Ava Starr (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
decohere) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
come_sailaway2022-09-21 04:07 am
decohere) wrote in come_sailaway2022-09-21 04:07 am
well they said she died easy of a broken heart disease
Who: Ava & OTA
What: Not doing so great! And an attempted memorial
When: Post-Excursion
Where: room 114, the literal walls, buffet, gym shower, cafe, the promenade
Warnings: these are not fun prompts. loss, self loathing and failing struggle with depression are very strong themes.
i. room 114.
The mission was a success. With no actual contribution on Ava's part and a growing list of mistakes she's neatly compiled in her thoughts, waiting to unravel for whenever Skulduggery finally tracks her down. And she dreads it, knows well enough how these things go.
It was her choice, Skulduggery was quite right. Her choice to sideline herself and pretend she wasn't even there because she couldn't handle dealing with a small group. Of people that already didn't like her, and any minor progress she made with Darcy she's sure has been entirely undone, confirming that she was right all along to treat her so poorly. It would have been a struggle on a good day, but after isolating herself for the last few weeks... God, she was wrong to think she'd be ready.
She should have bowed out before it even began, but her wellbeing was never a priority, not with so much on the line. And it had been all she had to look forward to, the only small scrap of hope that she might be able to help out. Prove to Skulduggery and the others she wasn't a complete deadweight. Prove Izzy wrong that no crew would ever want her. Reestablish that maybe there was a purpose to her continued existence and allow her to recover.
And then it all went from bad to worse with the series of curses, with Maximilien the only one caring to go after her as she took off running as madness infected her already weak mind. And he shouldn't have. She compromised them both, and then ordered him around because in her panic she had no idea how else to get him to follow, and she hates herself for it. And he must hate her now too, because he stormed off and she hasn't heard from him since.
The mission was a success with the added bonus of reuniting Friday with her girlfriend, even under such circumstances. She half expects the ship to be torn apart in a storm any moment, and can't will herself to care. She thought Jenny was valid the first time she attacked. She feels so even more now that her freedom has been stripped of her once more. But there had been mention knowing where her brothers were, and so she hopes. Hopes for Jenny's sake that it's true.
The mission was a success, and Ava's at critical failure. Huddled under her bed ever since she got dumped back at her room. Still in her stealth suit, gripping the katana that she had salvaged from Malcolm's room in trembling hands as her last line of comfort. Unaware of how much time has passed, unaware of her need to eat, never quite managing more than a fitful hour of sleep.
And that's where she'll remain until somebody convinces her otherwise.
ii. the walls.
And then she'll sneak off to fun new hiding spots, places she thinks nobody will be able to look for her, if anyone bothers at all. The advantage of being able to phase is finding nice cozy spaces between the walls, between the floor and the ceiling below it. Ava feels rather considerate of this as well, taking her misery somewhere far more private and out of the way while everyone else continues happily on. Her depression cruelly and completely crippling her ability to reach out for the help she so desperately needs and knows she doesn't deserve.
She's doing her very best to wait out her soul finally fading away with the rest of her, because that's what happens to the weak. And Ava knows that's what she is, despite all her attempts to tell people otherwise.
But somebody passing might hear the stifled crying from the walls, or catch a knee poking out from the ceiling. What first seemed like a great idea turns out to be a bit more cramped and uncomfortable than she was counting on. Try as she might, she can't quite get herself to join the rest of the ship ghosts. It feels very unfair.
At some point, she hears somebody walking far too loudly on the floor she's hiding within, and she reaches out to grab an ankle, phase claws and all.
iii. buffet.
Eventually she does get hungry enough that she can't ignore it anymore, a dizzy sort of sway as she stares blankly at the buffet. Despite the familiar variety, absolutely nothing looks good. She picks at a few packets of crackers and sits right there on the floor, removing her face mask that she's worn for far too long now leaving the skin under it in rough condition. She takes a couple disinterested bites, and then crumbles the rest in her fist. The crumbs get all over her already dirtied suit. With her mask off, she can tell just how bad she smells. That manages to ruin the rest of her desire to eat.
iv. gym.
She hits up the gym showers. She can't get her fingers through her hair, matted from being stuck under her hood for so long. She can't work up enough energy to feel upset about it, instead sits on the floor and watches the water drain.
v. sand dollars.
