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
He blinks, but nods in something sort of understanding. "So like a subconscious thing."
no subject
"I wish I could show you, but I like...don't think I could now. Considering my lack of powers. And I don't think they'd work even if I had them. But yeah. Dad even taught me how to banish them...35 years and an unfortunate AU timeline later."
no subject
Hm. Not the most opportune time for a severe bout of melancholia to settle in.
"Lack of powers, lack of actual ghosts...Definitely not a useful skill in there here and now, at least at the moment. And if we keep coming back it's not like we're generating ghosts either, so, I guess, better for both of us that you don't have your thing and I don't have any soul sponges?"
no subject
They reach over and pat his arm awkwardly. "No. We're definitely not. It's probably for the best, yeah. I can't imagine what would come of seeing the ghosts if they're still here or anything. I feel like it would be really uncomfortable." A beat. "But if they wanted me to suffer greatly, they'd give me that power back and make it so I could only see them and not control them at -"
Klaus frowns. "I'm gonna stop that thought while I'm ahead."
no subject
He snorts quietly and puts a finger up, even as Klaus is already catching themself. "Don't you speak that into the world, you're gonna jinx us."
no subject
They sigh, flopping over on the bed slightly. "This is a tragedy, to be honest. Why am I so good at thinking up awful things? I think I just like to punish myself is what it is. Like I learned too much from Dad about how to make myself miserable."
no subject
Klaus flops, and Wayne turns to lean against the couch cushion that he's been leaving at the head of his bed as something to lean against when he wants to curl up. He pulls his knees up level with his chin and just slouches.
"I think you're probably conditioned toward it, yeah. Not enough good things to stay optimistic all the time, hope constantly in flux."
no subject
Klaus looks over at him quietly, letting out a sigh. "Yeah. I mean...yeah." That's very insightful. "I guess that's true enough. There's been a lot of people that really didn't like what they found in my memories. There's weirdly been more hope here. Which is a little weird to think about."
no subject
He can't really speak on the amount of hope here, though. Not when his own has been getting slowly drained out over time. He's starting to understand where some others were coming from now. He wouldn't rain on anyone else's parade over it, though. He could have those talks with Helena once in a while and leave it at that.
no subject
They know that not everyone is with them on the hope train. They can sort of guess that the lack of comment has as much meaning as commenting. "Back home," they say quietly after a moment. "I'm not sure I could ever really be sober. Or...well, I guess it's harder to be sober back home. Harder to stop leaning into bad habits. Like Ben sacrificed everything for Viktor, to keep the apocalypse from happening. He was the only one that really believed in me, you know? Here like...weirdly a lot of people believe in me. People like...don't immediately relegate me to look out cause they don't think I'm capable of doing something else." It's one of the weirder things to them.
"They have like...expectations and shit, which is actually frightening when you've cultivated an entire self image based on making people have zero expectations of you to avoid disappointing people for most of your life."
They glance over at Wayne, reaching out to lightly touch their shoulder. "They care about me in ways I didn't really have at home and...I know this place isn't like...great. Shit's awful most of the time. But I want you to know that despite that, the fact that you like...are you and you treat me like I'm somebody is important to me, you know? So no matter what, I'm gonna try to make it better for you. Even if I have to humiliate myself or like...do something I don't normally. Like. If you need anything, I hope you know you can ask."
A beat. "I love you. Just in case I don't say it."
no subject
"I wish I could be a better help with that. You have such a cool support system here though so I'll stick to figuring out the rest. I'm proud of you though, man. You told me about some of this way back when I first got here and you're sticking to it. You're doing awesome." He doesn't understand the cycle of addiction, but he knows how important Klaus' sobriety is to them, so he'd support that however he could as he is.
The smile he gives Klaus is tired, but genuine, and he rubs a hand across the back of their shoulders.
"I love you too. And I'm glad you came to check on me."
no subject
"Buddy, do you miss the fact that you're like...already part of it by being my friend?" They lean against him a little and let out a little sigh. "It's hard all the time, but having people that have expectations and like think I'm not shit is helping. Like it's awkward having people be proud of me, but I think that's like...living with people that weren't proud of me until waaaay later." Which was their own fault, but that's...just how it went.
"I'm glad, too. If I can ever help, I'm glad to be there. No matter what's going on, okay?"
no subject
Klaus used to go out of their way to make sure they were unreliable and therefore below notice. He could see where it made sense as a defense mechanism, but that didn't mean that the progress they made was any less worthy of notice and praise. If anything, it made it that much more impressive as they broke out of their own cycle.
"Yeah. You can always reach me if you need help, even if it's for something small."