[log] The Pit [open]

[snowblindmods]

Characters: Anyone participating in the Pit event.
Location: A room.
Date: Day 330
Summary: You wake up in a room.
Warnings: general warnings; potential for morbid/suicidal thoughts; note specific warnings in subject line, please!

Comments

[devoutish]

Then here's to not finding yourself any serious shit, mate. It can be difficult to avoid here.

[sleight_of_fate]

A lot of practice, I guess. And being a natural peace-keeper? Or trying to be.

[There's a rueful smile with that, though. He hasn't been as good at it as he used to be. He's getting bitter. And tired.]

Glad I could help, though. I'll keep an eye out for more, might have some other trades for you in the future, as soon as I figure out what I'm in the market for.

[devoutish]

Is that what you do then? Trade and gather, like us? You've also been involved with experiments, yeah?

[sleight_of_fate]

I'm just trying to do what's useful, mostly. Back home, I was a healer and hunter, but I don't have my usual abilities, here, so I've just been...

Trying to find what does some good, mainly. Some of my supernatural knowledge is useful here, some of it's waaaay off.

[He is the guy that got himself stabbed, after all.]

But supplies? Supplies are always useful. And I lived on the street for a long time, so I'm used to improvising.

[devoutish]

What else have you found? Anything useful?

[sleight_of_fate]

Mmm. A few knives and tools. Tape. Candles. Mostly things I'm using myself, but...

[He glances around furtively. He has a fireplace poker to defend himself, but he's still not going to advertise that he has stuff worth stealing.]

Cigarettes and condoms, too. I'm keeping at least a couple of the condoms for myself, but I don't smoke nicotine. Hoping to get some booze for those, or...I don't know. Something else useful.

[devoutish]

[Alfie arches an eyebrow, lowering his voice in kind.]

You've got use for condoms here?

[sleight_of_fate]

Well, I might be being overly optimistic.

[At least as far as their normal purpose is concerned. Though, hope springs eternal?]

But they can also be used to keep things dry, emergency rubber gloves for things you don't want to touch with your bare hands, or to carry water. They're always useful to have around.

[devoutish]

Put 'em on your feet. You'll want to keep them as dry as you can.

[sleight_of_fate]

Yeah. It's the wet that kills. I dry my boots and socks every night.

[He taps the ground with one of his black, oiled leather workboots. He actually was dressed for winter when he was taken, giving him a huge advantage here.]

...I was homeless for a few years before I wound up here. I guess it was good practice.

[He tugs at his cap. He's not that old, maybe around thirty, but there's weight in his eyes that reflects they're hard-lived years.]

That's where I picked up my medical skills. So it's a lot of patchwork. But it means I can take whatever I've got in my hands, and work under pressure.

[devoutish]

[He nods, understanding.]

I was a soldier. Never thought you'd need those skills in a place like this, did you.

[sleight_of_fate]

You know, I don't really know?

[He considers Alfie, and that little tug in his heart that makes him want to impress the man. Wants his approval. He pushes it down, but suddenly he feels very young again.]

It's good that it's useful, at least. That I wasn't completely lost when I got dumped here. But it's a hard way to do things.

I'm used to it, I've done it this way for a long time, but...I get tired. sometimes.

[devoutish]

That tiredness--

[He says it carefully, quietly, trying not to sound too tired himself.]

That tiredness, that's not gonna go away. It's gonna get worse. If you have not yet found things that make you feel just a bit less tired, you've got to make that a priority.

[sleight_of_fate]

[Rhys has to think a long few seconds on that, matching it up against what he already knows. What he's felt for a while now, quietly eating away at his reserves while he tries to put on a brave face.]

Yeah. I didn't...I mean, things weren't good at home. I don't have any reason to believe here should be any better, but it's not like there's a lot of choice, you know?

[devoutish]

Were things not good in the way things aren't good here, or in a different sort of way?

[sleight_of_fate]

[How much is he going to talk about it? A little, maybe. Not like there's anything else to do here.]

A lot of the same ways, actually.

I lost a lot of people back home. Made some mistakes, to the point where I wasn't welcome anymore. I left, tried to start over again, but it wasn't going too well.

[devoutish]

People can be lost and mistakes can be made anywhere. Is there anything specific that makes home like Norfinbury?

[sleight_of_fate]

[He shrugs,]

I hunted ghosts and talked to the dead at home, too. It was sort of a second job.

Other than that, I guess it's more like...I don't know, like it's as good a place as any?

[devoutish]

Look at the big picture. I'm not talking about what you do, I'm talking about what Norfinbury's like. You got tortured at home, did you? Got your senses fucked about with? Your memories?

I truly do not understand how this can be as good a place as any, mate, and you have been here long enough to know better.

[sleight_of_fate]

[Rhys gives Alfie a long look, feeling the weight of his weeks here versus what he's been through at home. He has been tortured at home, more than he likes to admit. Thrown himself against awful things and come away mangled, just because it seemed like the right thing to do. It's worse here, but not *different*.]

I don't know. I want out of here, I just don't have anything to go back to.

[He shouldn't have started this conversation. He has no idea what he's doing.]

Sorry. I haven't been sleeping.

[devoutish]

Your home was fucking terrible. Yeah, all right. I'm not gonna argue with you about that; I don't know what it was like. But if you don't see the bad in this place yet, mate--

[He cuts himself off, shaking his head almost violently.]

[sleight_of_fate]

[He feels like he's lost complete control of this conversation, and has no idea how to get it back on track.]

No, I do. Just. Maybe I can do more good here.

[He shrugs again, trying to crush down the nauseous feeling as he tugs at the bracelets around his wrists.]

[devoutish]

[Alfie relaxes, just a little.]

You're like Watson, then, are you?

[sleight_of_fate]

[He's sorry, Alfie.

And he's so much like Watson. With a whole bunch of guilt and past failure on top of it.]

...yeah. I guess I am.

Fixing things was what I was always good at. There's a lot to fix here, and the past doesn't matter so much. Makes it feel like it's a new start.

[devoutish]

Your head's fucked, mate.

[He taps a finger against his own temple.]

But you're in good company here.