James Tiberius Kirk (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
universal_charm) wrote2014-09-16 10:10 pm
universal_charm) wrote2014-09-16 10:10 pm
Entry tags:
The Empty Space Inside My Head [ Action / Voice ]
[ He woke up to an empty bed, which in and of itself wasn't unusual. Spock got up earlier than him most days, but there was something different about it today. The bed wasn't warm, wasn't the sort of muffled from being made up so as not to wake him. He sat up and stared at the empty space, because if he stared long enough that wrongness would go away, wouldn't it? Instinctively he reached out as Spock had taught him... and felt nothing. It was his own head, his own space, his own feelings and nothing of that quiet pressure in the back of his head. It was gone and he was alone in his head, and despite himself he felt his eyes burning as he tried to keep staring and make it not true.
Eventually he noticed the PADD on the bedside, and he reached for it, turning it on and curling in on himself as he read it through misty eyes. He hadn't felt like this since Pike died, since he had lost someone so important in his life that it left a super nova inside his head, in the little universe he had constructed to show Spock when they meditated. This was why he didn't do relationships, why he didn't get close to anyone, why he knew it had to be a bad idea, and damn Spock for this and the Malnosso and all of it-!
Eventually he got himself out of bed, the immediate sadness giving way to anger - at everything, anyone. An anger he could use to keep himself moving like he had before. He dressed himself and went to the Battle Dome, claiming a room and locking it before he started up the sims. He knew, in the back of his mind, he knew that this wasn't going to make him feel better in the long run or make this not real or make him wake up from what had to be a long, terrible, cruel dream. It didn't matter though. He understood this - the lashing of fists, punching, kicking, kneeing, rolling and dodging. Understood the burn of his muscles and his lungs, the drip of sweat down his face and the sting of pain. He understood that, could function with that like he always had and let himself drift in the haze of reaction and anger. He drifted until it pulled him under and he collapsed, soaked in sweat and trembling, gasping for air.
When he had enough of himself back he grabbed the stupid little journal and opened it, keying it to voice only. He didn't want people to actually see him like this. ]
[ Audio ]
[ There's several moments of panting - and not the pervy kind, the kind that said someone was bone tired, utterly exhausted, and possibly emotionally distressed - or scared. ]
Spock's gone home.
[ Another pause, while he debated what else to say, but what was there? The transmission ended. ]
[ /End Audio ]
[ He tossed the journal aside and pushed himself back to his feet, wobbling for a minute and then shook his head and keyed up the sim again. What he wouldn't give to have a serial murderer super soldier to go after this time. ]
Eventually he noticed the PADD on the bedside, and he reached for it, turning it on and curling in on himself as he read it through misty eyes. He hadn't felt like this since Pike died, since he had lost someone so important in his life that it left a super nova inside his head, in the little universe he had constructed to show Spock when they meditated. This was why he didn't do relationships, why he didn't get close to anyone, why he knew it had to be a bad idea, and damn Spock for this and the Malnosso and all of it-!
Eventually he got himself out of bed, the immediate sadness giving way to anger - at everything, anyone. An anger he could use to keep himself moving like he had before. He dressed himself and went to the Battle Dome, claiming a room and locking it before he started up the sims. He knew, in the back of his mind, he knew that this wasn't going to make him feel better in the long run or make this not real or make him wake up from what had to be a long, terrible, cruel dream. It didn't matter though. He understood this - the lashing of fists, punching, kicking, kneeing, rolling and dodging. Understood the burn of his muscles and his lungs, the drip of sweat down his face and the sting of pain. He understood that, could function with that like he always had and let himself drift in the haze of reaction and anger. He drifted until it pulled him under and he collapsed, soaked in sweat and trembling, gasping for air.
When he had enough of himself back he grabbed the stupid little journal and opened it, keying it to voice only. He didn't want people to actually see him like this. ]
[ Audio ]
[ There's several moments of panting - and not the pervy kind, the kind that said someone was bone tired, utterly exhausted, and possibly emotionally distressed - or scared. ]
Spock's gone home.
[ Another pause, while he debated what else to say, but what was there? The transmission ended. ]
[ /End Audio ]
[ He tossed the journal aside and pushed himself back to his feet, wobbling for a minute and then shook his head and keyed up the sim again. What he wouldn't give to have a serial murderer super soldier to go after this time. ]
Voice > Action
[ Finding him didn't take long. Zev arrives quietly, eyes somber, bottle of bourbon and glasses in hand. It is never easy to lose someone you care for quite so dearly. He's not certain what help he might be, but he wishes to lend his aid all the same. ]
Re: Voice > Action
He looked up when Zev came in. He must have not locked it back up when he'd exited briefly to use the bathroom. ]
Welcome to my humble abode.
Action
[ If he wouldn't mind it. Still, it's an offer he makes along with one quickly poured shot of bourbon. Anything more or less would depend on Jim's reaction. ]
Re: Action
He reaches out and takes the shot, tossing it back and rolling the now empty glass in his hand. The liquor burned, and he welcomed that. A new sensation, a physical one, one that didn't hurt so badly. ]
You going to help me up or not?
