Wayne (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ablativeholopleather) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
come_sailaway2023-05-12 02:22 pm
ablativeholopleather) wrote in come_sailaway2023-05-12 02:22 pm
[Semi-Open] DYWTYLM
Who: Wayne and CR
What: Trying to cope with the changes around here
When: Any time after leaving The Tube Room
Where: Throughout the ship
Warnings: Depression and existential ennui
Do you duck into deep blue safety? (All CR)
Wayne practically lives up on Deck Six, where he can get a decent amount of sun, soak in the hot tubs, or go and hide out down in the bottom of the pool when it doesn't seem as if anyone would notice or worry about him with everything else that's been happening in the aftermath. He keeps to where he can have an eye out on others coming and going when he's not down underwater. Which he is fairly often, likely to the chagrin of a few that know that he does this sometimes, regardless of whether or not they know he doesn't actually need to breathe. Nowadays at least he's got a relatively simple lifeline: A water-tight bag for his phone. It's not a perfect or permanent solution, but it's better than not having it at all. It means if someone wants to get ahold of him when he's down there, they can.
Someone may also simply spot him down there as they walk by, or do laps. His yellow kind of sticks out against the blue of the pool bottom.
Do you know what it is? (Close CR)
Wayne spends more time away from the rest of the ship now than he had in the months since his arrival. Call it depression, call it self-isolation, either way, the result is the same. He doesn't leave Cabin 144 for days at a time. At least he's clean, if a little bit cluttered, his bed remaining unmade most of the time and his cat figures still sitting on every available surface. There are even a couple of new ones, by now enough that he thinks perhaps he should label them.
For now, he simply exists on his own, sometimes plucking idle tunes without the need for an amplifier, other times simply dissociating in the familiar dimness of the cabin. He won't ignore anyone that comes to check in, but they may notice the light compression patches on his skin where he's leaned his head against the side of the couch or a wall for long periods.
Are you trying to live? (Wildcard)
Wayne looks lost, more often than not these days. He's been given a lot to think about recently, and all of it comes back to the sheer, crushing weight of the anxiety. It may have shifted in form, but it is very much something that he now lives with on a more present level. And now, other people know that it's a problem. Which in and of itself is a problem.
No matter where he ends up, be it the Lounge where he'll generally be curled up with a book from the library, or staring out of a window with the most dead-eyed expression, or at Sand Dollars or Stellar in the morning, Windjammer or Mikabo in the evening, or just up wherever there's a rail that he can sit beside, arms crossed atop it and eyes out on the not-so-infinite water.
It's getting harder to be (myself) (Closed, for Gil)
They needed to talk about things. He knows that. It's hard to think when he's not around the man, and he knows it's because of the attachment that he's long since given up on the idea of it being friendly or platonic. He's nervous, oh yes, but he also realizes that he can't just say that Gil is humoring him or playing along and letting him down as slowly and gently as possible. But he needs to know where they stand in the days following the head chamber, and the hourglass chamber that they'd awoken in. He needs to see him.
can I visit?
A message sent off late in the evening, when most everyone else seemed to be about to turn in. Nevermind that he's leaning against the wall opposite Gil's cabin door, wavering back and forth on whether to just invite himself in. In the end, he opts simply to wait.
I cannot hope to give you what I cannot give myself (Closed, for Crichton)
He'd promised to fix Crichton's shattered nose as soon as he had the material for it. Unfortunately, this had taken a few days thanks to the broken new system of restocking. Maybe not long at all in the grand scheme, but at least a couple of days longer than would have been preferable. But in the end, he's found what he needed: a cupcake, with pink frosting and plain white paper. He's already headed toward where he'd last spotted his friend, and doesn't actually think to take out his phone to warn the man that he's on his way. After all, he's got a cupcake! This is phenomenal news that needs to be delivered in person!
"Commander! Guess what!"
Smile back...at me...oh please... (Closed, for Helena)
He needed to sleep so badly, he had ended up passing out in his cabin before he could actually touch base with Helena again. He'd spent so long out of commission that it wasn't for another couple of days that he messaged her, already feeling guilty over the idea that he'd managed to worry her yet again.
remember when i was talking abt the cats in my cabin
and you talked about a larva
He's looking up at the pretty frosted crystal cat that represents her, now with her name written on its underside in marker.
What: Trying to cope with the changes around here
When: Any time after leaving The Tube Room
Where: Throughout the ship
Warnings: Depression and existential ennui
Do you duck into deep blue safety? (All CR)
Wayne practically lives up on Deck Six, where he can get a decent amount of sun, soak in the hot tubs, or go and hide out down in the bottom of the pool when it doesn't seem as if anyone would notice or worry about him with everything else that's been happening in the aftermath. He keeps to where he can have an eye out on others coming and going when he's not down underwater. Which he is fairly often, likely to the chagrin of a few that know that he does this sometimes, regardless of whether or not they know he doesn't actually need to breathe. Nowadays at least he's got a relatively simple lifeline: A water-tight bag for his phone. It's not a perfect or permanent solution, but it's better than not having it at all. It means if someone wants to get ahold of him when he's down there, they can.
