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)
thecapitol2014-11-13 11:35 pm
shenunigans) wrote in thecapitol2014-11-13 11:35 pm
Entry tags:
Whatever you do, whatever you say. [closed]
Who| Dave, Feferi and Anna.
What| Both of Dave's best girls lost their guys, he decides to try consoling them simultaneously with pillows, blankets and booze.
Where| The Roof
When| After the Mini Arena, around 5pm or later. Before curfew.
Warnings/Notes| Underage drinking, talk of death
There's nothing about that Arena that wasn't a monumental fuck up. Like every Arena, Dave died horribly. Like every Arena, he woke up to find himself a few friends lighter. He'd balled up the hurt he'd felt over losing Sollux, not wanting to let on to the fact that he's so fucking mad over it. Karkat came back, he left, everything literally flipped over from the last Arena. Oddly, Dave can acquaint the feeling to something like vertigo and seasickness. He can feel it in his gut, something clenching and simmering that he doesn't have the ability to express right now. He's bone tired. Sleeping doesn't fix shit. He feels aimless and angry and sad and he didn't sign up for this. Ever.
If there's one thing that distracts him from feeling that way, it's comforting his friends. He has a lot of comforting to do, he's not the only one hurting here. He never is. He's not the type to go in for cuddles and long talks, but he's always up to distract people too. It's why he's gathered Anna and Feferi to the roof today. It's nippy out, not late enough to be totally dark and risk them missing curfew. Hopefully, it's late enough that they won't be interrupted, even if he's picked a secluded area to meet in. He'd gathered blankets and pillows for maximum vegging out, but none of this makes him feel as guilty as the bottles in the pillow cases do.
Just two. Just ones he'd pilfered when nobody was looking. Any other day, he'd nope out of the idea of turning to something like booze to solve a problem. It just takes realising that it isn't a solution to make him come around a little more. If something can take the edge off, even for a little while, why not at least try it on for size? It has nothing to do with Rose or her residual problems, he reserves the right to try something new every now and then.
And try he does. When the girls come up, he situates himself between them and they get to talking. It starts out slow, a half-hearted comment or quip here and there in between a sip. But sips became swigs and lightweights don't stand much of a chance against the harder stuff Dave brought with him. Quite rightly, it does feel good, but he doesn't know if it's because he told himself it feels good.
"Mamaaaaa, oooooohhhh..." He cuts into whatever the conversation was with the lyric, most of which had been sung in his head. His voice isn't bad, but it's flat and as disjointed as the line he just threw in the fray there. "Didn't mean to make you cryyyy..." He continues, stopping himself to think about it and snorting. "Fuck, I just sang that out loud." He scrubs a hand over his face, nudging both princesses which his shoulders as he sways himself between them. "C'mon, everyone knows that one. You're breaking my hearts- heart. My heart. The one. Broke."
What| Both of Dave's best girls lost their guys, he decides to try consoling them simultaneously with pillows, blankets and booze.
Where| The Roof
When| After the Mini Arena, around 5pm or later. Before curfew.
Warnings/Notes| Underage drinking, talk of death
There's nothing about that Arena that wasn't a monumental fuck up. Like every Arena, Dave died horribly. Like every Arena, he woke up to find himself a few friends lighter. He'd balled up the hurt he'd felt over losing Sollux, not wanting to let on to the fact that he's so fucking mad over it. Karkat came back, he left, everything literally flipped over from the last Arena. Oddly, Dave can acquaint the feeling to something like vertigo and seasickness. He can feel it in his gut, something clenching and simmering that he doesn't have the ability to express right now. He's bone tired. Sleeping doesn't fix shit. He feels aimless and angry and sad and he didn't sign up for this. Ever.
If there's one thing that distracts him from feeling that way, it's comforting his friends. He has a lot of comforting to do, he's not the only one hurting here. He never is. He's not the type to go in for cuddles and long talks, but he's always up to distract people too. It's why he's gathered Anna and Feferi to the roof today. It's nippy out, not late enough to be totally dark and risk them missing curfew. Hopefully, it's late enough that they won't be interrupted, even if he's picked a secluded area to meet in. He'd gathered blankets and pillows for maximum vegging out, but none of this makes him feel as guilty as the bottles in the pillow cases do.
Just two. Just ones he'd pilfered when nobody was looking. Any other day, he'd nope out of the idea of turning to something like booze to solve a problem. It just takes realising that it isn't a solution to make him come around a little more. If something can take the edge off, even for a little while, why not at least try it on for size? It has nothing to do with Rose or her residual problems, he reserves the right to try something new every now and then.
And try he does. When the girls come up, he situates himself between them and they get to talking. It starts out slow, a half-hearted comment or quip here and there in between a sip. But sips became swigs and lightweights don't stand much of a chance against the harder stuff Dave brought with him. Quite rightly, it does feel good, but he doesn't know if it's because he told himself it feels good.
"Mamaaaaa, oooooohhhh..." He cuts into whatever the conversation was with the lyric, most of which had been sung in his head. His voice isn't bad, but it's flat and as disjointed as the line he just threw in the fray there. "Didn't mean to make you cryyyy..." He continues, stopping himself to think about it and snorting. "Fuck, I just sang that out loud." He scrubs a hand over his face, nudging both princesses which his shoulders as he sways himself between them. "C'mon, everyone knows that one. You're breaking my hearts- heart. My heart. The one. Broke."
no subject
He complies, somehow. He makes it up to his feet and steadies himself, trying not to brace too much on Davesprite as he does. At the mock request, he mimes zipping his lips and throwing away the key and simply nods a solemn nod in regards to their upgrade.
Okay, so maybe part of the reason he's shutting up is because he wants to hurl, but that isn't important.
no subject
Well, his plan was to keep Dave from exiting the elevator on the wrong floor and push the button for 9 once the doors were closed again, but Dave's looking a little green and the last place Davesprite wants to be is in close-quarters with Mt. Vomitus when it decided to finally erupt. Maybe if they get out of the moving elevator to sit on the floor for a little bit, his wings might just get out of this vomit-free.
Dave might not want to brace on Davesprite much, but at this point there isn't much dignity left to salvage; Davesprite slings one of Dave's arms over his own shoulders, and makes a slow effort through the elevator doors and into the hall.
"Let's work on getting you some water, yeah?" Or, you know, just a toilet. Davesprite doesn't add that, though; probably better to avoid such suggestions.
Though, it doesn't look like there's much in the way of a public bathroom in these areas.
Fuck.
no subject
At the very least, he's confident that he won't hurl, but his understanding of his own body has rapidly deteriorated. Which is why he's just going to hiccup and then very quickly cover his mouth with his arm before deciding he's okay.
"Water is for fish. I'm a man. Bathe me in apple juice." He says, like apple juice is a particularly manly refreshment at all. He at least complies and follows along, but eventually a sign sticks out to him and he squints at it.
"Six.." He thinks, then it doesn't occur to him that he hit the wrong button. Nope. He lurches back in a panic over something else. "Unhand me, Judas! You're taking me to see Bro- Fuck you! I won' go alive!" At this rate, Bro will probably hear him and he's just dooming himself by yelling like he's distressed in the halls.