Rich Goranski (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
firewalled) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
come_sailaway2023-01-13 12:51 pm
firewalled) wrote in come_sailaway2023-01-13 12:51 pm
[Open] So scream you, out from behind the bitter ache
WHO: Rich Goranski and... apparently anyone who can handle Rich's particular brand of self-destruction
WHERE: Balcony area above the pool, lounge, and Topy
WHAT: Rich ponders what he'll left behind and if it's better to not need to leave at all. After, unofficial Teen Party Part 2: Vandalism
WHEN: January 13th and 14th??? I don't know, time is meaningless
WARNINGS: Definitely heavy suicidal ideation for A and B, descriptions of abuse and alcoholism for C, destruction! If you are scared of angry teens, that may be a problem.
A. You still want love, love's ugly, smooth and delicate [Pool Balcony] [CW: Suicidal ideation]
[Rich probably should have developed an aversion to the pools already.
They were the most exposed areas on the ship, so he never liked them in the first place. The sun was too harsh on his burns, even if he lathered on sunscreen and wore the floppiest of hats the Tommy Bahama had to offer. He didn't really know how to swim either, so it's not like he had a reason to hang around here.
And then, well, there was that whole 'first death' thing, even if most of the memories surrounding it are fuzzy panic, sharp pain, and then... whatever you would call the minimal form of existence when he was in that void. Left with nothing but his thoughts and a general sense of being aware.
Maybe that's why he's ended up here again. It's early enough in the morning that he's barely cognizant of anything besides consciousness. Well, that and the growing pit of guilt in his stomach.
He climbs up to where the adult pool is, and approaches one of the balconies. He can see a good portion of the ship here, aside from the sports deck a little higher. He kind of wonders if there's a ladder or something to get up on the radio towers. Is that actually for a radio? Does it matter?
If there was a radio here, the Captain wouldn't let him use it. He's not smart enough to use that. He's not smart enough to do anything, really.
Before he knows it, he's up on the railing, crouched down so he can grab the rungs with his hands. He wobbles a bit, back and forth, back and forth... he shouldn't be up here. It's not stable, but yet he's testing himself anyways, letting go with one hand, then grabbing back on and trying the other hand. He looks down at the deck below, the stretch of beach chairs leading to the pool.
He wonders what would happen if he jumped and cracked his skull in the pool again. Or maybe went overboard entirely. Would he learn anything if he went that way?
...Of course not. He's useless. He hasn't accomplished anything here. Seeing the ring dangling on the chain from his neck and the frayed bracelet on his wrist... those are just anchors.
All he does is hold people back. He's been a burden to many and a relief to none. What kind of life is worth that?
He looks back behind him and smirks a bit when he sees someone approaching, as if he hasn't been sitting here contemplating his own death for what could have been hours.]
Hey. Dare me to make a cannonball?
B. But not without affection, you're not alone [Lounge] [CW: Suicidal ideation but a little less bad]
[It isn't a rare occurrence to see Rich caterwauling, but at least he tries to keep it to Bellona usually. For some reason, he isn't there today. Maybe he needed a change of scenery. Maybe he was too tired to trek all the way to the theatre from his cabin. Maybe he just wants someone to yell at him to shut up.
Whatever the reason, he's sitting at a couch, foot idly tapping along to an unheard beat as he sings softly along with the gentle chords.]
Don't try to wake me in the morning, 'cause I will be gone
Don't feel bad for me, I want you to know
Deep in the cell of my heart, I will feel so glad to go...
Heh. Cheesy as hell.
[Dimitri would probably still cry if he heard it. Darcy'd probably mock him though. Or fight him.
He wishes she'd at least fight him.]
C. Instead of wishing that it would get better, man, you're seeing that you just get angrier [Topy] [CW: Abuse, alcoholism]
[There's so much alcohol in here. The kind of fancy shit his dad would have drooled over. He probably had a bottle like this at the wedding or something. Maybe there were a couple bottles hidden in the back of the cupboard for special occasions. Or for whenever he had run out of beer.
He has a dim memory from a few years back... one of Jake's parties. One of the first ones he'd gone to, and the SQUIP was insistent on him making a good impression. He remembers her instructions... smuggling the bottle out of the house, showing it off to the party-goers without letting them get their clumsy drunken fingers on it.
At the end of the night, he remembered adding water to try to cover for the loss. He thought it'd be months until he was found out, if ever-
Two weeks later, the bottle was in shards on the floor, aside from the neck of the bottle in his father's hand, and the little fragments that had cut through Rich's shirt when the bottle was busted on his back.
"Fuckin... worthless piece of shit. You had no idea, didya? No idea... you think you had me fooled? You really thought you were smart enough? You don't got the brains for that. Fuckin' idiot."
There are more shards on the floor now, but they're from the bottles on the shelf that Rich just swiped at like some feral cat playing tiger. The sound of them shattering isn't nearly as grating when he hits the second shelf.
It isn't too long until he's stomping on a chair until one of the legs snaps off, hitting other pieces of furniture to get bigger and bigger clubs, like he's leveling up in a really pointless video game.