Someone may also simply spot him down there as they walk by, or do laps. His yellow kind of sticks out against the blue of the pool bottom.
Do you know what it is? (Close CR)
Wayne spends more time away from the rest of the ship now than he had in the months since his arrival. Call it depression, call it self-isolation, either way, the result is the same. He doesn't leave Cabin 144 for days at a time. At least he's clean, if a little bit cluttered, his bed remaining unmade most of the time and his cat figures still sitting on every available surface. There are even a couple of new ones, by now enough that he thinks perhaps he should label them.
For now, he simply exists on his own, sometimes plucking idle tunes without the need for an amplifier, other times simply dissociating in the familiar dimness of the cabin. He won't ignore anyone that comes to check in, but they may notice the light compression patches on his skin where he's leaned his head against the side of the couch or a wall for long periods.
Are you trying to live? (Wildcard)
Wayne looks lost, more often than not these days. He's been given a lot to think about recently, and all of it comes back to the sheer, crushing weight of the anxiety. It may have shifted in form, but it is very much something that he now lives with on a more present level. And now, other people know that it's a problem. Which in and of itself is a problem.
No matter where he ends up, be it the Lounge where he'll generally be curled up with a book from the library, or staring out of a window with the most dead-eyed expression, or at Sand Dollars or Stellar in the morning, Windjammer or Mikabo in the evening, or just up wherever there's a rail that he can sit beside, arms crossed atop it and eyes out on the not-so-infinite water.
It's getting harder to be (myself) (Closed, for Gil)
They needed to talk about things. He knows that. It's hard to think when he's not around the man, and he knows it's because of the attachment that he's long since given up on the idea of it being friendly or platonic. He's nervous, oh yes, but he also realizes that he can't just say that Gil is humoring him or playing along and letting him down as slowly and gently as possible. But he needs to know where they stand in the days following the head chamber, and the hourglass chamber that they'd awoken in. He needs to see him.
can I visit?
A message sent off late in the evening, when most everyone else seemed to be about to turn in. Nevermind that he's leaning against the wall opposite Gil's cabin door, wavering back and forth on whether to just invite himself in. In the end, he opts simply to wait.
I cannot hope to give you what I cannot give myself (Closed, for Crichton)
He'd promised to fix Crichton's shattered nose as soon as he had the material for it. Unfortunately, this had taken a few days thanks to the broken new system of restocking. Maybe not long at all in the grand scheme, but at least a couple of days longer than would have been preferable. But in the end, he's found what he needed: a cupcake, with pink frosting and plain white paper. He's already headed toward where he'd last spotted his friend, and doesn't actually think to take out his phone to warn the man that he's on his way. After all, he's got a cupcake! This is phenomenal news that needs to be delivered in person!
"Commander! Guess what!"
Smile back...at me...oh please... (Closed, for Helena)
He needed to sleep so badly, he had ended up passing out in his cabin before he could actually touch base with Helena again. He'd spent so long out of commission that it wasn't for another couple of days that he messaged her, already feeling guilty over the idea that he'd managed to worry her yet again.
remember when i was talking abt the cats in my cabin
and you talked about a larva
He's looking up at the pretty frosted crystal cat that represents her, now with her name written on its underside in marker.
no subject
By the time he's returned, she's lowered herself to laying down. Not under the covers, that would presume too much, but she's at least taken off her shoes for the time being.
no subject
"Want me to get you anything else? Or I can let you sleep it off," he offers, figuring that the path of least resistance would be to simply let her be until she wanted to move again.
no subject
The question's soft, but she still takes the washcloth if he'll offer it, will still try and clean her face. The redness from the tears in her eyes won't quickly leave, but she at least doesn't have to feel gross over it.
And right now, if she's to be honest, she needs him there. To sleep feeling like this, alone...it's inviting every nightmare in.
no subject
When she speaks up again, he smiles faintly, shuffling about the room as he changes into a clean shirt, a tank top like those that Gil prefers. He sits back down beside her when that's done.
"Of course."
no subject
"Wayne...thank you."
Words said to drown out the apology she wants to give for falling to pieces, to express what truly matters. Her own self consciousness can't override the fact that he needs to know how much it means, that she's grateful he'd hold onto her like she did him, so their flesh might remain on their bones.
She's still awake when she shuts her eyes, for a while longer. It'll take a little bit before her body lets that last part of guard go, to lay it down and rest like she dearly wishes to.
no subject
When she speaks up again, he blinks out of his quiet dissociation and looks back at her, taking the hand that's searching around for something to hold and doing just that. He runs his thumb across her knuckle, and lets their hands rest atop his knee. That will be where he stays, perched there at her side, until she falls asleep. Then when that happens he'll move enough to lay down beside her, always maintaining some point of contact with her so that she might feel safe enough to let herself sleep a while.
Just, going to send his roommate a message so that Bastion's not confused about seeing the two of them crashed out on their bed.
no subject
When she wakes, it's slow, and she doesn't stir too much - why wake him, if he's not up? Better to lie there and let their bodies recover instead of cutting anything too short. Besides, he feels like the cool side of the pillow, and it's comforting.