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.
;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.