Deputy Pratt (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
theweakhavepurpose) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
come_sailaway2022-10-13 09:32 pm
theweakhavepurpose) wrote in come_sailaway2022-10-13 09:32 pm
Entry tags:
Are you on the square? Are you on the level?
Who: Deputy Pratt & You
What: A reckoning is upon you (He's storming the halls looking for Sharky)
Where: Everywhere!
When: Mid-October
Warnings: Violence. Cult stuff. Cannibalism. Skinning. Gore. The standard Pratt warning buffet.
Notes: Bracket or prose, live your truth.
1. The World Is Weak - Laundry Room
It's already been well established that the best place to have a breakdown on the ship is in the Laundry Room, so that's where Pratt is. Though he's not crying, he's not yelling or throwing things or freaking out over a jacket like last time. No, he's pacing. Back and forth and back and forth, again and again while staring at the ground. He has his arms folded, clutching across his chest, which is an awkward position while walking but he doesn't move them.
He doesn't know what to do. Well, he knows what he wants to do, but he also knows that he is the master of terrible decisions so maybe he should think about it?
Back and forth. Back and forth.
Enjoying yourself?
"Shut the fuck up."
2. Eviction Notice - Decks
When Deputy Pratt leaves his room in the morning, he's wearing his full uniform, his belt jangling with every step, along with the dog tags around his neck. Idly he trails his fingers along the wall as he goes, dragging through some of those bloody notes left on doors without even seeming to react to it.
"Sharky! Shaaaaarkkkkyyyy..."
For all that people have seen him sobbing into mashed potatoes, enjoying himself in the arcade, or just generally being a morose but kind of endearing dork, there's another side to him that even Clarke hasn't seen. The last time he was walking like this he was losing himself to the conditioning and barely knew what he was doing. This is different. Pratt is in absolute control of himself and that is so much worse.
"It's been a day and we had a deal. A pact even." Pratt normally sounds like a raven with laryngitis, but right now his voice is so low and controlled when he talks that it could probably be used to grind glass. If it's not obvious Pratt is pissed. He's fucking furious. And that cold fury is being bottled up, saving it for later, for when he needs to act.
"It's okay, you can come out. We just need to talk. We're going to have a little chat. That's all."
He gets to the end of the hall of cabins, blood trailing from his fingers across all the doors from the loving notes left to Ebalon. He reaches up to his forehead, using the blood to draw a cross down his nose and across his forehead.
"Did you think you were finally free?"
This is probably fine.
What: A reckoning is upon you (He's storming the halls looking for Sharky)
Where: Everywhere!
When: Mid-October
Warnings: Violence. Cult stuff. Cannibalism. Skinning. Gore. The standard Pratt warning buffet.
Notes: Bracket or prose, live your truth.
1. The World Is Weak - Laundry Room
It's already been well established that the best place to have a breakdown on the ship is in the Laundry Room, so that's where Pratt is. Though he's not crying, he's not yelling or throwing things or freaking out over a jacket like last time. No, he's pacing. Back and forth and back and forth, again and again while staring at the ground. He has his arms folded, clutching across his chest, which is an awkward position while walking but he doesn't move them.
He doesn't know what to do. Well, he knows what he wants to do, but he also knows that he is the master of terrible decisions so maybe he should think about it?
Back and forth. Back and forth.
Enjoying yourself?
"Shut the fuck up."
2. Eviction Notice - Decks
When Deputy Pratt leaves his room in the morning, he's wearing his full uniform, his belt jangling with every step, along with the dog tags around his neck. Idly he trails his fingers along the wall as he goes, dragging through some of those bloody notes left on doors without even seeming to react to it.
"Sharky! Shaaaaarkkkkyyyy..."
For all that people have seen him sobbing into mashed potatoes, enjoying himself in the arcade, or just generally being a morose but kind of endearing dork, there's another side to him that even Clarke hasn't seen. The last time he was walking like this he was losing himself to the conditioning and barely knew what he was doing. This is different. Pratt is in absolute control of himself and that is so much worse.
"It's been a day and we had a deal. A pact even." Pratt normally sounds like a raven with laryngitis, but right now his voice is so low and controlled when he talks that it could probably be used to grind glass. If it's not obvious Pratt is pissed. He's fucking furious. And that cold fury is being bottled up, saving it for later, for when he needs to act.
"It's okay, you can come out. We just need to talk. We're going to have a little chat. That's all."
He gets to the end of the hall of cabins, blood trailing from his fingers across all the doors from the loving notes left to Ebalon. He reaches up to his forehead, using the blood to draw a cross down his nose and across his forehead.
"Did you think you were finally free?"
This is probably fine.
no subject
"Yeah have at man. I'm not gonna kill you, though I may kill that asshole if he comes back in here. Weird ass cultist probably collecting peoples' fingerbones." He snorts, ow, maybe shouldn't have done that either.
"You know what, we need a goddamn vacation man." He curls up on his side with his back to Jack, which is kind of stupid since he has no idea if this is actually Jack either, but he's so past caring about much of anything right now as he comes down from the complete adrenaline crash of trying to kill his best friend, having Ava phase a foot right through his torso, and well, crying a bit about Sharky. He's just gonna take a nap and hope Jack doesn't sleep electrocute him.
no subject
He nods, agreeing with whatever Pratt's saying about cultists - and then chuckles at that last comment, a rough and rusty kind of sound.
"Fuck, me too." Jack says, about their enforced time on a cruise ship, "Would love to get some drinks after this. Maybe another stop on a beach, just..."
Jack trails off, struggling to think of what the other end of this bullshit looks like. He doesn't let himself struggle for too long, though - too long and he'll rightfully question if there's an end to things getting worse, if he's got a front seat to whatever happened to Rapture this time, and fuck. He wants to sleep, not do that.
So he keeps his eyes closed, equally trusting Pratt not to try to sleep-stab him or whatever else he might try to do.