stresstokens (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
stresstokens) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
etrayalogs2024-11-02 05:18 pm
stresstokens) wrote in etrayalogs2024-11-02 05:18 pm
[ OPEN ] recuperation & reconciliation
WHO: riz gukgak & YOU!!
WHEN: post-fear event onwards!
WHERE: throughout etraya (shops & diners, hospital, training grounds)
WHAT: in the wake of the fear event, riz gets to work on getting stronger, smarter, and trying to be a better friend (outcome: undecided). I'm down for anything! if you'd like something different, feel free to take up the wildcard or ping me on discord/plurk!
NOTES\WARNINGS: discussions of violence & paranoia
a. around town.
[ Riz is not doing well.
Riz is, it must be said, rarely doing well. He's the sort of kid who never learned to relax; no matter what, he always seems to be worried about something, the indefatigable machine that simply sprints from place to place, problem to problem, existing on a diet of convenience foods and coffee when left to his own devices, rarely sleeping. To some, he seems no worse than normal; the deep purple shadows underneath his eyes and the propensity to get startled easily and the tell-tale tremble of his hands from too much caffeine just being a part of what makes Riz, Riz. The only other oddity is the fact that he seems to shy away from his own reflection; whether it's a mirror, a pane of glass, or even a metal napkin receptacle, it gets covered up, avoided, or otherwise pushed out of sight.
But he's doing what he does best, which is pretending none of it exists in the first place. Perhaps you catch him late at night at the coffee shop, whiling away the wee hours of the morning with a cup of coffee approximately as large as his head, scribbling wildly in a thick notebook, his square spectacles sliding steadily down his nose. He startles when someone else comes in, jolting in his seat and knocking his cup askew -- possibly spilling it all over your shoes. ] Shit -- sorry, sorry! I wasn't expecting anyone here!
[ Or maybe you run into him during the daytime, at the grocery store shoving an absolutely obscene amount of beef into a shopping cart far bigger than he is, at the clothing store hunting down clothes for himself in the petit section (or childrens section but, well, beggars can't be choosers), or scarfing down food at an alarming rate in the diner. He's a man about town -- and a man who doesn't particularly want to be home too much right now.
Or perhaps you run into him somewhere else entirely, wandering around Bangsan Market, fingers drumming on his elaborately tattooed forearms. ] Okay. Let's say, hypothetically speaking, you just had the worst month ever. What kinda gift would cheer you up...?
[ Or are all gifts meaningless when you don't have to spend any money on them? Hm. Troubling. Very troubling. ]
b. first-aid refreshers.
[ In the wake of everything that's happened and with no handy Cleric nearby, Riz has made the decision to freshen up on his first-aid skills. You can spot him at the hospital loading an obscene amount of materials into his briefcase, which appears to be able to hold endless amounts of supplies; gauze, bandages, needles and thread, antiseptic and antibiotics, and ice packs and heat packs all make their way in.
Otherwise? He's in a public place like the diner, with an enormous tome on first-aid in front of him that he's frowning at in-between applying his expertise to a suturing practice kit he has laid in front of him, his nimble fingers hooking the needle steadfastly through silicone skin. If he notices he has an audience, he might glance up with a sheepish sort of smile, the knitting of his brows off-setting the row of razor-sharp teeth. ] I figure I should get some practice in while I still can. [ He glances down at the wound kits in front of him with a frown. ] I still haven't got the wound packing quite right, I don't think.
c. training.
[ First-aid training is one thing. Riz is dexterous and nimble and has a great attention to detail, all things that have led to him being a dab hand at figuring out how to deal with battlefield injuries. The physical part of the equation is something else, and something he's decided to dedicate himself to, his own exhaustion be damned.
His gunwork is fine. Great, even. He hits his marks with the consistency and precision they require. It's everything else that he's lacking in. Which is how you might spot him doing laps around a field, in a rare showing of having changed out of his usual stuffy suit-and-tie number, and... honestly, not doing that great. When he finally stops, hands braced on his knees and taking a swig out of a bottle of water, he looks like he might keel over.
Otherwise, you might find him on the training grounds, staring dubiously at the weights (he picks one up with both hands, slams it back down again, dubiously walking down the rack as the weights get smaller, and smaller, and smaller...) and looking over at the rest of the gym as though it contains any answers for him. Strength isn't his strong suit, he knows, but maybe he could be stronger? Or, perhaps, you see him with his rapier out, doing the same drills he'd been taught all those months ago at Aguefort Academy. If you pop in and look interested, he may well flag you down and ask, ] Hey, you here to train too?
d. friendship tour.
