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)
thecapitol2013-08-19 06:53 am
the_marshal) wrote in thecapitol2013-08-19 06:53 am
Entry tags:
Someday I will ask you if I was a disapointment.
WHO| Wyatt and Open
WHAT| Enjoying a frosty, adult beverage (or ten)
WHERE| The Speakeasy
WHEN| A few days prior to Maximus' crowning
Notes/Warnings|No warnings at this time, will add any as they become appropriate. Epic levels of bromance. If anyone's been hoping to chat with Wyatt, this will probably be your last open chance prior to the new arena.
Max's crowning was all Wyatt's stylists could talk about, the whole District Ten team - including his escort - in a tizzy and growing ever more frazzled as it approached. It was at once both amusing, and disconcerting.
He didn't hold any particular ill will against the lot of them anymore - he'd come to accept them as more a nuisance than anything sinister - but he didn't much care for the way they eyed him speculatively when they passed in the halls or common room, whispering to each other and making strange gestures with their hands.
And, of course, whatever they were planning aside, the crowning also meant that the new arena wasn't far off.
He was happy to celebrate Max's victory for what it was, and for what it meant, but he couldn't stop that niggling concern from rooting around in the back of his mind, especially as he was spending so more time alone this round. Just him and his own thoughts, worrying over the possibilities like a hound at a bone.
He hadn't spoken to Howard, unsure there were even words enough to apologize - to earn forgiveness - for what he'd done in the arena, and he didn't want to speak to R. He could feel the lingering heat of that still burning bridge. Max was busy, of course. Everyone and their second-cousin wanting a few minutes with the new victor.
Even numbing his troubles at The Speakeasy was an undertaking anymore, the pub, like so many other places, turned off by the cuff shackled around his wrist. They hadn't thrown him out yet, but it was clear the attention he brought them was now of the unwanted variety and he'd cut his visits down accordingly.
He wasn't here to cause trouble.
He just sat his table toward the back, taking the insults that did come his way silently. Drinking alone as he toyed with the necklace he'd worn to the auction. He'd cut the cord and was now in the process of adding a few, more unusual charms, to either side of the little golden eagle.
WHAT| Enjoying a frosty, adult beverage (or ten)
WHERE| The Speakeasy
WHEN| A few days prior to Maximus' crowning
Notes/Warnings|
Max's crowning was all Wyatt's stylists could talk about, the whole District Ten team - including his escort - in a tizzy and growing ever more frazzled as it approached. It was at once both amusing, and disconcerting.
He didn't hold any particular ill will against the lot of them anymore - he'd come to accept them as more a nuisance than anything sinister - but he didn't much care for the way they eyed him speculatively when they passed in the halls or common room, whispering to each other and making strange gestures with their hands.
And, of course, whatever they were planning aside, the crowning also meant that the new arena wasn't far off.
He was happy to celebrate Max's victory for what it was, and for what it meant, but he couldn't stop that niggling concern from rooting around in the back of his mind, especially as he was spending so more time alone this round. Just him and his own thoughts, worrying over the possibilities like a hound at a bone.
He hadn't spoken to Howard, unsure there were even words enough to apologize - to earn forgiveness - for what he'd done in the arena, and he didn't want to speak to R. He could feel the lingering heat of that still burning bridge. Max was busy, of course. Everyone and their second-cousin wanting a few minutes with the new victor.
Even numbing his troubles at The Speakeasy was an undertaking anymore, the pub, like so many other places, turned off by the cuff shackled around his wrist. They hadn't thrown him out yet, but it was clear the attention he brought them was now of the unwanted variety and he'd cut his visits down accordingly.
He wasn't here to cause trouble.
He just sat his table toward the back, taking the insults that did come his way silently. Drinking alone as he toyed with the necklace he'd worn to the auction. He'd cut the cord and was now in the process of adding a few, more unusual charms, to either side of the little golden eagle.
no subject
Then, of course, he just collapsed to the grass completely.
no subject
He swept off his hat, propping it against his hip on his open side, and the late dew washing against the back of his bare neck, through his hair, cool fingers playing down the length of his spine. Gooseflesh crawled across his skin, a tingling wave, but it wasn't particularly unpleasant.
Better than sand, at any rate.
He pillowed his head on one of his arms, and exhaled a long, easy sigh.
no subject
He didn't say anything, just let out a long breath to match Wyatt's and tried to relax.
He could almost pretend he wasn't in the capitol, if the moon didn't keep glancing off the gold shimmer in his clothes.
"... What do you think the punishment would be for starting a fire?"
no subject
Himself?
(His wrist turned, heavy cuff twisting around, biting into the heel of his hand.)
He glanced at Max out of the corner of his eye, mouth twitching wryly.
"I'd tell 'em it was all yer idea."
no subject
He let the silence drag on for a while, until he couldn't even be sure if Wyatt was still awake - happy enough to have been here this long without a peace keeper coming to politely 'escort' him back to his quarters. A small measure of freedom.
So when he spoke, eventually, it was mostly to himself.
"... I wonder if this world even shares an Elysium with mine."
no subject
When the man spoke again, voice a rough whisper, faint over the beating of his own heart, he shifted, inhaling slowly. He silently chewed over the question for a moment.
"...Yer welcome to share mine," he offered, a soft, low murmur. "Wouldn't be the same, I know,... but I'd be happy to have ya."
no subject
He couldn't quite shake the heavy, almost painful grip on his heart. The grief, surely. Mostly. But something else. Almost a relief.
He'd done much in his life alone. The fact that he wouldn't for the rest of it, whatever little was left....
He cleared his throat, and nodded slightly. "... Long as there's some good, rich earth," He said, voice fulls of stones.
no subject
Somewhere in the distance a siren wailed, a mournful sound that would work it's way into his dreams. The kia-yia of a coyote as the horizon stretched out before him, the moon on his shoulders. A warm fire. A deck of cards. Max.
"Wouldn't dream of anythin' less."
no subject
Sleep came upon him almost instantly, and his dreams were not as dark as they once were.