sᴏʟᴅɪᴇʀ BLUE (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
firstroar) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ximilialog2022-05-24 04:32 pm
firstroar) wrote in ximilialog2022-05-24 04:32 pm
exhale [open]
CHARACTERS: Blue, any
LOCATION: infirmary, mess hall, sun room, Blue's dormitory
DATE: post-mission
CONTENT: downtime (+dream/memshare option)
WARNINGS: mention of terminal illness, medical treatments/needles
Disorienting moments blurred together in the chaos in and outside of himself, with the context left only to his physical senses and the alarming news coming in from the earpiece. Blue can only hold on and endure as the train is rocked, as the car he's trapped in slows to a crawl, as the noise keeps coming in over the signal...
Until he doesn't. Until his eyes have to wince to readjust to the reflective surfaces and glaring light of Ximilia, until he must shudder and brace against the feeling of his psionics flooding back to him, bringing forth the anguish, fury, confusion, and betrayal flooding the place as much as the bodies. It leaves Blue in something of a shock - one that's well and fine to be ignored, since hard focus on him would likely just rattle him more, and anyway, his own attention keeps getting forcibly redirected toward a fairly unified notion.
Newt.
Newt, monsters...the roiling, gnashing form that bit back when he reached out - is that? What happened? He doesn't know. He just sees Newton getting carried away while he and the rest are left to linger undirected.
The exhaustion creeps back in steadily, bringing with it the old awareness of a failing body that must work harder for less of what's necessary. He puts up no audible fuss about having to be ferried to the infirmary, about getting pinched yet again with needles for fluids that compensate for what he can't intake himself, but his insides are raging. Bodily, he aches. Mentally, he is caging lions: Frustration bubbles over in the face of how unfair it is that he had been given time and means to stand on his own two feet and move about as a hale body, only to have no means or power to do much more than rummage a few suitcases. This isn't how Soldier Blue could help. Why did he have to have his psionics taken away.
It's infuriating to ruminate on, and that fury, while muted externally, still informs the way his brow knits, the way he goes still and quiet, bracing against shuddering, aching waves of discomfort. Now and then, it makes simple objects near him rattle or lift off surfaces just barely when his psionics are up and lacking any other means to vent.
It's worse when those psionics are off, when he feels himself alone in his own mind - that's when he tries to gravitate toward populated spaces: The infirmary, the mess, the sun room...somewhere with familiar-seeming people in that unfamiliar-seeming state of mind. The frustration remains, but at this point, that's familiar, too.
In those spaces, at least, his focus can be pulled outside of himself and toward others, regardless of if their feelings of frustration resonate with his or not. Sometimes he wants to commiserate...and sometimes he wants to simply try and take care of the burdens of others, to feel as though he can leave some good behind despite the decay he's saddled with.
That orb never did respond. Nothing changed. Not for the better, anyway. What else...is he supposed to do? It can't be to just die quietly; he won't allow that.
Just as before, more and more time will be spent bedridden than he'd like. In sleep, should there still be hours left with his psionics active, his mind can be pulled out and toward others at rest, too, and he may find himself walking their dreams just as much as his own. The bleed over doesn't even have to be terribly seamless, since to a sleeping mind, anything and nothing can make sense anyway.
He's just...there, now. There, somewhere with someone, be it happy or sad.
LOCATION: infirmary, mess hall, sun room, Blue's dormitory
DATE: post-mission
CONTENT: downtime (+dream/memshare option)
WARNINGS: mention of terminal illness, medical treatments/needles
Disorienting moments blurred together in the chaos in and outside of himself, with the context left only to his physical senses and the alarming news coming in from the earpiece. Blue can only hold on and endure as the train is rocked, as the car he's trapped in slows to a crawl, as the noise keeps coming in over the signal...
Until he doesn't. Until his eyes have to wince to readjust to the reflective surfaces and glaring light of Ximilia, until he must shudder and brace against the feeling of his psionics flooding back to him, bringing forth the anguish, fury, confusion, and betrayal flooding the place as much as the bodies. It leaves Blue in something of a shock - one that's well and fine to be ignored, since hard focus on him would likely just rattle him more, and anyway, his own attention keeps getting forcibly redirected toward a fairly unified notion.
Newt.
Newt, monsters...the roiling, gnashing form that bit back when he reached out - is that? What happened? He doesn't know. He just sees Newton getting carried away while he and the rest are left to linger undirected.
The exhaustion creeps back in steadily, bringing with it the old awareness of a failing body that must work harder for less of what's necessary. He puts up no audible fuss about having to be ferried to the infirmary, about getting pinched yet again with needles for fluids that compensate for what he can't intake himself, but his insides are raging. Bodily, he aches. Mentally, he is caging lions: Frustration bubbles over in the face of how unfair it is that he had been given time and means to stand on his own two feet and move about as a hale body, only to have no means or power to do much more than rummage a few suitcases. This isn't how Soldier Blue could help. Why did he have to have his psionics taken away.