Action
[ He pours Jim another shot and moves to the control console, plugging in a new set. The scene flickers and changes, giving them a balmy night in antiva, the sea glimmering in the moonlight, the stars above, the creak of boats in their moorings. He and Jim are on a rooftop facing the ocean. ]
Besides. This is best drunk sprawled on a roof, is it not?
Re: Action
[ He looks around as it changes. He had never really thought to do that with this, but... maybe he hadn't wanted to. It simulated your home, but you knew it was a fake. Why go through that? Well, it wasn't his simulation anyways, so no use thinking to much about it. ]
Careful, I'll think you're already trying to seduce me now that I'm a free man.
Action
[ He pours them both a glass of bourbn and settles next to him, staring out to the ocean. It rings hollow, but it had when he was growing up all the same. ]
When you leave you will be with him once more. Between now and then? It matters little. This is a dream. A passing moment in the haze that is life.
Re: Action
Oh, so you worked that out, huh? Well, never actually done a foursome to be honest...
[ He took another shot of the bourbon, closing his eyes as he let the burn of it comfort him down his throat and to his belly. A hollow comfort, a passing one, but a comfort all the same and one he willingly embraced since his body had betrayed him and he couldn't find the strength to keep submerging himself in the pain of physical exertion. ]
Can you spare me the poetry crap? It's not a damn funeral, he went home and I'm still stuck here, that's all.
[ He couldn't handle sympathy. Kind words. It wasn't in him to handle those things, to accept them, not yet. ]
Action
[ Seriously. What is it that he heard? Let him try again. ]
Life is short. Life is cheap. Life here ultimately is without meaning as it is completely forgotten upon your arrival home. When you return home you'll remember absolutely nothing of this place. Of what you shared with Spock. So my friend- in a way? It is a funeral. Drink.
Re: Action
You really know how to cheer a guy up, you know?
[ He gives him a look that says this is the most untrue statement he has ever spoken in his life, but he takes another drink all the same and despite himself leans against the Antivian, looking out at the "sky" and the "landscape" around them. Had to hand it to the sims, they were pretty top notch. ]
This where you grew up?
On Wed, Sep 24, 2014 at 1:23 PM, antivanleather - DW Comment < dw_null@dreamwidth.org <javascript:_e(%7b%7d,'cvml','dw_null@dreamwidth.org');>> wrote:
Action
[ He loops an arm around Jim's waist, knocking back his own shot of bourbon. ]
Mhm. In the building we are sitting on I was kept with other children as we learned to endure cramped places, limited food, and a harsh training regimen.
Re: Action
Well, if it's tasteless and odorless and the target really likes pie...
[ He shrugged, but leaned against the other, holding out his glass for a refill. ]
Right, I'm going to redo that and say this is a lovely village in your world with a nice night view. Let's roll with that, shall we?
Re: Action
Forgive me. I forget that it is disquieting to most to hear of how I was raised. This is the docks of Antiva city, the gem of all Antiva. Until A few years ago I had never left the boarders of my country, and only ever rarely left Antiva City. She is lovely in the moonlight, yes? This very roof is where I learned to whistle. Now you would think it is no vital skill for an assassin to have, whistling, but I didn't think of it's application until a few years later. At the time it was just...Children learning to whistle.
Can you whistle, Jim?
Re: Action
[ In response, he pursed his lips together and blew, making up some tune as he went, unable to actually settle on a song and figuring Zev wouldn't know any of them anyways. ]
It annoyed the crap out of my uncle. Best skill I ever learned at six years old.
Action
Re: Action
Yeah. Mine tended to be causing as much trouble as I could. But that's what happens when you don't give a ten year old boy something constructive to do...
Action
Re: Action
I lived on a farm not worth the dirt it sat on. You do the math.
[ He looked up at him and arched a brow and jangled his glass for another pour, a delightful buzz sneaking up on him, his muscles relaxing despite the abuse he had just put them through. ]
Action
So living on a farm is not all delightful songs and chores as I have been informed in the past?
Re: Action
Not when it's made out of a dust bowl, no. I was mostly just left there because I didn't have other family to care for me while Mom was away doing whatever she did out in the stars, and she paid him.
[ He shrugged, not thinking any more or less of the situation than what it was. No use crying over spilled milk, right? At least he sipped his drink slower this time. ]
Action
Re: Action
My dad died right when I was born. He's a hero, in Star Fleet. He saved his crew and I think saved the universe for a little bit.
[ So the save the universe part might be exaggerating a tiny bit, but he had come to appreciate the sacrifice his dad made. Let him embellish a little. ]
I think my grandparents were dead or incapable of caring for me. I never met them.
Action
[ Since they are sharing tales. Another shot for himself, an offer of another for Kirk. ]
From the most barren of furrows there may yet flourish some magnificent trees.
Re: Action
[ Oh yes another shot please. ]
That was deep. Get a few more shots in me and I might appreciate it more.
[ Though he kind of got what he meant. He might not have much blood family, but he had plenty of family he made for himself - his friends. ]
I bet growing up in a brothel was interesting.
Action
Re: Action
Action