
swill: poppyapples.dw (pic#)

[personal profile] swill 2014-05-16 06:33 pm (UTC)(link)
He'd peer in, but that seemed too invasive. The wait was excruciating and Hawkeye ran some scenarios through his mind- one of them being that there might actually not be anyone in the room and that he'd been fooled. Then Hawkeye hears something and he brightens up- his eyes widen and he can't tell if he's supposed to crack a grin at the game, so he sits himself down where he was instead and told himself to look amused. He didn't want to, but no harm in playing along. After all, Hawkeye's pretty sure he invited it. So he crosses his legs and places his hands on his knees and leans a little forward and owlishly tries to get a look at what's going on inside the little hut.

Then Hawkeye pretends he sees something he wants, and an 'ah-ha' expression takes over, smug and pleased and 'I knew that' plastered all over. His body language was as good at being obnoxiously loud as his words. Hawkeye nods. Tai. Tie? "What, you're not going offer to take a message? I want my subscription terminated." Okay. "Okay Tie, I'm Bullseye. Real name's Francis Barber Pierce, but that's a mouthful. I'm a tree surgeon and I despise the color green. -I know, right? Talk about a conundrum. Anyway, my twin- he's a block head. Literally has a blocky head. Should probably see a doctor about that. He goes around calling himself Hawkeye of all things, and anyway he's gone home, too. There's lobster to eat and honeysuckle to sniff, and the sounds of the ocean to fall asleep to. Before he left, though, he said, 'Bullseye, go find Guy and ask him if he wants a piece of this pie'- it's banana cream, really good- 'and I said, but Hawkeye what if I don't find Guy?' And he said, 'then ask Tai if he wants Guy's pie'. Though I'd rather keep it all to myself, so never say I'm not a nice guy, Tai."

Ouch, his tongue. Pierce takes a deep breath and leans back and says, "Do you want some of Hawkeye's pie for Guy, Tai?" After all that, he hopes he at least gets a little better news than the fact Guy's thought to abandon himself, even if it was under a playful mask. "If you say No, I'm going to keep talking and that's going to be detrimental to our health."
swill: poppyapples.dw (ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sᴇᴀsᴏɴ)

[personal profile] swill 2014-05-18 07:00 pm (UTC)(link)
It was all he could do to keep from scrubbing a hand down his face. Sidney, Sidney, Sidney- help. Somebody- anybody- who had an idea on how to proceed was welcome to crash in through the door at any instant now, and Hawkeye would slap them on the back and offer support. It was easier when patients could be told 'you're going home soon- it's all okay because it's over', or just 'you'll go home someday' at all. Guy's voice and noises placate Hawkeye at least a little though he's almost convinced the small laughter was more for his sake than genuine. Still, he offers a quick and chiding smile. "That's a myth, ya know. An urban legend like sewer gators or Democracy. If I liked to talk to myself, I'd stick to thinking. And I'll tell you this: it's not as much fun doing it alone but it boosts the ego. There isn't a single argument with myself that I've lost. I'm unbeatable. I'm amazing. I'm a tsar of speech."

He sighs, hunches over so he can prop his chin up against a hand, his elbow resting on his knee. A cat folded over quite neatly. "And I came here wondering if you'd like to let me see how you're doing. So far you haven't. Guy, I'd like to talk. Gorgeous as my voice is, sometimes it feels like nails on a chalkboard to me. I'm worried here."
swill: poppyapples.dw (sʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴏᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɴᴜᴍʙᴇʀs)

[personal profile] swill 2014-05-23 03:39 am (UTC)(link)
It was hard to drag yourself away from where you wanted to be and Hawkeye could understand that. He still felt hurt at the rejection which made the next small promise relieving. He nearly sighed again, but sighing twice in under a minute was either bad form or something only Margaret could do. He bit his tongue, kind of chewed on it and held it between his teeth, his mouth closed shut, wondering what he'd see emerge. Wondering if he should push more for openness or if he should wade along with the set pace. He specialized in bodies, not minds. But when Guy's head poked out, he wasn't met with a stone wall of indifference that came with pondering. Hawkeye simply brightened.

So he was late to the party and the guilt of seeing the exhaustion felt like a sucker punch, but he brightened because he wasn't going to be talking to nothingness now. He inched nearer. Hawkeye pointed at his own hair and said, "You know, I think Tai had better hair." Followed inevitably by, "How are you feeling?" with equal parts concern and solidity shared between his expression and tone, though there was no indication that Hawkeye was waiting on any one particular reply. He'd allow a color name as an answer if he got it. He'd work with it. But to keep moving, he thought, was essential.
swill: poppyapples.dw (pic#)

[personal profile] swill 2014-05-23 07:01 pm (UTC)(link)
"It's just me in here, and I'm not going to hurt you if ever want to get some fresh air. Your room's cooler than mine is." And he left out the you know that belonged somewhere in there because he wasn't sure Guy knew, after all. But if this was a waiting game, Hawkeye could wait. "I guess if there's a filter, I must have clogged it already. I have a lot of the little devices running almost all the time, so that might also be it. The electricity generates heat. I like the one where it projects the forest or a beach on a wall and you can even hear it. It drowns out the roommates." He made himself more comfortable still, bringing his knees up, resting his back against the corner of the bed. It was like he was waiting out one of Radar's lost critters that had wedged itself under a plank, and Hawkeye soon makes a small grimace at the comparison, not all that happy with it. Not all that happy with Guy, but he just didn't know what he should expect. And the worms twirling in his stomach were starting to gnaw at his insides already, too.

Hawkeye hadn't seen Sidney run a hand down his face or through his hair before, and so he keeps from it himself. "Rotten? You? The guy who wished flying scorpions on the world but helps perfect strangers when he can? Do you want to tell me why? If you don't, I- sometimes it helps to talk about it with someone who will just be there to listen. Makes you feel better sometimes, or just different, which is also sometimes better. I don't do much to inspire confidence on this one detail, but I like listening a lot more than I like talking." Hawkeye waits a second, taps a foot. No, no, he can't parrot Sidney all the way through and he might as well stop it there. "I like helping people. And I want to help you, because I know you need something right now but I don't know what. I don't want to make you uncomfortable, either. So it'd help us both if you... talk a little, for a little while. I'm not going to force you into anything, but I don't know what you need right now that I can give you."