Lord El-Melloi II [AU] (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fionnuisce) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
towerofanimus2014-01-21 08:14 pm
fionnuisce) wrote in towerofanimus2014-01-21 08:14 pm
[open] // a single thrown grenade
Characters: Waver and open
Date: Backdated to January 16th
Location: dorm floors, laboratory, infirmary, lounge
Format: starting in brackets
Summary: Nyx Avatar aftermath.
Warnings: Just Waver's terrible language, scarring, and mentions of death.
[dorm floors]
[Fuck this. Fuck all of it. That was the bottom line of Waver's current thoughts. He hadn't slept so much as a second the previous night; instead it had been spent taking care of his injuries and cleaning the blood off the golden spear he held even now, as he walked through the dormitory floors. Just over four and a half feet long, Waver carried the weapon at his side, parallel with his arm and blade pointed downwards to avoid hitting anything with it.]
[It could have been the lack of sleep that caused the unusual look on his face--but that was unlikely. Exhaustion alone wouldn't cause the utterly indifferent expression, and it wasn't known to cause the completely dead and blank look in his eyes. He'd gone beyond even dismissal and sarcasm now, skating headlong into halting and suppressing all emotional processes. They just weren't worth it, and he didn't need them. There was no time or energy to waste on such things, not when there still remained so much work to do in order to stand a chance of getting out of here. As soon as he'd returned that weapon to its owner, Waver intended to head straight for the laboratory.]
[This place and the work that needed to be done didn't require Waver Velvet--it required a proper magus, cold and analytical. Devoted to work and nothing more. If he was so wrapped up in his own pathetic problems, no one would survive or escape this place. Simple.]
[floor twenty-seven; laboratory]
[As focused as Waver usually was on whatever he was doing, today he was several times more so. Every hour or so he switched between studying his own research on the collar fluid to the regained notes written by Kayneth regarding Volumen Hydragyrum. Working as much as physically possible seemed a viable option, especially when placed next to the choice of doing nothing. Though the pace at which he seemed to be working suggested something about him was not entirely well, the same impassive stare remained on his face throughout.]
[Working, it seemed, was his main coping mechanism and reassurance. If not his only ones.]
[floor two; infirmary]
[By late afternoon, it occurred to Waver that he'd recieved his share of injuries in the previous day's fight. Self-preservation dictated he tear himself away from his work at that point and make his way to the infirmary. Most of what he'd suffered amounted to bruises and scratches, but even that could be problematic without being properly checked up on and cared for.]
[He discarded his dark green suit jacket and black shirt, tossing both to the silver maid that stood behind him--scars from jagged stab wounds were visible on his shoulder, while a slightly more recent and neater one was clear on his right forearm. Regarding the utter mess he was with blank indifference, Waver glanced over the bruises and scratches from yesterday before starting to bandage up the latter. If he ended up getting some kind of infection, he might have ended up more annoyed than he already was.]
[floor four; lounge]
[Deciding to wander aimlessly and stretch his legs for a bit before returning to the lab, Waver found himself standing in the lounge staring out the window. By now the lecturer looked distracted more than he did blank and cold--it could have been that something outside caught his interest, but more likely was that he was utterly lost in thought as to what to do or where to go with his research from there.]
[Nothing else mattered anymore, did it? As long as Waver could work out a way for everyone to live through this place, his own loosening grip on sanity would be a small price to pay. So screw it all--he'd ignore everyone and everything, and devote himself only to research and working to escape. Everything else could take second priority.]
Date: Backdated to January 16th
Location: dorm floors, laboratory, infirmary, lounge
Format: starting in brackets
Summary: Nyx Avatar aftermath.
Warnings: Just Waver's terrible language, scarring, and mentions of death.
[dorm floors]
[Fuck this. Fuck all of it. That was the bottom line of Waver's current thoughts. He hadn't slept so much as a second the previous night; instead it had been spent taking care of his injuries and cleaning the blood off the golden spear he held even now, as he walked through the dormitory floors. Just over four and a half feet long, Waver carried the weapon at his side, parallel with his arm and blade pointed downwards to avoid hitting anything with it.]
[It could have been the lack of sleep that caused the unusual look on his face--but that was unlikely. Exhaustion alone wouldn't cause the utterly indifferent expression, and it wasn't known to cause the completely dead and blank look in his eyes. He'd gone beyond even dismissal and sarcasm now, skating headlong into halting and suppressing all emotional processes. They just weren't worth it, and he didn't need them. There was no time or energy to waste on such things, not when there still remained so much work to do in order to stand a chance of getting out of here. As soon as he'd returned that weapon to its owner, Waver intended to head straight for the laboratory.]
[This place and the work that needed to be done didn't require Waver Velvet--it required a proper magus, cold and analytical. Devoted to work and nothing more. If he was so wrapped up in his own pathetic problems, no one would survive or escape this place. Simple.]
[floor twenty-seven; laboratory]
[As focused as Waver usually was on whatever he was doing, today he was several times more so. Every hour or so he switched between studying his own research on the collar fluid to the regained notes written by Kayneth regarding Volumen Hydragyrum. Working as much as physically possible seemed a viable option, especially when placed next to the choice of doing nothing. Though the pace at which he seemed to be working suggested something about him was not entirely well, the same impassive stare remained on his face throughout.]
