Wyatt Earp (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
the_marshal) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2013-05-09 09:52 am
the_marshal) wrote in thecapitol2013-05-09 09:52 am
Entry tags:
I can't seem to find my way home...
WHO| Wyatt and Aunamee, couple of NPCs
WHAT| Wyatt has had quite enough, thank you.
WHERE| District 10, 5, and eventually the Commons.
WHEN| Post arena finale.
WARNINGS/NOTES| This is the final straw that leads to Wyatt's full meltdown. He's gonna be a sad, drinky puppy for a while. Mentions of depression here and death, and he'll be trying to re-arraign Aunamee's face for him. This is happening in a public place, so feel free to use this as conversation fodder for your pups. Even if they weren't in the audience, they'll probably hear about it.
The lights had dimmed and he had floated, drifting on blackened waves of pain to the thready beating on his own heart. He had heard it give out, his body surrendering at last and there, in his last moment of consciousness, he had hoped again.
Maybe this would be it. Maybe this time he would sink and never again rise. Maybe Max’s faith had been justified and soon he would once again know the softness of Dora’s arms.
For just an instant he thought he felt her, could swear he saw her smile….
But then his eyes opened and he awoke once more. Once again in his room in the District 10 suites, the room just as quiet and still as the last time. As the time before that. And before that….
He couldn’t say how long he sat there, staring down at the carpet between his feet from inbetween the fingers cradling his head. He heard movement beyond the walls, others coming and going. Muted talk, not quite loud enough to make out the words. Life. Carrying on. Finding the way in spite of everything.
He took a breath, held it until his heart was pounding like war drums in his ears, and then slowly let it out, smoothing his hands over his hair and pushing up onto his feet.
He had things he needed to do.
People he needed to see.
~.~
He should have gone to Howard first, but he didn’t have the words yet. Didn’t know how he could ever possibly make right what had happened, that promise he’d broken.
So he took the elevator down to Five. Neeshka, with all her spirit and sass (the first that he had lost this arena), would undoubtedly be able to set him right. To make him smile. To make him forget, even for just a moment.
He could almost hear her laugh, could feel the stern poking she was bound to give him….
But the escort could only frown at him, sighing heavily, voice like syrup as he learned the awful truth and the floor seemed to fall out from underneath him in time to the great wrenching in his chest.
Gone.
~.~
He couldn’t recall pushing any of the buttons. Wasn’t quite sure how he’d gotten back on the elevator, how he’d even managed to get out of the District 5 suites.
One minute the world was spinning, the escort’s words echoing in his head, unable to be drowned out by the cry of denial he could hear, but couldn’t voice. The next… the doors were gliding open and the commons were stretching out before him.
He staggered out of the car and stood there, blinking in confusion.
Lost.
WHAT| Wyatt has had quite enough, thank you.
WHERE| District 10, 5, and eventually the Commons.
WHEN| Post arena finale.
WARNINGS/NOTES| This is the final straw that leads to Wyatt's full meltdown. He's gonna be a sad, drinky puppy for a while. Mentions of depression here and death, and he'll be trying to re-arraign Aunamee's face for him. This is happening in a public place, so feel free to use this as conversation fodder for your pups. Even if they weren't in the audience, they'll probably hear about it.
The lights had dimmed and he had floated, drifting on blackened waves of pain to the thready beating on his own heart. He had heard it give out, his body surrendering at last and there, in his last moment of consciousness, he had hoped again.
Maybe this would be it. Maybe this time he would sink and never again rise. Maybe Max’s faith had been justified and soon he would once again know the softness of Dora’s arms.
For just an instant he thought he felt her, could swear he saw her smile….
But then his eyes opened and he awoke once more. Once again in his room in the District 10 suites, the room just as quiet and still as the last time. As the time before that. And before that….
He couldn’t say how long he sat there, staring down at the carpet between his feet from inbetween the fingers cradling his head. He heard movement beyond the walls, others coming and going. Muted talk, not quite loud enough to make out the words. Life. Carrying on. Finding the way in spite of everything.
He took a breath, held it until his heart was pounding like war drums in his ears, and then slowly let it out, smoothing his hands over his hair and pushing up onto his feet.
He had things he needed to do.
People he needed to see.
He should have gone to Howard first, but he didn’t have the words yet. Didn’t know how he could ever possibly make right what had happened, that promise he’d broken.
So he took the elevator down to Five. Neeshka, with all her spirit and sass (the first that he had lost this arena), would undoubtedly be able to set him right. To make him smile. To make him forget, even for just a moment.
He could almost hear her laugh, could feel the stern poking she was bound to give him….
But the escort could only frown at him, sighing heavily, voice like syrup as he learned the awful truth and the floor seemed to fall out from underneath him in time to the great wrenching in his chest.
Gone.
He couldn’t recall pushing any of the buttons. Wasn’t quite sure how he’d gotten back on the elevator, how he’d even managed to get out of the District 5 suites.
One minute the world was spinning, the escort’s words echoing in his head, unable to be drowned out by the cry of denial he could hear, but couldn’t voice. The next… the doors were gliding open and the commons were stretching out before him.
He staggered out of the car and stood there, blinking in confusion.
Lost.
no subject
Him.
Howard's tormentor. His torturer.
He didn't respond, just stared, his heart pounding in his ears.
This murderer of children. Standing there. Smiling at him.
no subject
He approached with slow, smooth steps.
"What's your secret?"
no subject
His hands twitched. Clenched.
"Iffen I had one, do ya really think I'd share it with some mangy son of a bitch like you?"
This grinning bastard that was everything the Capitol wanted. A murderer without conscience. This was the kind of person they'd keep, that they'd bring back over folks like Neeshka.
Like Howard. Like Max.
no subject
(The man's anger would have felt good, once. It would have felt like a cloth wrapped around his arms and neck. It would have tickled the back of his tongue.)
"I hate that word," he said, and despite himself, bitterness welled in his stomach and escaped into his voice. "Mangy. Even the consonants are clumsy. It's cruel of you, to spew such venom after a compliment."
no subject
The promise of venom.
His fingers curled back into his palms, his thumbs tucking down against his knuckles.
"I'd say that's yer problem right there. You and I have very different thoughts on what that word means." His voice was a rough as stones. Just as hard. As unyielding.
no subject
There was no disguising the command, even buried in his sickly sweet syllables. The order wrapped in a threat.
Come get me.
no subject
There, in the moment is only the realization that Aunamee was close, far too close for comfort. The menace behind the sugary words.
The quiet voice, whispering in his ears.
It ain't never going to end. The men like this will live on long after yer gone. After they've taken Howard and Max and everyone and everythin' else that matters.
Aunamee's teeth flashed and everything turned to red.
He didn't realize he'd swung until his knuckle was splitting on Aunamee's teeth.