Nick (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fuckitall) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2015-01-16 09:16 pm
fuckitall) wrote in thecapitol2015-01-16 09:16 pm
Entry tags:
I've been walkin' the streets at night
Who| Nick, Grantaire, Nill, castmates and anyone else!
What| Nick's still pretty bitter about the arena. There are lots of ways to cope!
Where| Training Center, rooftop, bar, here and there
When| Sometime after Arena 12, day/evening varies
Warnings| Mentions of violence that occurred in the arena
Training Center, castmates and anyone else
He never cared about going to the gym much back when his world was still normal. And when it became a living hell, running away from lurkers had been the best form of fear driven exercise.
Getting into shape isn't exactly the first thing on his mind as to why he's here though. Despite the talks and moments of catching up with those he could after the arena, his emotions still feel raw. He's still angry at himself for not being able to do more, still angry that he's brought back only to see people suffer fates they don't deserve.
And they all have to do it again and again. There will probably never be a point in his life now where he can stop and think life ain't so bad. Life ain't fair, he gets it. If only everything in the god damn universe would quit reminding him so much in the worse ways possible.
He only just realizes how white his knuckles are and unclenches his fist, making his way towards the training dummies with a steel baton in his other hand. He can hone his skills with ranged weapons later. Right now, he just needs to let out all this pent up frustration and disappointment in himself in the healthiest way he can think of: beating the ever living shit out of this dummy.
"Fuck you," he huffs after a hard swing before following up with one after each uttered word. "Fuckin'. Piece. Of. Shit."
Useless.
Luke
Lying in a soft bed has been a comfort Nick learns to never take for granted, but lately he hasn't been able to pull the blanket over himself without imagining lurkers or aliens popping out of nowhere in front of him the second he pulls the covers off. Needless to say, sleep isn't going to come to him easily any time soon. He's still stuck in this nightmare after all.
He hasn't seen Luke since the end of the arena. He doesn't know what to say. Maybe Luke's feeling something similar along the likes, since he hasn't heard from him either. Knowing Luke, he's probably keeping to himself just as Nick is doing right now. But he's been feeling this distance between them for a while. This distance that only closes in moments where Luke isn't acting like a leader whether the circumstances permit him or not.
One thing he does know is that Luke can't shoulder all this burden himself. Is Luke worried that Nick would think less of him if he tells him that? Does Luke think he blames him for what happened?
He slowly sits up from the bed, running one hand down his face while fumbling with the communicator with the other. If Luke's blaming himself for any of this, Nick needs to let him know that it isn't his fault. He sends Luke a ping, feeling the anxiety creeping along his throat.
"...Luke?"
The park, open
Spending hours beating the shit out of things at the Training Center certainly helps, but it can only do so much for the moment and not much else when the moment's over. And for some reason, he doesn't feel the slightest tired. Even if he was, he can't bring himself to sleep for no more than an hour.
For now he'll make do with his guitar. It calms him down, keeping him grounded. Even if he played angrily, which he has done more than a few occasions, he can do it without the shame if it's through music.
He spends a little time wandering around for a while before finally finding a bench that faces away from most of the foot traffic. He plucks the strings and tunes the guitar accordingly. It takes a couple of random strums before he lets his fingers finally decide on a song. He doesn't sing the lyrics despite knowing them. Instead, he whistles an accompaniment to the tune. Eventually the whistling dies down and he just lets his fingers glide along, for once not caring about screwing up a note or missing it entirely. He's too busy staring ahead at the trees ahead of him, reminiscent of days at the park back home or exploring the woods.
Grantaire
The bartender working practically knows Nick's face by now. At least, from what he can tell anyway from the look he gets and the following head shake. As usual, Nick responds to that with his order along with a flippant eye roll. He takes his seat at a corner stool, his preferred place to sit mostly so he could lean against the wall or some sense of bullshit security he can't explainwhile sober. Drinking with Beth earlier was nice, but tonight is the night where he intends to go all out.
He's not even halfway done with his glass of whiskey, but he's already ordered another.
Nightmares aren't coming to him tonight.
Nill
Nick had only seen Nill in the arena as a portrait painted by the stars. Before that, they only had what Nick recalls as one of the first decent conversations he had since his arrival here. They've only spoken that one time but in the end he decided that Nill's good in his book. It's not often he feels safe enough to talk without feeling like he's being judged for it. He hasn't forgotten that and deeply regrets not trying harder to seek her out in the arena.
The guilt just keeps growing the more he thinks about it. Even if he does find her on the rooftop, he's not even sure if she wants to see anyone. He'd understand if she doesn't, but he wants to let her know that her patience and willingness to listen isn't going to be overlooked.