[Working, it seemed, was his main coping mechanism and reassurance. If not his only ones.]
[floor two; infirmary]
[By late afternoon, it occurred to Waver that he'd recieved his share of injuries in the previous day's fight. Self-preservation dictated he tear himself away from his work at that point and make his way to the infirmary. Most of what he'd suffered amounted to bruises and scratches, but even that could be problematic without being properly checked up on and cared for.]
[He discarded his dark green suit jacket and black shirt, tossing both to the silver maid that stood behind him--scars from jagged stab wounds were visible on his shoulder, while a slightly more recent and neater one was clear on his right forearm. Regarding the utter mess he was with blank indifference, Waver glanced over the bruises and scratches from yesterday before starting to bandage up the latter. If he ended up getting some kind of infection, he might have ended up more annoyed than he already was.]
[floor four; lounge]
[Deciding to wander aimlessly and stretch his legs for a bit before returning to the lab, Waver found himself standing in the lounge staring out the window. By now the lecturer looked distracted more than he did blank and cold--it could have been that something outside caught his interest, but more likely was that he was utterly lost in thought as to what to do or where to go with his research from there.]
[Nothing else mattered anymore, did it? As long as Waver could work out a way for everyone to live through this place, his own loosening grip on sanity would be a small price to pay. So screw it all--he'd ignore everyone and everything, and devote himself only to research and working to escape. Everything else could take second priority.]
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Talk to him. He's probably more torn up than you. Kiss and make up; I need people who are focused. I can't afford having weak links.
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What has everyone been doing to me the past week, Waver? I wasn't allowed to retreat, and I'm not going to let you. We have been through too much, at this point, to walk away. Even if it happened yesterday.
Are you telling me that everything we talked about, everything they talked about, is something I should disregard? Because I'd like that, Waver. I will go back to the greenhouse and sit there for the next six months. Let the cracked rib Diarmuid gave me heal. The broken heart for Elena. Maybe even let the hope you gave me fade.
I'm no longer the same man I was when I got here, professor. It's not for me I'm doing this. It's for everybody else, as it should have been from the beginning. That's what that pin you accepted means.
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I've made some effort to worry about 'everybody else' for a long time, Reno. Mostly because I don't really give a shit about myself--if I lose my life or sanity trying to help people, fine.
But I'm not like you, Reno. I don't have a family and it would be a stretch to say I have friends. Diarmuid's all I have, period. And now that I've prioritized doing what I find happens to be right or even convenient over his life, there's really no way back. I'm no better now than his previous Master was.
Either I cut myself off and work only to save everyone here, or I try to balance both and leave myself and my glaring weaknesses open to people like Sephiroth. Given the choices, I'd rather be alone.
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Diarmuid knew the consequences of tangling with Sephiroth. It's his own actions that led there, as much as it is Sephiroth's. If it wasn't you, who would it be? Does it matter? Diarmuid Ua Duibhne is a man I know would rather die than let someone else use him for their own purposes against his family. I have no idea what went down, but if you killed him, I'm damned sure there's a good reason. And he'd know and understand that. That's the kind of honor he has.
And if it's one thing everyone has been pounding into my head lately, it's that we're weakest when we're alone. So you can take that shit and stuff it up Sephiroth's ass. Even on Gaia he wasn't defeated by a single hero. It took all of us.
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[Scowling, Waver seemed to regret the kneejerk response. Finally he started faltering, crossing his arms and looking away.]
Fuck. Listen, I-...can't let this happen again. Even putting aside that I don't want to put up with this revenge bullshit anymore, I just can't let this continue. How else am I meant to stop some smartass targeting people I care about other than just not caring?
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Not caring is not going to make them stop. Not caring is going to ruin what little you have left to hang on here. The thing is... they don't care. Do you want to become like them?
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[He was already just like every other idiot magus back home. How much worse was one step further after that?]
If I don't care, then it won't matter when a worthless third-generation magus can't save anyone and we all die horribly when this is over.
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[He's flat again, but this time the steel has retreated somewhat.]
I don't feel anything. I know I'm going to die. I should be scared. I used to be scared. It's the price I paid for getting up again. Right now, my only concern with you is having you functional. If you don't want to be, then say so now and I'll take you off the roster and leave you alone like you want. Spend the rest of the time we have in misery- I'm not going to care. But Diarmuid will.
Can you honestly say that what he thinks won't matter to you?
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[Waver couldn't quite force himself to finish with 'shouldn't'. Why should anyone care about Waver, who only failed and let others down when things mattered the most? What was the point?]
[Even though that was the case, he knew full well people did. Right now, that knowledge just made him sick. Finding worth in someone worthless should have been impossible; why would anyone seem intent on trying?]
...I fucking hate this. I hate it, I hate all of it. [Waver pressed a hand to his head, turning pale.] I can't do this, I can't look at that brainless idiot and hear 'it's not your fault' or whatever he wants to tell me. Christ, I almost want him to hate me for what I did yesterday.
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[Reno doesn't seem to be joking here.]
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I...need a little time. Just--just leave me alone for a while and let me sort this utter bullshit out.
no subject
This place has pulled apart too many relationships. Mark me, I'm not going to let you throw yours away.