Alex Shepherd | SEC » 008 » 040 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
unsoldiered) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ataraxionlogs2012-11-10 12:03 am
unsoldiered) wrote in ataraxionlogs2012-11-10 12:03 am
put me in the hospital for nerves and then they had to commit me
CHARACTERS: Alex "talkin' to myself" Shepherd, his poor CR, and aaanyone else who runs into him.
LOCATION: Lots of places. Scattered through the following week.
WARNINGS: General 'craziness' brought about by mask issues. Not sure where the threads'll go, but it could get a little dark if it takes that turn toward Bad Memory Lane. Alex isn't gonna be violent in any unplanned circumstance, but he may see your character as someone else, or something to that effect.
SUMMARY: Alex put on his mask a while back. On the 9th he put on the mask again. He saw some pretty bad things. The 10th, and Alex is pretty sure what he feared might be coming true. It'll take a little fixing up to make this engine rumble right again.
NOTES: Prose or action fine. And of course like usual, A-OK with any character interaction at any point in this narrative.
(Nov. 10th)
He's lost track of time again. Not in the way you do aboard the ship, either. Sometimes he loses pieces and ends up somewhere with no memory of traveling. It's mostly when he wakes up from sleeping (if he even wakes up at all before he leaves). Ever since he'd put the mask on yet another time and saw vacant dead eyes of too many people (wheeler riddled with holes, holloway with a gushing chin, mom and dad, halved, his brother soaked in lake water), he'd hid that thing away in his room and struggles to keep away from it. It's weird, because he's had that sensation before, like the mask were pills given to him day after day to ease his freewill. The mask itself is simple: A very angular red shape that fits against and around the face like a overwhelming bird beak; he'd have to be a complete moron not to know what it was referring to.
At any rate, he decided not to touch the damned thing again. Hopefully. But even trying to keep the urge to wear it at bay wasn't helping the fact that its already done the damage. Today he snaps awake and finds himself lying across the steps in the pool, half hanging out with his hand on the ledge. It shakes him up enough that he paces out of there, toward the showers and blasts himself with ice-cold water with his clothes still on—minus the heavy jacket. At this point, just to make sure he's awake.
("Did I say you could touch my jacket?")
He leans on the wall and feels frozen there for a moment, water dripping off chin and nose. Eventually he just walks back to his room, cold and wet but at least entirely lucid. He hasn't entirely holed himself up; that'd just make certain convicts upset with him. His 'patrolling' takes the stage front and center, and whatever work he'd done in the gardens was halted altogether. He doesn't go back to say so, either.
(Nov. 12th)
He'd fallen asleep after a few long hours of scribbling on the walls. Originally, he'd wanted to snoop, see if he could see anything regarding Chase's vision. Nothin'. So he just scribbled up the walls more with useless little pictures. He draws until his wrist cramps a little (and people may or may not pass by; he might invite them to draw if they want).
He wakes up leaning on one of the walls further out in the ship. There's a moment where he looks around, bleary-eyed, and glances up to a burn mark on the wall that a certain little girl had left back then, when they drew together; yeah, where she'd drawn a thing with a pyramid-shaped head and then zapped it out of existence for his sake. He wasn't scared of it like he used to be.... Wonder where that place was, that Murphy drew all those words at, though. Alex remembers going back and scratching it all out for him... He wonders if Murphy really could get it. That feeling like you slip away for a second, lost in your own... burdens? Thoughts? Memories? Who knows at this point.
"Mr. Shepherd, you--
--need to take your--"
"--been prescribing-"
"Shut up." His hands draw in towards his ears, as if a piercing sound had reverberated through the halls. He winces at the sensation, all the while bitter with the implications of hearing what isn't really there. Not that he didn't already have plenty of implications that he wasn't doing as well this month. "Just... shut the fuck up."
Or at least stop talking so loud. Christ.
(Nov. 14th)
Wakes up at the pool again. He just sits with his legs in the water, thoughtfully staring down into the scarcely rippling waters. Alex was afraid to visit here sometimes. Had a... dislike of anything like it, honestly.
For some reason, he feels okay. Sometimes he forgets why he didn't like it in the first place. Other times, he remembers how much he swam around in Toluca Lake, with his brother.
Wonder where Josh could be now...?
LOCATION: Lots of places. Scattered through the following week.
WARNINGS: General 'craziness' brought about by mask issues. Not sure where the threads'll go, but it could get a little dark if it takes that turn toward Bad Memory Lane. Alex isn't gonna be violent in any unplanned circumstance, but he may see your character as someone else, or something to that effect.
SUMMARY: Alex put on his mask a while back. On the 9th he put on the mask again. He saw some pretty bad things. The 10th, and Alex is pretty sure what he feared might be coming true. It'll take a little fixing up to make this engine rumble right again.
NOTES: Prose or action fine. And of course like usual, A-OK with any character interaction at any point in this narrative.
(Nov. 10th)
He's lost track of time again. Not in the way you do aboard the ship, either. Sometimes he loses pieces and ends up somewhere with no memory of traveling. It's mostly when he wakes up from sleeping (if he even wakes up at all before he leaves). Ever since he'd put the mask on yet another time and saw vacant dead eyes of too many people (wheeler riddled with holes, holloway with a gushing chin, mom and dad, halved, his brother soaked in lake water), he'd hid that thing away in his room and struggles to keep away from it. It's weird, because he's had that sensation before, like the mask were pills given to him day after day to ease his freewill. The mask itself is simple: A very angular red shape that fits against and around the face like a overwhelming bird beak; he'd have to be a complete moron not to know what it was referring to.
