ᴀᴅᴅɪsᴏɴ ᴘᴀʀᴋᴇʀ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
unfavoured) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
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. ]
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[ he's just walking after her walksequence.midi ]
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[ Her pace is not brisk, and she doesn't look at him, but her hand clenches around her strap of her backpack with annoyance. ]
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[ Pause. ]
Maybe you hurt them. Like, actually hurt. Did they live?
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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). ]
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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. ]
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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. ]
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Could be worse. Time to spit out the excess of his own.
Phew. ]
Feel better now?
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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. ]
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[ 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?
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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.
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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. ]