These two packs of cigarettes he bought might not cut it, he thinks.
What| Nick's still pretty bitter about the arena. There are lots of ways to cope!
Where| Training Center, rooftop, bar, here and there
When| Sometime after Arena 12, day/evening varies
Warnings| Mentions of violence that occurred in the arena
Training Center, castmates and anyone else
He never cared about going to the gym much back when his world was still normal. And when it became a living hell, running away from lurkers had been the best form of fear driven exercise.
Getting into shape isn't exactly the first thing on his mind as to why he's here though. Despite the talks and moments of catching up with those he could after the arena, his emotions still feel raw. He's still angry at himself for not being able to do more, still angry that he's brought back only to see people suffer fates they don't deserve.
And they all have to do it again and again. There will probably never be a point in his life now where he can stop and think life ain't so bad. Life ain't fair, he gets it. If only everything in the god damn universe would quit reminding him so much in the worse ways possible.
He only just realizes how white his knuckles are and unclenches his fist, making his way towards the training dummies with a steel baton in his other hand. He can hone his skills with ranged weapons later. Right now, he just needs to let out all this pent up frustration and disappointment in himself in the healthiest way he can think of: beating the ever living shit out of this dummy.
"Fuck you," he huffs after a hard swing before following up with one after each uttered word. "Fuckin'. Piece. Of. Shit."
Useless.
Luke
Lying in a soft bed has been a comfort Nick learns to never take for granted, but lately he hasn't been able to pull the blanket over himself without imagining lurkers or aliens popping out of nowhere in front of him the second he pulls the covers off. Needless to say, sleep isn't going to come to him easily any time soon. He's still stuck in this nightmare after all.
He hasn't seen Luke since the end of the arena. He doesn't know what to say. Maybe Luke's feeling something similar along the likes, since he hasn't heard from him either. Knowing Luke, he's probably keeping to himself just as Nick is doing right now. But he's been feeling this distance between them for a while. This distance that only closes in moments where Luke isn't acting like a leader whether the circumstances permit him or not.
One thing he does know is that Luke can't shoulder all this burden himself. Is Luke worried that Nick would think less of him if he tells him that? Does Luke think he blames him for what happened?
He slowly sits up from the bed, running one hand down his face while fumbling with the communicator with the other. If Luke's blaming himself for any of this, Nick needs to let him know that it isn't his fault. He sends Luke a ping, feeling the anxiety creeping along his throat.
"...Luke?"
The park, open
Spending hours beating the shit out of things at the Training Center certainly helps, but it can only do so much for the moment and not much else when the moment's over. And for some reason, he doesn't feel the slightest tired. Even if he was, he can't bring himself to sleep for no more than an hour.
For now he'll make do with his guitar. It calms him down, keeping him grounded. Even if he played angrily, which he has done more than a few occasions, he can do it without the shame if it's through music.
He spends a little time wandering around for a while before finally finding a bench that faces away from most of the foot traffic. He plucks the strings and tunes the guitar accordingly. It takes a couple of random strums before he lets his fingers finally decide on a song. He doesn't sing the lyrics despite knowing them. Instead, he whistles an accompaniment to the tune. Eventually the whistling dies down and he just lets his fingers glide along, for once not caring about screwing up a note or missing it entirely. He's too busy staring ahead at the trees ahead of him, reminiscent of days at the park back home or exploring the woods.
Grantaire
The bartender working practically knows Nick's face by now. At least, from what he can tell anyway from the look he gets and the following head shake. As usual, Nick responds to that with his order along with a flippant eye roll. He takes his seat at a corner stool, his preferred place to sit mostly so he could lean against the wall or some sense of bullshit security he can't explain
He's not even halfway done with his glass of whiskey, but he's already ordered another.
Nightmares aren't coming to him tonight.
Nill
Nick had only seen Nill in the arena as a portrait painted by the stars. Before that, they only had what Nick recalls as one of the first decent conversations he had since his arrival here. They've only spoken that one time but in the end he decided that Nill's good in his book. It's not often he feels safe enough to talk without feeling like he's being judged for it. He hasn't forgotten that and deeply regrets not trying harder to seek her out in the arena.
The guilt just keeps growing the more he thinks about it. Even if he does find her on the rooftop, he's not even sure if she wants to see anyone. He'd understand if she doesn't, but he wants to let her know that her patience and willingness to listen isn't going to be overlooked.
These two packs of cigarettes he bought might not cut it, he thinks.
no subject
"Me neither. "I'm Katniss. I'm a mentor from District 12." She extends a hand, twisting to face him on the bench with a warm smile.