Dave Strider (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
shenunigans) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2014-07-28 01:45 am
shenunigans) wrote in thecapitol2014-07-28 01:45 am
Entry tags:
Mmm watcha say
Who| Dave and OPEN with some closed prompts
What| Dead one day, back tomorrow. Accepting that you're probably not okay is hard.
Where| D9, D6 and the roof top
When| Just after the mini-arena.
Warnings/Notes| N/A
It's no surprise that he wakes up with a jolt. He'd passed out the moment his body slammed against the water and he'd been colder than he's ever been in his whole life. He can still see Clara's face ingrained in his fucking memory like a broken Etch A Sketch and he doesn't understand why he would feel guilty. He did a good thing, a great thing, he's too nervous to find out if Clem and Clara made it without him, he thinks he'd do anything to avoid seeing their reactions.
Feeling around on the bedside table finds him his shades and he presses them on his face like it hurt to be without them. It's not even that he's self conscious, not anymore, it's just that having that little reminder of the present his best friend gave him is pretty damn important at this point in time. He feels more like himself with them, because he doesn't really want to remember who he was in the arena. He clung to his brother, threw a guy overboard, nearly drove himself to killing someone else and sacrificed himself for a girl he'd spoken to three or four times. The last part, he thinks, he probably wouldn't change, but he could do without hearing about it.
Despite the wide variety of viable and fashionable clothing, he's opting for a stylishly worn shirt and red pajama pants that no stylist would ever hope to see him in. His clock print boxers stick out the top because he's too cool to pull his damn pants up and he drags his feet out of his room in search for people to distract him from his pity party.
There's a letter taped to his door and he tweaks it off, wondering who else saw it before he tucks it into the waistband of his pants and makes his way to his first self appointed task of the day.
[District 9 Suites]
Once Dave is back from his morning trip, he descends upon the couch shamelessly and claims it as his own. He's sprawled across it with a game controller resting on his stomach, but he isn't playing anything. He'd just prefer to be out somewhere he can see people rather than holed up in his room feeling sorry for himself. He's dreading some of the conversations, but he's confident he can derail them into something inane.
[The Roof]
By the time Dave makes it up here, it's well and truly night but not too dark. The view is pretty good, and if you squint, it doesn't look too different from home. It's relaxing to sit out here alone, even if he feels something like a stoner and a loner doing it. He feels a little more zen than he did, but deep down there's a niggling feeling. It's the guilt of feeling settled here in some ways and the discomfort of being jerked around so much. There isn't really a middle ground for it, you either settle or you fight it so much that things will never be the same. It's a tough pill to swallow, but if you can't be deep the day after you were meant to die then when the hell can you?
What| Dead one day, back tomorrow. Accepting that you're probably not okay is hard.
Where| D9, D6 and the roof top
When| Just after the mini-arena.
Warnings/Notes| N/A
It's no surprise that he wakes up with a jolt. He'd passed out the moment his body slammed against the water and he'd been colder than he's ever been in his whole life. He can still see Clara's face ingrained in his fucking memory like a broken Etch A Sketch and he doesn't understand why he would feel guilty. He did a good thing, a great thing, he's too nervous to find out if Clem and Clara made it without him, he thinks he'd do anything to avoid seeing their reactions.
Feeling around on the bedside table finds him his shades and he presses them on his face like it hurt to be without them. It's not even that he's self conscious, not anymore, it's just that having that little reminder of the present his best friend gave him is pretty damn important at this point in time. He feels more like himself with them, because he doesn't really want to remember who he was in the arena. He clung to his brother, threw a guy overboard, nearly drove himself to killing someone else and sacrificed himself for a girl he'd spoken to three or four times. The last part, he thinks, he probably wouldn't change, but he could do without hearing about it.
Despite the wide variety of viable and fashionable clothing, he's opting for a stylishly worn shirt and red pajama pants that no stylist would ever hope to see him in. His clock print boxers stick out the top because he's too cool to pull his damn pants up and he drags his feet out of his room in search for people to distract him from his pity party.