At any rate, he decided not to touch the damned thing again. Hopefully. But even trying to keep the urge to wear it at bay wasn't helping the fact that its already done the damage. Today he snaps awake and finds himself lying across the steps in the pool, half hanging out with his hand on the ledge. It shakes him up enough that he paces out of there, toward the showers and blasts himself with ice-cold water with his clothes still on—minus the heavy jacket. At this point, just to make sure he's awake.
("Did I say you could touch my jacket?")
He leans on the wall and feels frozen there for a moment, water dripping off chin and nose. Eventually he just walks back to his room, cold and wet but at least entirely lucid. He hasn't entirely holed himself up; that'd just make certain convicts upset with him. His 'patrolling' takes the stage front and center, and whatever work he'd done in the gardens was halted altogether. He doesn't go back to say so, either.
(Nov. 12th)
He'd fallen asleep after a few long hours of scribbling on the walls. Originally, he'd wanted to snoop, see if he could see anything regarding Chase's vision. Nothin'. So he just scribbled up the walls more with useless little pictures. He draws until his wrist cramps a little (and people may or may not pass by; he might invite them to draw if they want).
He wakes up leaning on one of the walls further out in the ship. There's a moment where he looks around, bleary-eyed, and glances up to a burn mark on the wall that a certain little girl had left back then, when they drew together; yeah, where she'd drawn a thing with a pyramid-shaped head and then zapped it out of existence for his sake. He wasn't scared of it like he used to be.... Wonder where that place was, that Murphy drew all those words at, though. Alex remembers going back and scratching it all out for him... He wonders if Murphy really could get it. That feeling like you slip away for a second, lost in your own... burdens? Thoughts? Memories? Who knows at this point.
"Mr. Shepherd, you--
--need to take your--"
"--been prescribing-"
"Shut up." His hands draw in towards his ears, as if a piercing sound had reverberated through the halls. He winces at the sensation, all the while bitter with the implications of hearing what isn't really there. Not that he didn't already have plenty of implications that he wasn't doing as well this month. "Just... shut the fuck up."
Or at least stop talking so loud. Christ.
(Nov. 14th)
Wakes up at the pool again. He just sits with his legs in the water, thoughtfully staring down into the scarcely rippling waters. Alex was afraid to visit here sometimes. Had a... dislike of anything like it, honestly.
For some reason, he feels okay. Sometimes he forgets why he didn't like it in the first place. Other times, he remembers how much he swam around in Toluca Lake, with his brother.
Wonder where Josh could be now...?
no subject
Nothing should surprise him anymore -he'd been victim to so many unexpected sights and sounds- yet he can't help but be taken back by this sight. The man's face is covered by his hands and Henry can't see the person's face, but it's apparent the guy is in some sort of pain.
"Are you okay?" He speaks automatically, generally concerned, but also wary as he proceeds to approach in slow steps as the thoughts of this person turning into some sort of abomination and lunging are strong in his head.
no subject
If he were in any better state of mind, he'd just nod and say he's fine. Now is not one of those times.
"I didn't pretend you into existence, did I?"
no subject
"No," he pauses and casually glances Alex over, "I'm real."
A part of Henry wants to know what happened, but he also knows that his man is in need of care and should therefore take care of that prior to anything. Plus, the last time he learned anything after coming across wounded and/or dying people, the truth wasn't pleasant.
"Do you need any help?"
This is an obvious question because Alex does need help, it's incredibly apparent, but Henry is not known for jumping in to the rescue.
no subject
no subject
He could always use his phone and call for help, but the irony of the situation is that at any given moment, it might malfunction, so there's really only one option he has left. Despite that he never considered himself to be the hero type, or one to take charge, Henry extends a hand as any caring person would do. And if Alex were unable to walk on his own, Henry might be obliged to help then too.
He just hopes this situation doesn't end up repeating what he'd fought so hard to escape.
no subject
"... Thanks. Sorry."
Not sure what he's apologizing for just yet, but he'll figure it out. Eventually.
no subject
Or not.
Once he helps Alex to his feet, Henry asks another question, "are you okay to walk?"
no subject
no subject
"The hospital might have something," uh, where was the hospital again? These hallways were always so confusing.
Of course there was also the question of wether or not Alex would want to go there.
no subject
no subject
He notices the averted gaze, but ignores it, "your room?" because Henry did not want to leave Alex like this. One, the guilt, and two, it just wasn't right, "then, I can go get help."
no subject
no subject
And later came back as ghosts, but that was beside the point here.
This guy was hurt. He didn't know how bad, but when one is leaning against the wall, soaking, and head down, its apparent one was in distress. But-
He was used to this?
"It's happened to you before?"
no subject
Understatement. He's got slews of 'em.
"I'm used to it, though... I can deal with it. So--don't worry about it."
no subject
"At least- let me help you to your room," his voice is soft, yet determined.
While it's not much, it's the best Henry can offer without stranding him completely.