Grabbing her notebook from its hiding place in her room, Ava takes it with her to the coffee shop, finally dressed in something other than her stealth suit. A plain t-shirt and a pair of camp shorts that fit far looser than months ago. With a pair of scissors, she begins cutting the pages into smaller and smaller pieces, destroying all the notes she'd taken on the Captain and the mystery of the ship and all the things she's decided aren't important. She stops once she gets to the pages of the names of the vanished passengers, her throat constricting.
She never decided what to do about it, but it was a responsibility she took on. Ava sips uneasily at her mint tea, ignoring the small bits of paper that have fallen into it. They're scattered all over the table around her, some having drifted to the floor.
vi. the promenade.
Only a handful of people helped her with her project of collecting names earlier that month, and Ava does her best to fill in as many as she can with her limited interactions. Sarge and Wanda and Natasha and Peter... all from her own world. Eleanor, who helped her with the laundry, and her brother Luke. Kore, she'd been told about. Claudia, her late night company when so few others were up and about. Reigen who hosted that first information sharing meeting who called her out for snooping, who helped her toss the casino coins overboard. Dean, who all she knows about was that he was hot, and something about Diana's opinion on his hair. Flynn, Fio's roommate who had talked down Jenny, only to be replaced by somebody who looked so similar. That she kicked out of the camp cabin, and never got to apologize to. Conner, her first roommate that she had immediately chased off and never had a chance to apologize to. Lucy, who she killed by phasing into a tree during the Battle Royale. And never had a chance to apologize to. Conan (that she doesn't realize has returned.) Ginko, who had been so calming and kind. Lucas, who she was annoyed about when she found out Malcolm had another roommate.
And Malcolm. The only person she's ever allowed so close, that made her feel like she mattered and could be better. Who dedicated his life to getting justice for the dead. She feels guilty she can't think of more, knows there's so many others she's missing.
Lucius had left her art supplies awhile back. So she writes out each of their names in red paint along the floor of the promenade, leaves flowers she's made out of paper under each. She's sure it'll be cleaned up soon enough, but maybe if she keeps watch... There's more paint, for anyone that wants to contribute. As Ava continues quietly folding flowers at one of the tables.
What: Not doing so great! And an attempted memorial
When: Post-Excursion
Where: room 114, the literal walls, buffet, gym shower, cafe, the promenade
Warnings: these are not fun prompts. loss, self loathing and failing struggle with depression are very strong themes.
i. room 114.
The mission was a success. With no actual contribution on Ava's part and a growing list of mistakes she's neatly compiled in her thoughts, waiting to unravel for whenever Skulduggery finally tracks her down. And she dreads it, knows well enough how these things go.
It was her choice, Skulduggery was quite right. Her choice to sideline herself and pretend she wasn't even there because she couldn't handle dealing with a small group. Of people that already didn't like her, and any minor progress she made with Darcy she's sure has been entirely undone, confirming that she was right all along to treat her so poorly. It would have been a struggle on a good day, but after isolating herself for the last few weeks... God, she was wrong to think she'd be ready.
She should have bowed out before it even began, but her wellbeing was never a priority, not with so much on the line. And it had been all she had to look forward to, the only small scrap of hope that she might be able to help out. Prove to Skulduggery and the others she wasn't a complete deadweight. Prove Izzy wrong that no crew would ever want her. Reestablish that maybe there was a purpose to her continued existence and allow her to recover.
And then it all went from bad to worse with the series of curses, with Maximilien the only one caring to go after her as she took off running as madness infected her already weak mind. And he shouldn't have. She compromised them both, and then ordered him around because in her panic she had no idea how else to get him to follow, and she hates herself for it. And he must hate her now too, because he stormed off and she hasn't heard from him since.
The mission was a success with the added bonus of reuniting Friday with her girlfriend, even under such circumstances. She half expects the ship to be torn apart in a storm any moment, and can't will herself to care. She thought Jenny was valid the first time she attacked. She feels so even more now that her freedom has been stripped of her once more. But there had been mention knowing where her brothers were, and so she hopes. Hopes for Jenny's sake that it's true.
The mission was a success, and Ava's at critical failure. Huddled under her bed ever since she got dumped back at her room. Still in her stealth suit, gripping the katana that she had salvaged from Malcolm's room in trembling hands as her last line of comfort. Unaware of how much time has passed, unaware of her need to eat, never quite managing more than a fitful hour of sleep.
And that's where she'll remain until somebody convinces her otherwise.
ii. the walls.
