"RYUUZAKI" (L - Death Note) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ryuuzaki) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ataraxionlogs2014-04-17 07:33 am
ryuuzaki) wrote in ataraxionlogs2014-04-17 07:33 am
Entry tags:
Turned away from it all like a blind man [OPEN]
CHARACTERS: L, but call him Ryuuzaki. Also possibly you?
LOCATION: Comms, various gyms, possible kitchen or media library or Oxygen Gardens.
WARNINGS: Mild IC depression.
SUMMARY: A visibly eccentric young man is in an emotional rut. He attempts to occupy himself with work (potentially annoying or worrying his co-workers), considers finding a sparring partner for martial arts practice on the downlow, and behaves slightly badly in other common areas of the ship.
NOTES: If you need another starter, or something more specific for any of the options, give me a nudge. These can be set at any time in April.
This place has a bad effect on people, L thinks.
There's the obvious, surface way, the way not worth noting or describing except in the course of warning an unsuspecting new victim, the basic dangers, the anxiety about what might happen next. That tends to wear on the ones who last long enough, although there are a few who seem to be insouciant enough to shrug it off. They're careless, or they have the arrogance to believe that it won't apply to them.
Deeper consideration reveals other psychological pressures. When danger is constant, the tendency is to pick up an infantilized set of habits: don't stray from the path, don't become too ambitious. Do it, and you'll learn your lesson. You might not die -- many people hadn't, a few people had -- but as the situations on the Bridge and in Engineering had shown, you would be shown your place. "Isn't it better to do as I tell you?" Not enough carrots, too many sticks. People are resilient and break slowly, but he sees it all wearing on most of them, and is aware that he isn't immune to it.
What bothers him most is how helpless he feels, the way his scope has been diminished. He's always been angry about being trapped here, but it doesn't seethe anymore... it's a fact of daily life that he pays little attention to unless it rises enough that he has to work to repress it. He distracts himself with his work (mostly boring, but it occupies his time and places him well to take advantage of more interesting things that might come up), and with a series of small amusements. He knows that he's operating at an indescribably low volume of his actual capabilities, although he stretches his waking hours a little more than he really has to. He's still himself, but a lesser version, compressed and shrunken.
That's dangerous, because he can see it going three ways: a continuation of his current flattened feeling, or further diminishment until he doesn't want to do much of anything at all, or possibly, an ill-advised attempt to expand his boundaries, which would probably be met by Smiley (or the hypothetical unidentified third party) with a firm redefinition of them. The status quo is bearable -- just. The restlessness and the pull towards apathy and inaction, which tend to come and go, are not.
[COMMS]
In Comms, some days are better than others. They have a little more help now, but L still works 18-hour shifts when he has to.
The more extravagant his boredom, the more he fidgets, spinning in his chair or pushing himself around the area with one foot, like an oar, or stacking small objects and then knocking them over when he becomes tired of it or annoyed about something else, or making stray observations if someone is in the room with him. He assists new arrivals with their devices if they ask for the help.
On other days, he's just quiet, absorbed in his work, not particularly communicative, glum and tired and occupied. If the work isn't what's holding his attention, something from one of the libraries might be.
His coffee consumption is becoming prodigious again. It's not good coffee.
[VARIOUS GYMS]
L hasn't quite allowed himself to decondition, but the dwindling staff on his team has meant a lot less free time to try to fill than he'd had a few months ago. His tendency is to be sedentary -- he enjoys physical activity, but pursuing it takes willpower and a conscious decision -- and although he knows it's important to stay in shape as much as he can, here, he's still been letting it slip. Not much, but enough to fall out of the habit.
He's making a point of going to the ship's gyms more regularly again now, usually at odd hours, never the same gym two days in a row. He wants the place to himself.
There's a conflict there: he knows it would be better if he had a sparring partner, maybe more than one. He also knows that not everyone on the ship can be trusted, and that his appearance makes it easy to underestimate him as an opponent, which might be useful to him one day. That makes him reluctant to attempt to recruit someone too openly, and it also means that he keeps close to the occupied levels, but he practices in gyms on floors that have few or no inhabitants.
It's worked for him so far, but it can't last forever.
So here, at 3 or 4 or 5:46 AM, he loops through a series of stretches, then kicks and twists and rolls. Once, he falls, landing flat on his back without hurting himself, but not without swearing softly when he hits. His feet are bare. It's almost like a dance, but he doesn't have much rhythm.
[ELSEWHERE]
As he drinks coffee in a kitchen, or sits in a media library with his feet on the edge of the table, or paces through the Oxygen Garden in search of an apple or of real grass under his feet, he's sometimes surprised that his posture doesn't typically draw more comment from people who pass by.
On the other hand, if he sees something or someone that he thinks is interesting, he stares. Overtly.