[ The last task on his to-do list is the hardest one of them all: trying to get better at being a friend, and not just some mechanism made for solving mysteries. It's clear that his brain has been failing him these days, which leaves one more option: trying to become a better friend.
If you're one of Riz's friends or acquaintances, whether he runs into you by chance or he texts you directly, Riz is going to be approaching you to check up on you. It's time to talk. About feelings. Not his own, obviously, but he's checking in on you -- with maybe some food to help ease the blow, or an offer to just get wonderfully, fabulously drunk. They deserve it. ]
e. wildcard!
[ hit me up for anything! you can find me on the discord or on plurk @ wisdombitch xoxoxo ]
WHEN: post-fear event onwards!
WHERE: throughout etraya (shops & diners, hospital, training grounds)
WHAT: in the wake of the fear event, riz gets to work on getting stronger, smarter, and trying to be a better friend (outcome: undecided). I'm down for anything! if you'd like something different, feel free to take up the wildcard or ping me on discord/plurk!
NOTES\WARNINGS: discussions of violence & paranoia
a. around town.
[ Riz is not doing well.
Riz is, it must be said, rarely doing well. He's the sort of kid who never learned to relax; no matter what, he always seems to be worried about something, the indefatigable machine that simply sprints from place to place, problem to problem, existing on a diet of convenience foods and coffee when left to his own devices, rarely sleeping. To some, he seems no worse than normal; the deep purple shadows underneath his eyes and the propensity to get startled easily and the tell-tale tremble of his hands from too much caffeine just being a part of what makes Riz, Riz. The only other oddity is the fact that he seems to shy away from his own reflection; whether it's a mirror, a pane of glass, or even a metal napkin receptacle, it gets covered up, avoided, or otherwise pushed out of sight.
But he's doing what he does best, which is pretending none of it exists in the first place. Perhaps you catch him late at night at the coffee shop, whiling away the wee hours of the morning with a cup of coffee approximately as large as his head, scribbling wildly in a thick notebook, his square spectacles sliding steadily down his nose. He startles when someone else comes in, jolting in his seat and knocking his cup askew -- possibly spilling it all over your shoes. ] Shit -- sorry, sorry! I wasn't expecting anyone here!
[ Or maybe you run into him during the daytime, at the grocery store shoving an absolutely obscene amount of beef into a shopping cart far bigger than he is, at the clothing store hunting down clothes for himself in the petit section (or childrens section but, well, beggars can't be choosers), or scarfing down food at an alarming rate in the diner. He's a man about town -- and a man who doesn't particularly want to be home too much right now.
Or perhaps you run into him somewhere else entirely, wandering around Bangsan Market, fingers drumming on his elaborately tattooed forearms. ] Okay. Let's say, hypothetically speaking, you just had the worst month ever. What kinda gift would cheer you up...?
[ Or are all gifts meaningless when you don't have to spend any money on them? Hm. Troubling. Very troubling. ]
b. first-aid refreshers.
[ In the wake of everything that's happened and with no handy Cleric nearby, Riz has made the decision to freshen up on his first-aid skills. You can spot him at the hospital loading an obscene amount of materials into his briefcase, which appears to be able to hold endless amounts of supplies; gauze, bandages, needles and thread, antiseptic and antibiotics, and ice packs and heat packs all make their way in.
Otherwise? He's in a public place like the diner, with an enormous tome on first-aid in front of him that he's frowning at in-between applying his expertise to a suturing practice kit he has laid in front of him, his nimble fingers hooking the needle steadfastly through silicone skin. If he notices he has an audience, he might glance up with a sheepish sort of smile, the knitting of his brows off-setting the row of razor-sharp teeth. ] I figure I should get some practice in while I still can. [ He glances down at the wound kits in front of him with a frown. ] I still haven't got the wound packing quite right, I don't think.
c. training.
[ First-aid training is one thing. Riz is dexterous and nimble and has a great attention to detail, all things that have led to him being a dab hand at figuring out how to deal with battlefield injuries. The physical part of the equation is something else, and something he's decided to dedicate himself to, his own exhaustion be damned.
His gunwork is fine. Great, even. He hits his marks with the consistency and precision they require. It's everything else that he's lacking in. Which is how you might spot him doing laps around a field, in a rare showing of having changed out of his usual stuffy suit-and-tie number, and... honestly, not doing that great. When he finally stops, hands braced on his knees and taking a swig out of a bottle of water, he looks like he might keel over.
