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station722017-02-10 11:54 am
unfavoured) wrote in station722017-02-10 11:54 am
day ??? | daily dose of whiny baby goat
CHARACTERS: Parker ( unfavoured ) & [ open ]
WHERE: Station 72
WHEN: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
SUMMARY: Why are you the way you are?
WARNINGS: Parker.
[ Claustrophobia had not been something she suffered from in the past, but after a year of solitary confinement, who can blame someone from feeling anxious about being locked in closed spaces, especially when said someone is someone that enjoys fresh air - and needs it to take relaxing walks. Parker wouldn't admit she suffers from it, but there is definitely indications of it when she starts to stress out even in the long corridors that seem to go on and on along the Station.
It's the closest thing she has to "walk it off" and at least it wasn't a smal room guarded by private security, even if she constantly feels like she is being watched.
She's been walking without any direction for at least thirty minutes and she hasn't found one place that has any windows. She thinks she's been further away from insanity months ago. She halts her stride, sighing to herself in irritation as she pinches the bridge of her nose, eyes burning from tiredness. She never looks too well nowadays, dark circles under her eyes and her hair, longer now than she was when she first arrived, curling at odd angles at the ends.
She looks at the ceiling and then forward. There's someone coming, but she isn't paying attention to them.
Dammit. She's lost again. ]
[ How long can a human being go, straining herself to the far end of the rope? Stretching all of that exhaustion until you don't even have any strength left in your fingers? It all varies, from person to person, and Parker lately seems to be trying to test that limit. At least, that's the impression someone could take from it, if she didn't make an effort to be a non-existent entity. Keeping distance, avoiding people, sleeping anywhere that's mostly deserted. Even using the kitchen has become a rare activity, because there is always someone - and in any case, everything tastes like ash.
The tiredness is not only physical as it is mental, and yet the only way she can figure to overcome is to keep her mind off of everything.
She can still be found in the training wing, the only one place she is able to stand if only because of how deeply focused she is when it comes to practice. But this time around, she doesn't seem as concentrated in what she's doing, nor as good as she tries to be. Clearly so, as the wall climbing she was exercising ends up with her arms giving out twenty-odd feet up and Parker falling on her side with a loud, dry sound. Air knocked out of her, she coughs when she finally gets some oxygen flow going in her lungs. Parker slowly sits up, ragged breath, leaning her arms on her knees. She leans forward, resting her forehead on her hand, holding on to her wrist. She's just going to. Sit for a minute there. By all means, there should be at least a broken bone there, but it doesn't seem the case.
Only broken pride. Nobody saw that. ]
[ She can be found here and there, mostly quiet places. Her mood is less than optimal and she's 100% more irritable at the moment. This is why, if you want to read about whiny babies. ]
unfavoured ) & [ open ]WHERE: Station 72
WHEN: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
SUMMARY: Why are you the way you are?
WARNINGS: Parker.
❚❚❚❚❚ and I like the way the sun feels
[ Claustrophobia had not been something she suffered from in the past, but after a year of solitary confinement, who can blame someone from feeling anxious about being locked in closed spaces, especially when said someone is someone that enjoys fresh air - and needs it to take relaxing walks. Parker wouldn't admit she suffers from it, but there is definitely indications of it when she starts to stress out even in the long corridors that seem to go on and on along the Station.
It's the closest thing she has to "walk it off" and at least it wasn't a smal room guarded by private security, even if she constantly feels like she is being watched.
She's been walking without any direction for at least thirty minutes and she hasn't found one place that has any windows. She thinks she's been further away from insanity months ago. She halts her stride, sighing to herself in irritation as she pinches the bridge of her nose, eyes burning from tiredness. She never looks too well nowadays, dark circles under her eyes and her hair, longer now than she was when she first arrived, curling at odd angles at the ends.
She looks at the ceiling and then forward. There's someone coming, but she isn't paying attention to them.