LOCATION: Comms, various gyms, possible kitchen or media library or Oxygen Gardens.
WARNINGS: Mild IC depression.
SUMMARY: A visibly eccentric young man is in an emotional rut. He attempts to occupy himself with work (potentially annoying or worrying his co-workers), considers finding a sparring partner for martial arts practice on the downlow, and behaves slightly badly in other common areas of the ship.
NOTES: If you need another starter, or something more specific for any of the options, give me a nudge. These can be set at any time in April.
This place has a bad effect on people, L thinks.
There's the obvious, surface way, the way not worth noting or describing except in the course of warning an unsuspecting new victim, the basic dangers, the anxiety about what might happen next. That tends to wear on the ones who last long enough, although there are a few who seem to be insouciant enough to shrug it off. They're careless, or they have the arrogance to believe that it won't apply to them.
Deeper consideration reveals other psychological pressures. When danger is constant, the tendency is to pick up an infantilized set of habits: don't stray from the path, don't become too ambitious. Do it, and you'll learn your lesson. You might not die -- many people hadn't, a few people had -- but as the situations on the Bridge and in Engineering had shown, you would be shown your place. "Isn't it better to do as I tell you?" Not enough carrots, too many sticks. People are resilient and break slowly, but he sees it all wearing on most of them, and is aware that he isn't immune to it.
What bothers him most is how helpless he feels, the way his scope has been diminished. He's always been angry about being trapped here, but it doesn't seethe anymore... it's a fact of daily life that he pays little attention to unless it rises enough that he has to work to repress it. He distracts himself with his work (mostly boring, but it occupies his time and places him well to take advantage of more interesting things that might come up), and with a series of small amusements. He knows that he's operating at an indescribably low volume of his actual capabilities, although he stretches his waking hours a little more than he really has to. He's still himself, but a lesser version, compressed and shrunken.
That's dangerous, because he can see it going three ways: a continuation of his current flattened feeling, or further diminishment until he doesn't want to do much of anything at all, or possibly, an ill-advised attempt to expand his boundaries, which would probably be met by Smiley (or the hypothetical unidentified third party) with a firm redefinition of them. The status quo is bearable -- just. The restlessness and the pull towards apathy and inaction, which tend to come and go, are not.
[COMMS]
In Comms, some days are better than others. They have a little more help now, but L still works 18-hour shifts when he has to.
The more extravagant his boredom, the more he fidgets, spinning in his chair or pushing himself around the area with one foot, like an oar, or stacking small objects and then knocking them over when he becomes tired of it or annoyed about something else, or making stray observations if someone is in the room with him. He assists new arrivals with their devices if they ask for the help.
On other days, he's just quiet, absorbed in his work, not particularly communicative, glum and tired and occupied. If the work isn't what's holding his attention, something from one of the libraries might be.
His coffee consumption is becoming prodigious again. It's not good coffee.
[VARIOUS GYMS]
L hasn't quite allowed himself to decondition, but the dwindling staff on his team has meant a lot less free time to try to fill than he'd had a few months ago. His tendency is to be sedentary -- he enjoys physical activity, but pursuing it takes willpower and a conscious decision -- and although he knows it's important to stay in shape as much as he can, here, he's still been letting it slip. Not much, but enough to fall out of the habit.
He's making a point of going to the ship's gyms more regularly again now, usually at odd hours, never the same gym two days in a row. He wants the place to himself.
There's a conflict there: he knows it would be better if he had a sparring partner, maybe more than one. He also knows that not everyone on the ship can be trusted, and that his appearance makes it easy to underestimate him as an opponent, which might be useful to him one day. That makes him reluctant to attempt to recruit someone too openly, and it also means that he keeps close to the occupied levels, but he practices in gyms on floors that have few or no inhabitants.
It's worked for him so far, but it can't last forever.
So here, at 3 or 4 or 5:46 AM, he loops through a series of stretches, then kicks and twists and rolls. Once, he falls, landing flat on his back without hurting himself, but not without swearing softly when he hits. His feet are bare. It's almost like a dance, but he doesn't have much rhythm.
[ELSEWHERE]
As he drinks coffee in a kitchen, or sits in a media library with his feet on the edge of the table, or paces through the Oxygen Garden in search of an apple or of real grass under his feet, he's sometimes surprised that his posture doesn't typically draw more comment from people who pass by.
On the other hand, if he sees something or someone that he thinks is interesting, he stares. Overtly.
Comms
Otherwise, well, Padme claimed his speeches were persuasive. But that might not be enough here.
no subject
L is languid in his rolling, spinning chair, which he has stopped, for the moment.
"Can we? If there's anyone viable who seems remotely trustworthy, we could use a few of them more than Security needs them." His tone indicates that he doesn't mean this completely seriously. "Agriculture could, too."