Dᴏᴍɪɴɪǫᴜᴇ ᴅ̶ᴇ̶ Cᴏᴜʀғᴇʏʀᴀᴄ。 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
libertin) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2014-07-07 06:47 pm
libertin) wrote in thecapitol2014-07-07 06:47 pm
Entry tags:
Freedom is within you
Who| Courfeyrac & Open
What| Post-Arena life adjustments and such. Basically, Max & Cindy are both gone and his world is a bit more dim.
Where| Training room, or elsewhere if you prefer.
When| Forwarded to after Max is killed by Kevin in the Arena, but before she's come back.
Warnings/Notes| Talk of character death? Tag in whatever format you like, just specify location!
Courfeyrac felt numb. Every ounce of emotion had been drained from him, every hope was gone. He'd been almost glued to the television once it got down to the final two. Max and Kevin. Vengeance would be hers and she would win and then he could go back into the Arena knowing that she was safe at least. But fate had other ideas, and as he watched the screen helplessly, his sister was turned to a bloody, lifeless mess.
It was enough to make him sick. It was enough to drain him of every human feeling, and once he felt empty, he was quickly overcome by a second wind of unstoppable rage.
He stalked out of the common area of the District 11 suite and toward his own room, literally knocking things over in his fury as he stormed passed. Furniture was kicked over, mahogany table flipped. If there had been china or glass around, he'd have thrown it to the ground. All he could see when he closed his eyes was her body, bloodied and mangled, with Kevin looming over her like a giant. Courfeyrac hadn't been so pissed off in a long time.
But that might've been it. It could have ended there. A day or two of rage over the injustice of watching Max die and he would have gotten over it. Except the hours continued to tick by and she had yet to return. He'd expected that she would come running to him, or bound up to him and scold him for fretting, at the very least. Instead, she was gone. Vanished. No more. Just like Cinderella.
He was so close to becoming morose over it all. That happy, jovial gent was ready to retire for good and let the sullen, mournful brat replace him forever. He didn't care about anything anymore. He had nothing left. His lover was gone. His language was gone. And now, the one bright spot that he'd cherished had disappeared too. Of course, there were friends and other company, but what good were they when he'd left his dear little Max all alone to die?
He couldn't stand the guilt. So instead, he took to beating the crap out of the available training dummies. He might not get the chance to kill Kevin with his bare hands, but he'd avenge his Max somehow.
What| Post-Arena life adjustments and such. Basically, Max & Cindy are both gone and his world is a bit more dim.
Where| Training room, or elsewhere if you prefer.
When| Forwarded to after Max is killed by Kevin in the Arena, but before she's come back.
Warnings/Notes| Talk of character death? Tag in whatever format you like, just specify location!
Courfeyrac felt numb. Every ounce of emotion had been drained from him, every hope was gone. He'd been almost glued to the television once it got down to the final two. Max and Kevin. Vengeance would be hers and she would win and then he could go back into the Arena knowing that she was safe at least. But fate had other ideas, and as he watched the screen helplessly, his sister was turned to a bloody, lifeless mess.
It was enough to make him sick. It was enough to drain him of every human feeling, and once he felt empty, he was quickly overcome by a second wind of unstoppable rage.
He stalked out of the common area of the District 11 suite and toward his own room, literally knocking things over in his fury as he stormed passed. Furniture was kicked over, mahogany table flipped. If there had been china or glass around, he'd have thrown it to the ground. All he could see when he closed his eyes was her body, bloodied and mangled, with Kevin looming over her like a giant. Courfeyrac hadn't been so pissed off in a long time.
But that might've been it. It could have ended there. A day or two of rage over the injustice of watching Max die and he would have gotten over it. Except the hours continued to tick by and she had yet to return. He'd expected that she would come running to him, or bound up to him and scold him for fretting, at the very least. Instead, she was gone. Vanished. No more. Just like Cinderella.
He was so close to becoming morose over it all. That happy, jovial gent was ready to retire for good and let the sullen, mournful brat replace him forever. He didn't care about anything anymore. He had nothing left. His lover was gone. His language was gone. And now, the one bright spot that he'd cherished had disappeared too. Of course, there were friends and other company, but what good were they when he'd left his dear little Max all alone to die?
He couldn't stand the guilt. So instead, he took to beating the crap out of the available training dummies. He might not get the chance to kill Kevin with his bare hands, but he'd avenge his Max somehow.
no subject
"I have no love for this world. I only love the people in it." He swallowed hard, deliberating his words with every breath. "I have you, I have our friends. And I have no one but you anymore."
He loved his friends. He loved them as brothers and he would die for them all one thousand times over. But he had no direction now. He was lost at sea. At least when he'd had Max and Cindy his heart had been full. Even though he'd treaded water, he felt as though he could exist without a constant state of sorrow weighing him down and drowning him.