It's infuriating to ruminate on, and that fury, while muted externally, still informs the way his brow knits, the way he goes still and quiet, bracing against shuddering, aching waves of discomfort. Now and then, it makes simple objects near him rattle or lift off surfaces just barely when his psionics are up and lacking any other means to vent.
It's worse when those psionics are off, when he feels himself alone in his own mind - that's when he tries to gravitate toward populated spaces: The infirmary, the mess, the sun room...somewhere with familiar-seeming people in that unfamiliar-seeming state of mind. The frustration remains, but at this point, that's familiar, too.
In those spaces, at least, his focus can be pulled outside of himself and toward others, regardless of if their feelings of frustration resonate with his or not. Sometimes he wants to commiserate...and sometimes he wants to simply try and take care of the burdens of others, to feel as though he can leave some good behind despite the decay he's saddled with.
That orb never did respond. Nothing changed. Not for the better, anyway. What else...is he supposed to do? It can't be to just die quietly; he won't allow that.
Just as before, more and more time will be spent bedridden than he'd like. In sleep, should there still be hours left with his psionics active, his mind can be pulled out and toward others at rest, too, and he may find himself walking their dreams just as much as his own. The bleed over doesn't even have to be terribly seamless, since to a sleeping mind, anything and nothing can make sense anyway.
He's just...there, now. There, somewhere with someone, be it happy or sad.
no subject
It would be nice... Either way... I realized...this pain... It's not a punishment. [he opens his eyes, trying to perceive some of Yzak without moving much. he brings his hands up and rests them on Yzak's wrists.]
It's...part of this. Fighting and clawing and scraping...for the chance to have quiet, good moments... It's...human, isn't it. Everyone's fighting...for their own happiness, too...
So no matter how frustrating...how infuriating it is... It's proof of living...
[amused:] Bitter consolation, hmh...?
no subject
And, one would think the combining both of their similar-and-yet-different storms wouldn't feel so great. But there is a consolation there in hearing and taking on some of Blue's pains, sharing them with him though unable to do much beyond that. But it's enough to lift a small weight within Yzak and slightly eases his own troubles. He's grateful that he's shared this with him. Because this is what he wants as his partner, the painful as much as the good.
When Blue rests his hands over his wrists, it prompts him to tighten his hold around him. An easy action to take to envelope his thin frame in his arms. He tucks his chin in to bury the bottom half of his face into the crook of Blue's neck. He'll feel Yzak's mouth twitch a little against his skin at that last remark. Bitter consolation, huh... ]
You're right about that.
All of it.
[ Even so, Yzak doesn't quite enjoy how much more Blue has to claw and scrape for even the simplest things. But that he looks at it the way he does ... it's admirable, a strength of spirit that reminds Yzak of why he loves him so much. ]
And I'll keep fighting for that. Not just my own happiness, but yours, too. And anything it entails, because yours is as much my own.
no subject
It's what soldiers do. [fight on.] It's what...people do. [fight on for their happiness.
there's no getting away from the anguish of circumstance - not without true ignorance and denial - but Blue's finding it easier to hold tight to these better moments in spite of it. if he didn't, it'd be nothing but anguish! so he kisses Yzak's hair and holds onto this moment for a little while longer, until it's time to start the climb out, to dry off and get warm, fresh clothes on, and find his way back into Yzak's arms again.]
no subject
And once they're done, there's the smallest bit of apprehension because this has been ... nice, comforting, intimate and warm. But alas the water will eventually lose that warmth and that won't feel good at all. So helping Blue back out of the tub - something more familiar after the time he had helped him from his own shower - Yzak hands him that offered sleepwear again.
The soft, silky pink fabric is absolutely a bit too big for Blue once he gets it on, but it's... it's cute to see him wearing something of his. And he can't help but stare at him with a dazed sort of endearment. Why is Yzak suddenly realizing that tropes he would once scoff at are actually pretty neat? ]
no subject
still...]
I hope...you find your way into my dreams. [he snuggles close before fidgeting to get properly comfortable.
despite the cute at-hand:] ...So you can have your way with me. Like you were thinking. Earlier. [exhausted? yes. shameless? always.]
no subject
All of said mellow disappears in an instant, though, when Blue finishes that thought. He goes bright red, choking on his words. ]
Y-you had to bring that up!? Bastard... [ (affectionate) As if he's actually upset about the idea in any way. ]
no subject
no subject
His tone is going higher. ]
I - I did!
And I appreciate it!
no subject
he sighs loudly, eyes too heavy to keep open, already losing the fight to sleep. it's inevitable: muscles relaxed by water, cozy clothes, a secure and loving person to snuggle...he's out pretty damn quickly despite the tormenting he'd just gotten up to.]
no subject
Says the guy who can just say something like that and immediately fall asleep...!
[ Whispered after the fact, when Blue is out. How is Yzak expected to fall asleep after that kind of teasing!? Fuckin rude, tbh.
... and yet, here he is still. Arm draped over Blue and keeping him close and warm and bundled up, absolutely smitten. ]