And then she'll sneak off to fun new hiding spots, places she thinks nobody will be able to look for her, if anyone bothers at all. The advantage of being able to phase is finding nice cozy spaces between the walls, between the floor and the ceiling below it. Ava feels rather considerate of this as well, taking her misery somewhere far more private and out of the way while everyone else continues happily on. Her depression cruelly and completely crippling her ability to reach out for the help she so desperately needs and knows she doesn't deserve.
She's doing her very best to wait out her soul finally fading away with the rest of her, because that's what happens to the weak. And Ava knows that's what she is, despite all her attempts to tell people otherwise.
But somebody passing might hear the stifled crying from the walls, or catch a knee poking out from the ceiling. What first seemed like a great idea turns out to be a bit more cramped and uncomfortable than she was counting on. Try as she might, she can't quite get herself to join the rest of the ship ghosts. It feels very unfair.
At some point, she hears somebody walking far too loudly on the floor she's hiding within, and she reaches out to grab an ankle, phase claws and all.
iii. buffet.
Eventually she does get hungry enough that she can't ignore it anymore, a dizzy sort of sway as she stares blankly at the buffet. Despite the familiar variety, absolutely nothing looks good. She picks at a few packets of crackers and sits right there on the floor, removing her face mask that she's worn for far too long now leaving the skin under it in rough condition. She takes a couple disinterested bites, and then crumbles the rest in her fist. The crumbs get all over her already dirtied suit. With her mask off, she can tell just how bad she smells. That manages to ruin the rest of her desire to eat.
iv. gym.
She hits up the gym showers. She can't get her fingers through her hair, matted from being stuck under her hood for so long. She can't work up enough energy to feel upset about it, instead sits on the floor and watches the water drain.
v. sand dollars.
Grabbing her notebook from its hiding place in her room, Ava takes it with her to the coffee shop, finally dressed in something other than her stealth suit. A plain t-shirt and a pair of camp shorts that fit far looser than months ago. With a pair of scissors, she begins cutting the pages into smaller and smaller pieces, destroying all the notes she'd taken on the Captain and the mystery of the ship and all the things she's decided aren't important. She stops once she gets to the pages of the names of the vanished passengers, her throat constricting.
She never decided what to do about it, but it was a responsibility she took on. Ava sips uneasily at her mint tea, ignoring the small bits of paper that have fallen into it. They're scattered all over the table around her, some having drifted to the floor.
vi. the promenade.
Only a handful of people helped her with her project of collecting names earlier that month, and Ava does her best to fill in as many as she can with her limited interactions. Sarge and Wanda and Natasha and Peter... all from her own world. Eleanor, who helped her with the laundry, and her brother Luke. Kore, she'd been told about. Claudia, her late night company when so few others were up and about. Reigen who hosted that first information sharing meeting who called her out for snooping, who helped her toss the casino coins overboard. Dean, who all she knows about was that he was hot, and something about Diana's opinion on his hair. Flynn, Fio's roommate who had talked down Jenny, only to be replaced by somebody who looked so similar. That she kicked out of the camp cabin, and never got to apologize to. Conner, her first roommate that she had immediately chased off and never had a chance to apologize to. Lucy, who she killed by phasing into a tree during the Battle Royale. And never had a chance to apologize to. Conan (that she doesn't realize has returned.) Ginko, who had been so calming and kind. Lucas, who she was annoyed about when she found out Malcolm had another roommate.
And Malcolm. The only person she's ever allowed so close, that made her feel like she mattered and could be better. Who dedicated his life to getting justice for the dead. She feels guilty she can't think of more, knows there's so many others she's missing.
Lucius had left her art supplies awhile back. So she writes out each of their names in red paint along the floor of the promenade, leaves flowers she's made out of paper under each. She's sure it'll be cleaned up soon enough, but maybe if she keeps watch... There's more paint, for anyone that wants to contribute. As Ava continues quietly folding flowers at one of the tables.
no subject
He sinks a little more, committing to sitting fully on the floor next to her, and manages to keep the plate more or less in plate as he makes the shift.
"Found myself in a similar spot, where I'm from." Jack says.
He gave her a summary of it the first time he talked, but not his whole life story. And he won't be doing it now, either, though he struggles to find how much he's willing to let out.
"Just... absolute bottom of it all. Didn't feel like there was even a point to trying to leave." A beat, and Jack adds, "I mean, literally, physically yeah, but also, the uh, the other part."