When he's busted it up too much, he can just leave the room and jog around a bit before coming back to deal more damage. You'd think at this point he'd get tired, but he doesn't show any signs of stopping.]
WHERE: Balcony area above the pool, lounge, and Topy
WHAT: Rich ponders what he'll left behind and if it's better to not need to leave at all. After, unofficial Teen Party Part 2: Vandalism
WHEN: January 13th and 14th??? I don't know, time is meaningless
WARNINGS: Definitely heavy suicidal ideation for A and B, descriptions of abuse and alcoholism for C, destruction! If you are scared of angry teens, that may be a problem.
A. You still want love, love's ugly, smooth and delicate [Pool Balcony] [CW: Suicidal ideation]
[Rich probably should have developed an aversion to the pools already.
They were the most exposed areas on the ship, so he never liked them in the first place. The sun was too harsh on his burns, even if he lathered on sunscreen and wore the floppiest of hats the Tommy Bahama had to offer. He didn't really know how to swim either, so it's not like he had a reason to hang around here.
And then, well, there was that whole 'first death' thing, even if most of the memories surrounding it are fuzzy panic, sharp pain, and then... whatever you would call the minimal form of existence when he was in that void. Left with nothing but his thoughts and a general sense of being aware.
Maybe that's why he's ended up here again. It's early enough in the morning that he's barely cognizant of anything besides consciousness. Well, that and the growing pit of guilt in his stomach.
He climbs up to where the adult pool is, and approaches one of the balconies. He can see a good portion of the ship here, aside from the sports deck a little higher. He kind of wonders if there's a ladder or something to get up on the radio towers. Is that actually for a radio? Does it matter?
If there was a radio here, the Captain wouldn't let him use it. He's not smart enough to use that. He's not smart enough to do anything, really.
Before he knows it, he's up on the railing, crouched down so he can grab the rungs with his hands. He wobbles a bit, back and forth, back and forth... he shouldn't be up here. It's not stable, but yet he's testing himself anyways, letting go with one hand, then grabbing back on and trying the other hand. He looks down at the deck below, the stretch of beach chairs leading to the pool.
He wonders what would happen if he jumped and cracked his skull in the pool again. Or maybe went overboard entirely. Would he learn anything if he went that way?
...Of course not. He's useless. He hasn't accomplished anything here. Seeing the ring dangling on the chain from his neck and the frayed bracelet on his wrist... those are just anchors.
All he does is hold people back. He's been a burden to many and a relief to none. What kind of life is worth that?
He looks back behind him and smirks a bit when he sees someone approaching, as if he hasn't been sitting here contemplating his own death for what could have been hours.]
Hey. Dare me to make a cannonball?
B. But not without affection, you're not alone [Lounge] [CW: Suicidal ideation but a little less bad]
[It isn't a rare occurrence to see Rich caterwauling, but at least he tries to keep it to Bellona usually. For some reason, he isn't there today. Maybe he needed a change of scenery. Maybe he was too tired to trek all the way to the theatre from his cabin. Maybe he just wants someone to yell at him to shut up.
Whatever the reason, he's sitting at a couch, foot idly tapping along to an unheard beat as he sings softly along with the gentle chords.]
Don't try to wake me in the morning, 'cause I will be gone
Don't feel bad for me, I want you to know
Deep in the cell of my heart, I will feel so glad to go...
Heh. Cheesy as hell.
[Dimitri would probably still cry if he heard it. Darcy'd probably mock him though. Or fight him.
He wishes she'd at least fight him.]
C. Instead of wishing that it would get better, man, you're seeing that you just get angrier [Topy] [CW: Abuse, alcoholism]
[There's so much alcohol in here. The kind of fancy shit his dad would have drooled over. He probably had a bottle like this at the wedding or something. Maybe there were a couple bottles hidden in the back of the cupboard for special occasions. Or for whenever he had run out of beer.
He has a dim memory from a few years back... one of Jake's parties. One of the first ones he'd gone to, and the SQUIP was insistent on him making a good impression. He remembers her instructions... smuggling the bottle out of the house, showing it off to the party-goers without letting them get their clumsy drunken fingers on it.
At the end of the night, he remembered adding water to try to cover for the loss. He thought it'd be months until he was found out, if ever-
Two weeks later, the bottle was in shards on the floor, aside from the neck of the bottle in his father's hand, and the little fragments that had cut through Rich's shirt when the bottle was busted on his back.
"Fuckin... worthless piece of shit. You had no idea, didya? No idea... you think you had me fooled? You really thought you were smart enough? You don't got the brains for that. Fuckin' idiot."
There are more shards on the floor now, but they're from the bottles on the shelf that Rich just swiped at like some feral cat playing tiger. The sound of them shattering isn't nearly as grating when he hits the second shelf.
It isn't too long until he's stomping on a chair until one of the legs snaps off, hitting other pieces of furniture to get bigger and bigger clubs, like he's leveling up in a really pointless video game.
When he's busted it up too much, he can just leave the room and jog around a bit before coming back to deal more damage. You'd think at this point he'd get tired, but he doesn't show any signs of stopping.]