day ??? | daily dose of whiny baby goat

[unfavoured]

CHARACTERS: Parker ( 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. ]

Comments

[unfavoured]

[ Fight me.

Parker makes a laugh that is devoid of any enjoyment or ingenuity, dropping a hand to her waist. ]

You really are a creepy little asshole.

[inflori]

[ Ugh. ]

So you don't like anyone here. Who did you like back home?

[unfavoured]

[ Well, that seems to do the trick. She tenses up almost immediately, face falls, eyes narrow. There is a sudden burst of guilt, just a brief second, less than that, before she shuts it down entirely. Shielding herself under that prickly armour. ]

That's none of your business.

[ She's done with this. Parker turns around to leave. ]

[inflori]

[ Oh, who knew, she does feel something besides hatred for other people. Must investigate. ]

What was that? The thing you felt just now.

[ because of course a demon doesn't know the first thing about guilt ]

[unfavoured]

[ She is not having this conversation, at all. So she ignores him as she starts to walk down the corridor. ]

[inflori]

You can't ignore me forever.

[ he's just walking after her walksequence.midi ]

[unfavoured]

I'm going to tell you once: leave me alone.

[ Her pace is not brisk, and she doesn't look at him, but her hand clenches around her strap of her backpack with annoyance. ]

[inflori]

What was it? I ask you about liking someone and you feel like shit. Did they hurt you or something?

[ Pause. ]

Maybe you hurt them. Like, actually hurt. Did they live?

[unfavoured]

[ It's one thing to nag her and annoy her until she gets angry. It's a escalation of emotions usually. But this instance, it doesn't take its time to explode.

It goes from zero to a hundred in less than a second.

Parker swings her fist so fast and hard it could almost dislocate someone's jaw, hopefully strong enough to at least disorient him, enough to grab the advantage that moment. Before he has time to recover, Parker is sending him to the floor, pinning him under her, hands curling around the collar of his shirt to keep him down. ]

If you're so curious about hurt, I'll help you out.

[ She hisses dangerously, before just hammering her fist into his face in continuous motion, blatant disregard for how much is too much, flaring anger (guilt in disguise, empty and overpowering and she deals with it alone) the only thing that screams in her head (because they are all dead and she isn't). ]

[inflori]

[ Needless to say that's - a surprise. Not completely unexpected, because Petre's always on the lookout to pressing this bitch's buttons, but even after all their matches he hasn't felt anything like this. If he thinks about it, Petre was the one instigated into it all the time, and Parker was only too eager to fight back. Somehow he was the one with all the anger, while she only harbored - whatever it was. He still doesn't fully understand it, but at least now he knows what it can turn into.

Thrown down on the floor, her punches pile blood and bruises and gashes on his face, nose broken, lips split from slamming into his teeth, a couple of which are goners by now. She might as well be determined to kill him. Her very own version of a state of berserk: blinded, piled with energy that can only result in an explosion once it finds an outlet.

And that's when he begins to laugh. Somehow, between the gargling of all his blood, the pain that's become so intense it's practically numbing all his senses, Petre is beyond ecstatic. He did it, he finally got to her, and this is her filled with true wrath. He's soaking it all up until she stops. Until then she'll just have to keep bruising him while his bones and muscles and skin knit back together, over and over. ]

[unfavoured]

[ All the anger she has been bundling up explodes in one sudden moment like that, holding the demon child down with her outburst. It's not just anger, it's guilt, it's the void growing and growing and the immeasurable sense of loss, the control that slips away, the agency that she has always held on to ripped from her, and everyone telling her it's wrong of her to fight against it when it has been all her life like that. It's the fact that Arthur isn't there anymore for her, and that's not fair. It's the fact that Anne won't make her laugh anymore, and it's not fair. It's the fact that her heart won't skip for Jamal's touch that will never be there anymore, and it's not fair. That maybe she will never again be a good person because they were her pillars and grounding forces and maybe she should give up.

It's the fact that she will never be able to forgive herself and never get over the disgust that fills over her when she looks into a mirror. Because she's alive and they are all dead.

She beats him up until she's exhausted, trembling arms and ragged breath, through his maniac laughter. Blood splattered onto her face, teeth marks split open in her knuckles. She stops punching for a second to grab onto his shirt again, teeth gritted in horrifying hurt coiling inside her and pulsing and disgust and all of the things she can't peel away. She was once close to forgive herself for it. But like a carefully built sand castle too close to the shore, it has been washed away when she was displaced. ]

Fuck you, piece of shit.

[ She says without remorse for the state of his face, throwing him down roughly back to the floor, getting off of him. ]

[inflori]

[ Petre consciously doesn't move. He just waits it out, because Parker is only human, and humans eventually get exhausted with their bursts of violence. He gets used to everything soon enough, and waits until his face has built back enough to have discernible features, covered almost entirely in blood and spit and snot. He doesn't bother to wipe any of it off when he sits up without a single sign of bruise on his face anymore. Even his eyes aren't swollen. Propped up on the flat of his hands, he touches his lower lip and dips it in his mouth, just to find a taste of Parker's blood.

Could be worse. Time to spit out the excess of his own.

Phew. ]

Feel better now?

[unfavoured]

[ No, she doesn't. She only feels closer to the brink of her own destruction. She only feels like crying. She feels like giving up. She has felt like that for a long time now. And the more time passes, the bigger the feeling grows, as she becomes more and more a shell. The will to do the right thing wavering and becoming pointless. All the driving forces of her being seeped away by this dark cloud that constantly makes her second guess everything. The voices in the back of her head, wondering what's the point. There's none anymore, is there?

It's a return to her state of mind to the long months in captivity. To the invisibility of it.

Parker looks at him with a face that tells none of it. ]

Maybe you ought to ask Angel to clean you up. Oh-- Wait. You can't. [ A pointed look. Yeah, that's right.

And she turns to leave. ]

[inflori]

I know what you're doing!

[ He stretches out his sleeves, wipes the fluids off his mouth. That's the only part he cares about now. ]

Maybe you did really hate Angel, [ He says, standing up lazily, ] But I know why you say it now. You don't care if she's here, you just wanna piss me off.

[ And now he knows better. Who knew this idiot could learn anything. ]

At least it's not my fault she's gone, right?

[unfavoured]

[ With part of the adrenaline drained from her via bruised fists, Parker holds off on turning around for the first couple of words, even with the rattle inside her chest that leaves it uncomfortable and tight and sick in her stomach.

It isn't until he tugs her string again that she stops. And there's an effort to ignore that darker side of her, that everyone has: the one telling her to make sure he knows who he's dealing with like some unhinged monster. She has to stop for a second, trying to calm herself down (to no avail). She slowly turns to look over her shoulder to him, eyes narrowing. ]

Maybe. [ She says coldly, staring at him and his bloodied face. It isn't really her, this thing she is becoming, her own self slowly burying under this thing taking over. ] Maybe it was this place's fault. Maybe this place didn't want you to have her.

[inflori]

[ The smile isn't on his lips anymore. It isn't wiped off by surprise or anger, it relaxes into a focus that isn't quite there anymore. If he didn't know better (or know less), it might be some kind of sadness.

It's actually resentment. ]

Of course it's this place's fault.

[ Angel wanted him. He wanted Angel. And they took her away from him, when he had no one else. ]