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)
thecapitol2014-09-18 04:26 pm
shenunigans) wrote in thecapitol2014-09-18 04:26 pm
Entry tags:
why you procrastinate grrrl? [closed]
WHO| Dave and Elsa, Oceana
WHAT| Dave gets back to the capitol, gets a haircut and has a nightmare. woo.
WHEN| Start of week 4
WHERE| District 9 quarters
WARNINGS| Talk of death and shit.
[Oceana.]
A stylist appointment is the last thing on his mind, but he doesn't really care enough to fight it. He has nothing better to do, so he might as well let Oceana primp him up while he does some backstage work for the people still stuck in the Arena. His assets are frozen, so he's useless, his best shot is to be heartwarming enough to get some shit sent in from weirdos who like his hair cut. When he looks in the mirror, he can definitely see the benefit of it. He looks better than he did when he came in the Arena given that he'd gone straight from prison to fighting, but the tiredness is showing and really, his hair has always been pretty damn scruffy.
He looks almost gormless when he wanders into the workroom, but at least he didn't have to be nagged or escorted. He's pointedly come in looking like he rolled out of bed and threw on his shades, he might as well give Oceana something fun to focus on.
"Hey, I'm dead." He calls out, which she probably knew already. "All ready for my surf 'n turf."
[Elsa.]
There hasn't been any avoidance as far as Elsa is concerned, even if he's been tired since he hauled his ass back. After he'd been patched up he'd had doctor visits and stylists appointments to deal with and there hasn't been a good time to really talk things out. They're both getting better at opening up, but it's easy to see when they need a little more time to think on it. Dave feels so many levels of stupid and embarrassed. He feels like he fucked up big time, but he knows he can't keep blaming himself. It's just how the game is, and he was never going to win, there's so much he'd do differently given the chance to reflect.
Maybe he'd spent too long reflecting, too long trying to think about how he could have fought harder or avoided the situation entirely. It makes for restless sleep, strained sounds escaping his lips as he buries further into his pillow. He's never tossed much even in during nightmares, he tends to curl more than anything, making more expressions with his face than he manages in a day. He doesn't feel like he's asleep, how could he sleep through the sound of sirens? It's a warped rendition of what he lived through the other day, but it's coupled with his usual default nightmare involving the sounds of ghost murders. Shit sounds pretty awful, so it's no surprise it's giving him a headache even though he can't manage to wake up from it. The occasional exhale is followed by a grunt or a curse and his fingers dig into the pillow, utterly unaware of the state he's in when he's this deep into a dream.
WHAT| Dave gets back to the capitol, gets a haircut and has a nightmare. woo.
WHEN| Start of week 4
WHERE| District 9 quarters
WARNINGS| Talk of death and shit.
[Oceana.]
A stylist appointment is the last thing on his mind, but he doesn't really care enough to fight it. He has nothing better to do, so he might as well let Oceana primp him up while he does some backstage work for the people still stuck in the Arena. His assets are frozen, so he's useless, his best shot is to be heartwarming enough to get some shit sent in from weirdos who like his hair cut. When he looks in the mirror, he can definitely see the benefit of it. He looks better than he did when he came in the Arena given that he'd gone straight from prison to fighting, but the tiredness is showing and really, his hair has always been pretty damn scruffy.
He looks almost gormless when he wanders into the workroom, but at least he didn't have to be nagged or escorted. He's pointedly come in looking like he rolled out of bed and threw on his shades, he might as well give Oceana something fun to focus on.
"Hey, I'm dead." He calls out, which she probably knew already. "All ready for my surf 'n turf."
[Elsa.]
There hasn't been any avoidance as far as Elsa is concerned, even if he's been tired since he hauled his ass back. After he'd been patched up he'd had doctor visits and stylists appointments to deal with and there hasn't been a good time to really talk things out. They're both getting better at opening up, but it's easy to see when they need a little more time to think on it. Dave feels so many levels of stupid and embarrassed. He feels like he fucked up big time, but he knows he can't keep blaming himself. It's just how the game is, and he was never going to win, there's so much he'd do differently given the chance to reflect.
Maybe he'd spent too long reflecting, too long trying to think about how he could have fought harder or avoided the situation entirely. It makes for restless sleep, strained sounds escaping his lips as he buries further into his pillow. He's never tossed much even in during nightmares, he tends to curl more than anything, making more expressions with his face than he manages in a day. He doesn't feel like he's asleep, how could he sleep through the sound of sirens? It's a warped rendition of what he lived through the other day, but it's coupled with his usual default nightmare involving the sounds of ghost murders. Shit sounds pretty awful, so it's no surprise it's giving him a headache even though he can't manage to wake up from it. The occasional exhale is followed by a grunt or a curse and his fingers dig into the pillow, utterly unaware of the state he's in when he's this deep into a dream.