There's a letter taped to his door and he tweaks it off, wondering who else saw it before he tucks it into the waistband of his pants and makes his way to his first self appointed task of the day.
[District 9 Suites]
Once Dave is back from his morning trip, he descends upon the couch shamelessly and claims it as his own. He's sprawled across it with a game controller resting on his stomach, but he isn't playing anything. He'd just prefer to be out somewhere he can see people rather than holed up in his room feeling sorry for himself. He's dreading some of the conversations, but he's confident he can derail them into something inane.
[The Roof]
By the time Dave makes it up here, it's well and truly night but not too dark. The view is pretty good, and if you squint, it doesn't look too different from home. It's relaxing to sit out here alone, even if he feels something like a stoner and a loner doing it. He feels a little more zen than he did, but deep down there's a niggling feeling. It's the guilt of feeling settled here in some ways and the discomfort of being jerked around so much. There isn't really a middle ground for it, you either settle or you fight it so much that things will never be the same. It's a tough pill to swallow, but if you can't be deep the day after you were meant to die then when the hell can you?
no subject
"Loki? Loki." He says it the second time with the voice of a young man with a keen rivalry fueling in him. A rivalry of ironic shipping escapades and trickery. "No. I already told you, she has a boyfriend. I told her if she ever wanted to bang with me, it'd be because she wanted to and we left it at that." He shrugs. "I mean not after she touched my hair and called me good-looking." He flexes his shoulders up and down, and he's para-phrasing. Beautiful is the word she used, but he won't tell Bro that.
"I don't think he's a god so much as an alien. He's nineteen for some reason, don't even ask. It's just a new thing I'm trying." He says finally with a shrug. He's not sure how Bro would take the idea that he and Loki have in the works, so he doesn't say anything. "Gimme that."
no subject
A part of him is a little disappointed to hear that Dave is just giving up on Eponine like that, but he supposes he can't blame him. Taken women are difficult and full of drama, and if you have an alien god thing as a backup then you fucking go for the alien god if the french girl falls through. Bro clicks his tongue, shaking his head lightly. "Another alien," he notes, his tone the opposite of surprised, but he won't say anything more on the subject, nor would he point out how Loki is a manipulative bitch like some people Dave knows.
Finally, Bro concedes and gives Dave the letter. "So he called you good looking and rubbed you. I'd say you're one step away from marriage at this rate." He can't resist being an ass- except he never stopped, so that's irrelevant. "Alright, so the real question here is what're you gonna do? I swear your romance life is like a fucking soap here. Who would've thought murder games would've brought out all your hidden swag?"
no subject
Once he gets the letter, he's snatching it and stepping away from Bro as if having him there would make it harder for him to read the letter. His eyes scan over it a few times and the heat in his cheeks from being flustered betrays him somewhat. He pulls a face that doesn't look particularly happy, if only because he's been one upped.
"Do I have to do anything?" He raises his brows over his shades. "I dunno. There's a lot going on, guess there aren't many viable teen boys for the ladies.. and, uh, Loki to go for." He shrugs. "Another chick asked me out at crowning. Batman's daughter, Helena. She's hot too." He sounds like he's increasingly aware of how bad this is getting. "I said yes. To her. But now I dunno."
no subject
It's definitely betraying, don't even think Bro doesn't notice it. This is the kind of shit he lives for, so he's eating it up like it's an all you can eat buffet. But it's his turn to look surprised, which doesn't happen often. He digs a little in his ear to make sure it ain't clogged and that he actually heard right. Batman's daughter. Batman's goddamn daughter.
"Forget everyone else," he says. "No one else matters anymore. You're dating Batman's daughter. It isn't even a question."
He has a lot of Batman feelings, and Dave should know this.
no subject
He can't deny the fact that the guilt is niggling hard at his stomach. At this point he feels like he's leading everyone on, because he has absolutely no idea what he's doing. He opens his mouth and he flirts, he looks at people and he flirts and he stands in the general vicinity of people and flirts. And he kisses people's girlfriends, like a monumental fuck up. But he's starting to lose faith in the possibility of that ever happening, so he tells Bro otherwise to make himself believe it.