Otherwise, you might find him on the training grounds, staring dubiously at the weights (he picks one up with both hands, slams it back down again, dubiously walking down the rack as the weights get smaller, and smaller, and smaller...) and looking over at the rest of the gym as though it contains any answers for him. Strength isn't his strong suit, he knows, but maybe he could be stronger? Or, perhaps, you see him with his rapier out, doing the same drills he'd been taught all those months ago at Aguefort Academy. If you pop in and look interested, he may well flag you down and ask, ] Hey, you here to train too?
d. friendship tour.
[ The last task on his to-do list is the hardest one of them all: trying to get better at being a friend, and not just some mechanism made for solving mysteries. It's clear that his brain has been failing him these days, which leaves one more option: trying to become a better friend.
If you're one of Riz's friends or acquaintances, whether he runs into you by chance or he texts you directly, Riz is going to be approaching you to check up on you. It's time to talk. About feelings. Not his own, obviously, but he's checking in on you -- with maybe some food to help ease the blow, or an offer to just get wonderfully, fabulously drunk. They deserve it. ]
e. wildcard!
[ hit me up for anything! you can find me on the discord or on plurk @ wisdombitch xoxoxo ]
no subject
.. well, he's never really seen either of these two like this. It's rough. It's-- It's dumb, and it makes him angry, because they didn't have to go through this. There was no reason for it. If there's one thing Fabian will never forgive this place for above all else, it's that fact. ]
We will be.
[ He can't know that for sure, but he's going to say it anyway. He can't give an answer for how they're going to get out of here, but gods be damned if Fabian isn't going to somehow drag both of his friends through this to make sure they're alright. ]
We'll look after Gorgug. It might take a while, but.. he'll get through this. [ Even if it's going to be so difficult in the meantime to see Gorgug like this. But it's.. fine. It's fine. Fabian already was there next to Gorgug while the other woke up and cried his eyes out, and he's going to continue being there, and eventually it's just going to have to get better. He'll find a way.
He moves his arm, only then realizing how wet his shirt is right where Riz face was, and he idly brushes his hand against the fabric as if to get the tear stains out of it that way.
(Of course, it does nothing.)
Then he extends the hand to lightly shove it against Riz's shoulder. ]
And you're going to be fine too, The Ball. Don't you have me right here? [ He's saying it in that classic Fabian 'tch' kind of way.. Still a little tsun tsun after all this vulnerability.. Or just wanting to seem like the strong one in the middle of this mess, really. ]
no subject
He's not sure if Fabian believes himself or not. But him and Fabian -- as much as he jokes about them being Captain Fabian and The Ball, they're equals. He can't be looking at Fabian for guidance like a kid would look to an adult. They're in this thing together, and Fabian's going to need him to get it together too, right? They need to take care of each other. And they need to take care of Gorgug, the true victim of this entire mess. He breathes slow and deep, letting himself still, letting himself calm. If he can do that in a combat situation, he can do that here, safe and sound sitting beside his best friend, with no fight immediately confronting them save for the aftermath of everything else.
He can work up a smile. It's not a big one, all squinted eyes and toothy grins like he usually is, but it's not a fake one either. That's gotta be better than anything else he can do he figures, elbowing Fabian a little in the side as though he can adopt some of his friend's poorly-founded bravado. ]
Yeah. I got you. And you got me. And Gorgug's got both of us.
[ That's got to count for something. They're not as good as cheerleading as the girls - well, as Fig and Kristen; for all that he loves and respects Adaine, he imagines she would have lost patience with their pity party within the day - but they're going to be there for him in whatever way they can figure out. ]
...when it's your turn to have a meltdown, you can have it in my room, okay?
[ He knows Fabian isn't -- great. And that he can't break down now, not when both Riz and Gorgug have evidently fallen apart on him. But if it happens later (when it happens later), hopefully he does the same stupid thing that Riz does instead of pacing around in his room alone. ]
no subject
It's fine. He's fine. Just like Riz also knows - thinks - Fabian has to be fine right now. Even if he's learned a lot during freshman year, it's during moments like these that his father's words still live the most in his head. Rent free. You have to be strong to lead, and in this situation Riz and Gorgug need someone to lead them back to something a little bit closer to normalcy.
So even though he says-- ]
Sure, I'll remember it.
[ --it doesn't sound like he's particularly planning on following up on it. Still, it's.. better than nothing, right... ]
Now, The Ball, I think that the one thing you need right now is the thing you usually don't get any of-- and that's sleep. Seriously, when have you last closed your eyes at all recently?