Finally, he seemed to succumb to the weight and he sank to the floor, head in hands. "I need a distraction, Joly. I cannot be left in my own head. I cannot be left to remain useless. I do not know what to do anymore. I cannot murder the mannequins all day."
no subject
He did not doubt that Courfeyrac had the strength to go through this, but the journey itself would be a difficult climb for even Courfeyrac to go through. Joly wished that he might find a way to offer Courfeyrac something more than a hand to help him up, that he could extend a rope, or even a ladder instead. But Courfeyrac must never doubt his strength in that process, or what had gotten him through all of these horrors so far.
"I cannot say that I have love for more than the people I've met here either." Joly agreed with him. There were things in Joly's own situation that were tolerable for the moment, at least, even small amusements like the miniature figure of himself that came with a variety of miniature medical equipment and complained about various ailments when you pushed a button.
"You do have us, and you shall have us whatever happens. You have them still, though they are not with you now." Joly did not know if that thought would help, but he must try it all the same. "Those things they left you with, the person who you were with them, everything you remember are still there. No one can hold a memory." He added, a deep sigh escaping him at that, though he had not wanted to make this about himself. "I know that all too well, but one day, those will be a comfort, later."
Now, however, Joly dropped to his knees beside Courfeyrac, hoping his friend would not protest if he pulled him into a sort of backwards hug.
"Then let us find you a distraction. Come, shall we take to the streets, perhaps? Cliched as it is, some fresh air may make your body feel better at least.
no subject
"You are the doctor," he said, grabbing at Joly's arm, holding on to him loosely. "If my diagnosis calls for an outdoor adventure, then I feel I must comply."
But he made no move just then. He decided that he'd rather stay like that a moment, so that he could appreciate the kindness of his friend. So that he could appreciate the existence of him. Courfeyrac was afraid he might, in an act of thoughtlessness, take Joly for granted. Sometimes he managed to forget that if not for the Capitol, they would be dead again, and he would never see his dear brothers again.
"How selfish I've been. You are all far too tolerant of me, you realize."
no subject
It was odd to consider those who left the world, by a permanent death,or other means here and now, and whether or not they lived again somewhere else. Joly had had a difficult time in believing in a loving god when the world around him was so awful, and a harder time still in believing that the soul journeyed on, but for Courfeyrac's sake now, he hoped that such were true and that one day, long into the future, his friend would see the girls he'd loved so much again. And, well, Joly himself would rather like to be able to speak to Max again someday but in a better place. Perhaps a heaven wasstill possible. He liked the thought, at least, and now that was what counted.
And memories, at any rate, would stay with one forever. No matter where he went, or what happened,Courfeyrac would keep all of theirs.
"Every moment that you were together," He spoke quietly, reaching out a hand to slide a stray curl back from Courfeyrac's forehead. An intimacy, yes, but one that he would share with any of his brothers easily enough. "They cannot take that from you, even here." Some things could never, after all, be killed, or stomped into the ground like a discarded cigarette, or anything else that might come to mind.
"And good." He added, at Courfeyrac's agreement to going outside. "Let us find a nice park, perhaps, or a cafe of some kind. I doubt you've eaten much the last few days. And no," He added,voice verging into a sterner category now, at the last of what was said.
"Courfeyrac, of all of us, here, in Paris, or wherever else that you may be, you are the least selfish of anyone. A selfish person would not care so much as you just now, and would not have aided friends in the arenas, and, no. I will not hear you speaking of my own dear friend and brother that way, do you understand?"
i know i plurked about it before, but this was literally the best tag ^^^ <3
"I know not what I am to say," he admitted, embracing Joly once again. "Besides that I am glad you are here with me now, my friend. And that you do make a very fine doctor. I must admit, I feel much better already."
He pulled back from his friend at last, not completely back to his rightful self, but markedly on his way. "Now, let us venture onward. I shall need to fetch my hat first, of course."
He loves you a lot, bro
This time, the embrace felt more familiar, solid, and Joly truly felt as though the group of them could get him through the rough patches that lay ahead. Because he would be too idealistic to consider that it was going to be easy in the months they had ahead of them.
"And I am honored to be here with you, now." He added, a bit of a smile crossing his face now. "And I am grateful for your estimation of my skills at that. And that you are here too. If this is something that had to happen to us, then at least we are in it together. And, yes, I quite agree with that." He added, eyes darting in that way which usually warned people that they needed to be careful.
"Hats more like it." He could not help but comment, as weak as it actually was. "Anything else would be beanieth you."
;A; joly-chan
And with that, he took his friend by the arm to steer him toward the elevator which would take them to the District 11 suite where Courfeyrac could obtain his hat and maintain his vanity for yet another day. The spell of sorrow had alleviated, for the moment, but it would lurk under the surface for awhile, waiting until the distractions had run their course. But for the moment, he had good company in a man who knew and understood him. And what more could he ask for, really? Revenge would have its day, and today was not it. So why not sip some wine and remember why life was worth living?
come to him! He will make it better!
"A few are actually even beret funny. I do hope none go over someone's head..." " He continued, joining Courfeyrac on their way up. Were bad puns a part of why life was living then? For people who were not Joly himself that was? Either way, he could keep going, and he meant to now. Well, that and seeing to Courfeyrac, of course. Prevention was the better way to keep someone from relapse, even if you had plenty of the proper medication.