Dammit. She's lost again. ]
❚❚❚❚❚ one caves in one other
[ How long can a human being go, straining herself to the far end of the rope? Stretching all of that exhaustion until you don't even have any strength left in your fingers? It all varies, from person to person, and Parker lately seems to be trying to test that limit. At least, that's the impression someone could take from it, if she didn't make an effort to be a non-existent entity. Keeping distance, avoiding people, sleeping anywhere that's mostly deserted. Even using the kitchen has become a rare activity, because there is always someone - and in any case, everything tastes like ash.
The tiredness is not only physical as it is mental, and yet the only way she can figure to overcome is to keep her mind off of everything.
She can still be found in the training wing, the only one place she is able to stand if only because of how deeply focused she is when it comes to practice. But this time around, she doesn't seem as concentrated in what she's doing, nor as good as she tries to be. Clearly so, as the wall climbing she was exercising ends up with her arms giving out twenty-odd feet up and Parker falling on her side with a loud, dry sound. Air knocked out of her, she coughs when she finally gets some oxygen flow going in her lungs. Parker slowly sits up, ragged breath, leaning her arms on her knees. She leans forward, resting her forehead on her hand, holding on to her wrist. She's just going to. Sit for a minute there. By all means, there should be at least a broken bone there, but it doesn't seem the case.
Only broken pride. Nobody saw that. ]
❚❚❚❚❚ wildcard.
[ She can be found here and there, mostly quiet places. Her mood is less than optimal and she's 100% more irritable at the moment. This is why, if you want to read about whiny babies. ]
no subject
[ Just missing the "Duh!" at the end of the sentence for her flat, sarcastic delivery make a bigger impact. Eyebrows climbing up her forehead, eyes widening slightly with her fingers spread. "What now?", she seems to say.
But it's a question that doesn't need an answer - and one that she quickly abandons anyway for the following words. Parker narrows her eyes at her, tilting her head down with eyebrows creasing frowns on her skin. ]
Are you serious right now? [ Not so much disbelief as she's almost offended by it, her shoulders setting dangerous, the muscles moving under glistening bruises and skin.
Still, she'll indulge. ]
My place is the one I choose for myself. It's certainly not for you, not for any of them, not for those insane aliens that vomit inane bullshit, to tell me where I should stand. So mind your own business. Be the lapdog you want to be. I'm not interested.
no subject
That fear grounds her.]
Eventually, you will contradict yourself into nothing this way. You are the first—the only—to accuse me of this here. Applying a meaning to something that isn't there won't benefit you.
[She is somewhat aware that she is doing the same with these words, but just the same, her frustration is palpable.]
no subject
When she turns around again, she arches an eyebrow with a humourless laugh, which is more like a breathy "ah" than anything else. ]
Yeah, sure. I'm the one assuming. Listen to yourself. Spew any bullshit you want, but get it through your thick skull: you're nothing. But hey, if you don't like what I'm saying, just-- stop talking to me. Unlike you, I don't spend my time trying to convince others of what I am or am not. In fact, I would rather not talk to you at all.
[ And as she finishes her tirade, Parker walks towards the exit - but has to go through Lexa to do so. She isn't above bumping shoulders hard enough to try to make a point (there's no point to be made, she just really doesn't like Lexa). Move, geddout the way. ]
no subject
It wasn't.]
We all can see what you're doing to yourself. You may believe that you have principles, but it's clear that you're killing yourself. Is that what you want?
no subject
Do you ever listen to yourself and wonder how you can function at all?
[ She gives her a little shrug. ]
How many times do I have to say that I don't care about what you think? Do you really think anyone here cares what you think? They don't. You can try to lie to yourself, but you don't matter. Not really.
[ Parker touches the side of her head. ]
That parasite in your head does. Or do you think they'd give a shit about rescuing anyone here if we didn't have it? Grow up.
no subject
Do you think people will rescue you if I decide that you're not worth the space in this Nest? Would your symbiote even care, being latched on to a life form such as yourself? You offer nothing but the eventual reality that no one cares for you. [Or not so eventual.]
I'm curious to test that theory. [To put her in her place. Lexa's ego isn't bruised. Parker's words are akin to a chihuahua desperately nipping at her heels while having no teeth.
Not that she's ever seen a chihuahua.]