wιcнιтa, ĸanѕaѕ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cons) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ataraxionlogs2012-08-21 05:03 am
cons) wrote in ataraxionlogs2012-08-21 05:03 am
i remember when we were gambling to win ( closed )
CHARACTERS: Wichita & Team Jailbait ( party crashing rights to moriarty/sebastian/neal/holmes/blake )
LOCATION: Justin and Brian's space bar.
WARNINGS: ..underage drinking, maybe. oops. talk of character death and the other messed up, hellish things that happen on the ship.
SUMMARY: Wichita's dealing with things the best way she knows how - drinking, and making people drink with her.
NOTES: tag in at your own pace. we can do multiple threads, threadjack, whatever. have at it. :D
[ it's been a week. just about. a whole week since Sherlock Holmes was found dead in a pool and Wichita still feels like absolute shit about it. what's that about? it's one thing, you know, when somebody's on the ship one minute then gone just a few months later, disappearing or never coming back after a jump, but. but Sherlock- it was permanent, wasn't it? and very real. and when someone gets lost on the ship, there's always that chance they'll come back. they'll be exhausted and confused, but they come back. Sherlock wouldn't, not the same as before at least, and it was weighing her down a lot more than she thought it would. then again, she felt this way when they found the painter dead too, and she hardly knew him, hardly.
the fact that she cares is weird. really weird, considering she was literally surrounded by death back in her home world, before she got here, and it was easy to let it all slide over her like driving past roadkill on the road to Pacific Playland.
things change though, right? that's the phrase? things change, people change. she didn't like to think about the changes she's been through since she got on this freaking spaceship, because they all make her feel a lot weaker than she was at home. weaker, vulnerable. someone's dead and she's sad about it, still. a week later.
so she's doing what she always does, albiet a few days too late - she's going to get drunk. properly trashed, because it's easier than dealing with being sad over someone being dead. and maybe that's unhealthy, and stupid, and dangerous when any step she takes on this damn boat could be her last, but she doesn't care. like, at all. which is kind of just as scary as being sad over somebody being dead. so she'll put on a brave face. brave, or sarcastic, uncaring. whatever. she'll put on a face and pretend she's getting drunk just to throw a wrench in the monotony of living here, convince people to join her because that makes it easier to distract herself.
ugh, whatever. where'd that bottle go? and where are her friends.
( f r i e n d s. that's a weird one to think out-loud. let's maybe never use that word again. ) ]
LOCATION: Justin and Brian's space bar.
WARNINGS: ..underage drinking, maybe. oops. talk of character death and the other messed up, hellish things that happen on the ship.
SUMMARY: Wichita's dealing with things the best way she knows how - drinking, and making people drink with her.
NOTES: tag in at your own pace. we can do multiple threads, threadjack, whatever. have at it. :D
[ it's been a week. just about. a whole week since Sherlock Holmes was found dead in a pool and Wichita still feels like absolute shit about it. what's that about? it's one thing, you know, when somebody's on the ship one minute then gone just a few months later, disappearing or never coming back after a jump, but. but Sherlock- it was permanent, wasn't it? and very real. and when someone gets lost on the ship, there's always that chance they'll come back. they'll be exhausted and confused, but they come back. Sherlock wouldn't, not the same as before at least, and it was weighing her down a lot more than she thought it would. then again, she felt this way when they found the painter dead too, and she hardly knew him, hardly.
the fact that she cares is weird. really weird, considering she was literally surrounded by death back in her home world, before she got here, and it was easy to let it all slide over her like driving past roadkill on the road to Pacific Playland.
things change though, right? that's the phrase? things change, people change. she didn't like to think about the changes she's been through since she got on this freaking spaceship, because they all make her feel a lot weaker than she was at home. weaker, vulnerable. someone's dead and she's sad about it, still. a week later.
so she's doing what she always does, albiet a few days too late - she's going to get drunk. properly trashed, because it's easier than dealing with being sad over someone being dead. and maybe that's unhealthy, and stupid, and dangerous when any step she takes on this damn boat could be her last, but she doesn't care. like, at all. which is kind of just as scary as being sad over somebody being dead. so she'll put on a brave face. brave, or sarcastic, uncaring. whatever. she'll put on a face and pretend she's getting drunk just to throw a wrench in the monotony of living here, convince people to join her because that makes it easier to distract herself.
ugh, whatever. where'd that bottle go? and where are her friends.
( f r i e n d s. that's a weird one to think out-loud. let's maybe never use that word again. ) ]
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We moved around a lot when I was a kid. Me and my mom.
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I never thought of it that way.
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[His smile is sweet and genuine. It becomes a little pained though as he sighs, looking around the bar.]
It's sad, being here without Justin. I'm sure he'd be really happy seeing us all hanging out and drinking. [A little laugh.]
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Here.
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Oh! Thank you. What's this? [He picks it up and sniffs it. It smells fruity and kind of good.] Um-- There isn't too much alcohol in this, is there?
[He really doesn't want to get drunk, but between Brendan and Wichita he'll probably end up wasted without even trying.]
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[Look he's no pro]
It shouldn't be too strong.
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It's good. You've got a talent for mixing impromptu girly drinks. [A teasing laugh.]
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Another reason to keep me around.
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Anyway, if you like it and you want one I can make you another.
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[He drinks a bit more. Honestly, it tastes like juice or something--and if he's getting tipsy, he barely notices. After a short time he's finished nearly all of it, and hiccups a little.]
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[His cheeks look quite pink.]
I don't feel sick or anything...