Y'know, feelings and stuff.
no subject
"How'd you get through it?" Ava asks. She knows she's not alone in facing difficulties, in loss of loved ones and loss of hope. Everyone she's talked to seems to have some version of their own traumatic backstory. Yet sometimes she feels like the only one that used it to justify her own slip into villainy. And god, she feels herself teetering on that edge again.
She shoves the tot into her mouth instead.
no subject
Jack can't deny that seeing the Little Sisters to safety and getting them and Tenenbaum a way out helped him pick up his feet, but it was keeping himself moving just to inconvenience everyone wanting him dead that got him there.
And, uh, Ava might not have a gaggle of innocent children to motivate her either, so that seems more relatable anyway.
He sighs softly, shrugging.
"I just dragged myself forward, because if nothing mattered then it's not like that would change things either, and moving kept me away from anyone who wanted to cut in. And if it pissed any of the people who put me there off, even better."
And there's a moment where he waffles on saying more, before he does: "Besides, there's a lot you can do when you have nothing to lose."
Jack is not talking about picking up a hobby, and yeah this is still based on experience and yeah it was a terrible idea. But it was more fun to act out than to stew in existential depression!
no subject
She might not have a gaggle, but she does have one child in particular that she's doing her best to look out for. Fio. But like this, she knows she's not doing the girl any good.
"Spite is a powerful motivator," she repeats the saying she's heard plenty before. "But I don't even know who to be mad at anymore."
no subject
It's hard to really quantify more than that. Jack had some actual targets, yeah, but once he had made the push from depression to anger, it was pretty easy to find something to do, especially when 'something' was violent.
He sighs a little at himself, and looks at the plate to pick something off of- oh, that's right, he made his own plate. He turns his head to try to look at the part of the table he put it on, but it's still out of reach and, uh, his telekinesis is not that precise.
"Hey, uh. Do you feel up to chairs yet?" Jack asks.
Although honestly, if she's not, he'll just hand the plate over to her and bring his own down here. The floor's clean, at least, and from what he's heard you probably could eat off it.
no subject
She follows his gaze at his question, to the table and the plate of food she can just make out from this angle. She rubs at her eyes tiredly, still waiting for her vision to fully adjust back after relying on the red-tinted lenses for several days.
"Sure. Ugh. Just..." normally she has no problem getting up on her own, but the lack of energy makes pushing up off the floor a bit more of a challenge.
I am getting a surprising amount of mileage from this dumb icon
no subject
Followed by a 'thank you' as she wavers a bit on her feet, waiting a moment for her balance to stabilize with the rest of her. Yeah, she could really use a chair.
no subject
Well, that's interesting, and might be neat to hear more of later (although, really, 'goes through things' probably covers the important bases right?), but for now he just acts as a sturdy post, and then as a, uh, personal waiter?
Or - look, he grabs his plate off the buffet table and with the snack plate in the other hand, he goes to the nearest table and sets them down.
It's just wobbliness from being down and moping for awhile, Jack's been through that enough to know he shouldn't hover.
He still pulls a chair out for her to drop onto, though.
no subject
"Sorry," she feels the need to get out, because he's being far more helpful than she expects. Especially when they barely know each other, only spoken the once. "I've... had a bad... week. Month." Life. One that taught her that her pain and problems were best kept to herself. She feels guilty, but also grateful.
She goes back to picking at the the plate of food. "You...'ve been well?"
no subject
Maybe they only had the one face-to-face conversation, but Jack's seen her here and there since. Sometimes directly, like when he spots her with Fio at the buffet some evenings, and sometimes a glimpse here or there. He's not sure what exactly it is Ava can do - or honestly, if every moment he caught really was her, or just his imagination - but there were splicers back in Rapture who could disappear and reappear, turning invisible or something else, and he picked up a few tricks to keep track of them. So, it's not like she's a complete stranger.
Plus, it wasn't a bad single conversation they had.
Jack takes the other seat and busies himself with unrolling the cutlery set out.
"Pretty good." he admits. "I think I'm finally getting the hang of living normally - well, for what counts for that, here."
no subject
She watches Jack unroll the silverware from the napkin and pokes at the chunks of food with her fingers, before reaching across the table to steal the fork away.
She feels slightly more dignified as she spears a chunk of melon with it, glancing up as she nibbles at it, expression unchanging from her tired haze.
"Hm," Ava responds, because she's not sure how else to. "Adapt or die, right."
no subject
He snorts at her comment, smirking a bit as he answers.
"Sort of the opposite. Adapting to not-dying."
He mentioned that in their first conversation, right? At least, the city trying to kill him part.