nill (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
reassures) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2015-01-04 04:02 pm
reassures) wrote in thecapitol2015-01-04 04:02 pm
Entry tags:
something that can wash all the pain | OTA
Who| Nill and YOU
What| Drinking and possibly crying
Where| Tribute center lounge/bar
When| Way backdated to just after Week 2
Warnings/Notes| Typical post arena warnings + alcohol warning. References to hard drugs and suicide in Linden's thread.
Nill opens her eyes, and the first thought that goes through her mind is that she wants to cry. She can't tell if it's because she's relieved or bitterly angry, but it sits like lead in the pit of her stomach, like fire, and she pulls her knees up to her chest to drown the heat of it, or else she knows it will burn through to her bones.
It may be a good thing that the Tributes don't seem to wake up in their own beds, because if they did she's not sure when she would actually find it in her to get up again. Even with where she is it's a long time before Nill can muster the energy to actually sit up again, let alone to pull the blanket from the cot around her shoulders and stand. When they let her she stumbles her way out of the room, wings folded down and blanket still held tightly around herself as she slowly makes her way up through the tower.
There's no physical pain, and that's probably the most jarring part. There are phantom aches in her skin and joints, the unmarked patch of skin where a xenomorph had stabbed a hole into her side burns, and the long stretch of her forehead that was still horribly bruised for most of the Arena throbbed, though it was completely and utterly okay now. There's not a mark on her but everything hurts, and the ache in her chest is by far the worst of it. She feels sick, and Nill wants nothing more than to sink down and not move again. She does a good job of avoiding this base instinct until she gets to the lobby, and on one of the screens there's a flash of small troll with nubby horns, thoroughly miserable and beat up but alive, and Nill freezes before she can take more than a few steps.
She gives in to the instinct, though not where she stands. Nill makes her way to the bar, gestures to borrow a pen from the bartender, and writes out an order on a napkin. He seems to tel her that she can hold on to it, and once Nill has a hot coffee that smells very much of whiskey she sits in a seat far off to the side, where she can watch the monitors.
To say she looks miserable would be putting it lightly.
What| Drinking and possibly crying
Where| Tribute center lounge/bar
When| Way backdated to just after Week 2
Warnings/Notes| Typical post arena warnings + alcohol warning. References to hard drugs and suicide in Linden's thread.
Nill opens her eyes, and the first thought that goes through her mind is that she wants to cry. She can't tell if it's because she's relieved or bitterly angry, but it sits like lead in the pit of her stomach, like fire, and she pulls her knees up to her chest to drown the heat of it, or else she knows it will burn through to her bones.
It may be a good thing that the Tributes don't seem to wake up in their own beds, because if they did she's not sure when she would actually find it in her to get up again. Even with where she is it's a long time before Nill can muster the energy to actually sit up again, let alone to pull the blanket from the cot around her shoulders and stand. When they let her she stumbles her way out of the room, wings folded down and blanket still held tightly around herself as she slowly makes her way up through the tower.
There's no physical pain, and that's probably the most jarring part. There are phantom aches in her skin and joints, the unmarked patch of skin where a xenomorph had stabbed a hole into her side burns, and the long stretch of her forehead that was still horribly bruised for most of the Arena throbbed, though it was completely and utterly okay now. There's not a mark on her but everything hurts, and the ache in her chest is by far the worst of it. She feels sick, and Nill wants nothing more than to sink down and not move again. She does a good job of avoiding this base instinct until she gets to the lobby, and on one of the screens there's a flash of small troll with nubby horns, thoroughly miserable and beat up but alive, and Nill freezes before she can take more than a few steps.
She gives in to the instinct, though not where she stands. Nill makes her way to the bar, gestures to borrow a pen from the bartender, and writes out an order on a napkin. He seems to tel her that she can hold on to it, and once Nill has a hot coffee that smells very much of whiskey she sits in a seat far off to the side, where she can watch the monitors.
To say she looks miserable would be putting it lightly.
no subject
"THERE YOU'RE GOING, SIS." He leans on down and bumps his forehead up against hers.
"You shouldn't have had at for dealing on with that. DEFINITELY NOT NO BLAMING YOURSELF." He looks like he wants to laugh, make it light, but he can't. It still weighs down, all far too heavy. He wants to ask what all she thought and felt but he doesn't want to drag his claws through no wounds either. Not anymore than what he has.
"You think as you're going to be okay?"
no subject
She sniffles again, but the forehead bump is quiet and kind, comforting, and probably one of the easiest forms of physical contact to handle that she's dealt with so far. There's nothing else it reminds her of, no reason for it to induce panic, and certainly nothing that sparks the fight-or-fly instinct. She's more than just grateful.
I will be, she signs carefully, wiping at one of her eyes again after. Nill's not sure how long it'll take to get there, but she will eventually.
But it feels like she at least needs to tell him something - to somehow justify it, because even though she said no the chance that she had nearly said yes was monstrous. It's making excuses, she knows, but she makes a few more signs before her hands go still again.
Didn't want to be alone.
no subject
It's comfortable, in its bittersweet way, just staying like this. The fact she lets him, is all the best.
"THAT'S ALRIGHT," He says, upon her confession. "I didn't want to be neither. IT'S WHY I'M HERE. I would've chosen this, even if it wasn't being the right choice. YOU GOT IT HARDER THAN ME. You still chose right. YOU STILL DID GOOD." He really can't hold it against her. Not for a moment.
"You won't be alone though. I'M GONNA MAKE MOTHERFUCKING SURE. I promise."
And she knew how, now. He was going to turn this empire right the fuck on it's head. He was going to burn the Capitol down.
oh my god she's gonna fucking kick styloz's ass this is awful
But it's different here. There are so many people working towards this goal, inside the Capitol and beyond it's walls, and Nill fully intended to help them accomplish that. This city was going to go down in flames, and even if she couldn't light the match she could still make sure there was plenty of gasoline around to spread the blaze.
I promise too, she signs, because she fully intends to stay right where she is, and she was also going to help. No matter what it took.
Just please, don't break that promise. Don't disappear one day. She couldn't bare it if he did.
He'd resent this and say it's not his fault except he'd never say it's not his fault (Also Done? c:)
He can't fucking die.
He smiles wide at her promise. He takes it in stores it up in his heart. Forever all to drive him with all them other gifts left. He reaches for the hand what all she signs with and squeezes it soft.
"IT'S A DEAL."