"Who said she even wants to date me? There's no chance Batman is gonna come in and drink with you because I happen to be holding his daughter's hand. He'd probably kill me, and you. He'll kill me with you." He just gives Bro a flat look. "She asked me out once and uh. Loki killed her at some point. So that happened. That was awkward." He's going to slink back to Bro's bed to flop face down on it. "I hate it here."
no subject
He lets out an unimpressed grunt, even if it's probably the truth. A truth he won't accept, though. Fuck you, Batman would totally cross universes for him, he's sure of it. Okay, maybe it would be to kill him but hey, death by Batman would be so much more preferable than any other death. He's about to retort when Dave flops onto his bed and he hears his muffled words. His big bro instincts kind of kick in, and he feels like maybe he ought to change the subject.
With a quiet sigh, he slips over and sits on the edge of the bed and reaches out to give Dave a pat on the back. "You wanna get a pizza or somethin'?" he asks. "Veg out on the couch and just forget all this shit for a while."
no subject
Like pizza. Early in the morning.
He grunts and rolls away from the pat, moving onto his back so he can give Bro a dirty look. "That doesn't sound like part of a nutritious breakfast." Said nobody ever, but his mind is still on romantic crap and he can't help being curious. "So how many love letters are you getting daily? Hundred? Hundred thousand?"
no subject
But he does cringe a little when Dave decided to bring up his love life. Do they really have to go there? It's not like he's secretive about it, but at the same time he doesn't really like talking about it either. It's just what it is. But Dave's been honest with him, so he feels pretty obligated to return the favor and be honest with him.
"Hundred million, more like," he says with a dismissive shrug. He'll let that hang in the air for a moment before letting out a 'heh' and leaning back on his elbow, drawing his legs up onto the bed. "Not many though, in all honesty. There's a lot of choice ass here, but I'd rather keep it to the tributes than mix with the locals and the tributes are pretty fuckin' picky. Who'da thought?"
That's not entirely true though. "'s this one stylist though. Pretty rad, I guess. Dunno." Admitting to Dave that he has a thing for one of the locals is more awkward than he expected.
no subject
His brows raise over his shades, but he tries not to look too interested. It's weird hearing this stuff about Bro, being old enough to care and old enough not to be dismissed over it. He hates this situation, but he can't deny that he almost feels closer to Bro through it all, so he'll relish the moment.
"Most of the adults have sticks up their butts, from what I've seen." He shrugs. "They're all like saviors of the universe on their dumb planets." He can think of a few cool ones, but he doesn't want to go out of his way to hook Bro up with anyone he approves of just yet, but we'll see. He has no strong opinions on the locals, honestly. Dystopias are founded on uninformed masses, they're all just dumb asses stuck in their farm and there really aren't many around his age in the tower to connect with. He is very fond of Cecil, though he's one of them now. A tribute.
"Yeah?" He knows that I guess and dunno is the universal term for pretending something isn't serious, he does it all the time. "You can't drop details like that without giving me a name. At least a district number, c'mon." Please don't let it be Oceana.
no subject
"Yes I can," he says dismissively, though after a moment he just rolls his eyes. "You know, that drag queen stylist?" he asks. "The loud one." He pauses for a moment, as he realizes that both drag queens are pretty fucking loud. "I mean the louder one." Like that clarifies everything. But in his opinion, Jolie is certainly the louder of the two. She has a voice that could wake the dead, in his opinion. And it's beautiful.
no subject
"You're redefining bisexuality for everyone, you go-getter." A very, very tiny smirk plays at his lips. "Is it for serious?"
no subject
It's at the next comment that he lets out a snort. "That was the plan. If I accomplished one thing in my life, I always did want to redefine a sexuality." He shakes his head, feeling himself slipping back into awkward at the question. "Define "for serious" and I might have an answer for you."
no subject
He pulls a face at the mental image, dismissing Bro's pride for the question. "I dunno. Never mind. Dumb question." It's Bro, after all. He's pretty sure he doesn't have to think about a mom-dad in the future for a while. "Congrats on the sex, probably."