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thecapitol2013-08-03 09:30 am
wantwhatiwant) wrote in thecapitol2013-08-03 09:30 am
Entry tags:
So will someone come and carry me home [open]
Who| Ian and you!
What| Your typical "but aren't I supposed to be dead" post with extra drinking and Bad Life Decisions.
Where| District 6 suites, the common room then district 2 suites
When| Week 7, a few days after his death. When he wakes up
Notes| Just your typical after arena fare, though expect some mild to medium language. Oh and underage drinking.
[District 6 suites] Ian woke on a cold metal table and wondered if he was in hell. Not that he really believed there was a hell, but if there was that's where he'd be heading and as he had just been killed by a fucking teenage mutant ninja turtle, it was an obvious assumption.
He was soon surrounded by people telling him to stay calm, and he could return to his rooms once they thought he was stable enough and he realised he wasn't in hell at all. He was alive.
Following a tongueless woman back to his room Ian wasn't sure which he would have preferred. His head was reeling, things were beginning to make sense. Blaine having been in three arena's the way things were set up.
He had definitely died. He hadn't been sure with the poison, plenty of stuff could feel like death. But that turtle... He wouldn't have survived that. Not even barely. He had died, and now he was back and that should be a good thing.
Except it meant he had to do that again, the arena, the loneliness, the finding people to see them die, the being killed. Once the Avox had left him he hit the showers, finding the hottest setting he could deal with and standing there for a long time.
He didn't feel, physically, like he had been in a desert for six... maybe seven weeks. He didn't feel like he had starved, like he had been burned by the sun and not enough clothing. Like he had almost frozen to death.
In fact, he felt the side of his mouth and his eye. They were still a little tender, no bruising visible anymore, just ghosts of pain that had faded completely weeks ago. Back now.
He couldn't stay in the shower forever, he looked round his room for clothes. He had more than he had ever owned before, and most of them were ridiculous. He pulled on some trousers, a turtle neck jumper. He's be a little too warm but six weeks of practically being naked bar a loin cloth and later a robe had taken it's toll.
Once dressed he walked out into the lounge, hovering at the doorway in case there was anyone there.
[Common room] He eventually left the suite, and made his way downstairs. All the TV's were on and Ian winced as he saw some tribute he didn't know get snapped up by something. It seemed to be invisible.
Nothing shocked him anymore. He went to the bar and ordered a drink, which soon turned into six as he tried to block out what had just happened.
Part of him noted that he wasn't dealing with this very well. He had joined the army, knew that was going to be tough. Expected to have to see people die. But somehow this was different, he hadn't chosen this and half the people in the arena were kids.
He had never signed up to kill kids. He downed another drink to block out Lip's voice, probably calling him a hypocrite or something. He missed him. Missed them all, and he had left without telling them. He'd planned to ring, of course he had, but now he had no chance. He hadn't said goodbye, just vanished, and they didn't need anyone else just vanishing on them.
Shit he was as bad as Monica. That thought required another few drinks to squash.
[District 2 suites] Ian could barely walk, and though it made him feel queasy he was glad there was an elevator. Because he couldn't even contemplate stairs. Mickey lived on two right? He stumbled out and found the door, knocking on it, not seeming to realise people probably needed rest and quiet and not a drunk kid banging at their door. "Mickey?" He shouted, "You there?"
What| Your typical "but aren't I supposed to be dead" post with extra drinking and Bad Life Decisions.
Where| District 6 suites, the common room then district 2 suites
When| Week 7, a few days after his death. When he wakes up
Notes| Just your typical after arena fare, though expect some mild to medium language. Oh and underage drinking.
[District 6 suites] Ian woke on a cold metal table and wondered if he was in hell. Not that he really believed there was a hell, but if there was that's where he'd be heading and as he had just been killed by a fucking teenage mutant ninja turtle, it was an obvious assumption.
He was soon surrounded by people telling him to stay calm, and he could return to his rooms once they thought he was stable enough and he realised he wasn't in hell at all. He was alive.
Following a tongueless woman back to his room Ian wasn't sure which he would have preferred. His head was reeling, things were beginning to make sense. Blaine having been in three arena's the way things were set up.
He had definitely died. He hadn't been sure with the poison, plenty of stuff could feel like death. But that turtle... He wouldn't have survived that. Not even barely. He had died, and now he was back and that should be a good thing.
Except it meant he had to do that again, the arena, the loneliness, the finding people to see them die, the being killed. Once the Avox had left him he hit the showers, finding the hottest setting he could deal with and standing there for a long time.
He didn't feel, physically, like he had been in a desert for six... maybe seven weeks. He didn't feel like he had starved, like he had been burned by the sun and not enough clothing. Like he had almost frozen to death.
In fact, he felt the side of his mouth and his eye. They were still a little tender, no bruising visible anymore, just ghosts of pain that had faded completely weeks ago. Back now.
He couldn't stay in the shower forever, he looked round his room for clothes. He had more than he had ever owned before, and most of them were ridiculous. He pulled on some trousers, a turtle neck jumper. He's be a little too warm but six weeks of practically being naked bar a loin cloth and later a robe had taken it's toll.
Once dressed he walked out into the lounge, hovering at the doorway in case there was anyone there.
[Common room] He eventually left the suite, and made his way downstairs. All the TV's were on and Ian winced as he saw some tribute he didn't know get snapped up by something. It seemed to be invisible.
Nothing shocked him anymore. He went to the bar and ordered a drink, which soon turned into six as he tried to block out what had just happened.
Part of him noted that he wasn't dealing with this very well. He had joined the army, knew that was going to be tough. Expected to have to see people die. But somehow this was different, he hadn't chosen this and half the people in the arena were kids.
He had never signed up to kill kids. He downed another drink to block out Lip's voice, probably calling him a hypocrite or something. He missed him. Missed them all, and he had left without telling them. He'd planned to ring, of course he had, but now he had no chance. He hadn't said goodbye, just vanished, and they didn't need anyone else just vanishing on them.
Shit he was as bad as Monica. That thought required another few drinks to squash.
[District 2 suites] Ian could barely walk, and though it made him feel queasy he was glad there was an elevator. Because he couldn't even contemplate stairs. Mickey lived on two right? He stumbled out and found the door, knocking on it, not seeming to realise people probably needed rest and quiet and not a drunk kid banging at their door. "Mickey?" He shouted, "You there?"
no subject
He crossed his arms. "Are you drunk?"
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"Which room is his?"
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"I don't know. I don't go around running to everyone's room."
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