Karrie (Vandal) Norton (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
vandalization) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
re_alignment_logs2012-12-16 07:07 pm
vandalization) wrote in re_alignment_logs2012-12-16 07:07 pm
Entry tags:
- !open,
- brave police: j-decker | kagerou,
- tf: g1 | thundercracker,
- tf: idw | drift,
- tf: idw | perceptor,
- tf: idw | wing,
- ✘ ace attorney | kay faraday,
- ✘ dead space | vandal,
- ✘ fate/stay night | arturia pendragon,
- ✘ tf: idw | ultra magnus,
- ✘ tf: prime | wheeljack,
- ✘ tf: shattered glass | soundwave (crau)
Hallways always [OPEN]
who: Vandal and any visitors. [OPEN]
what: Vandal is bed-bound, recovering from her month-long detainment and torture.
when: All this week.
where: The Medbay
warnings: very yes
notes: Tag in your own threads, it can be set during any point in the week.
The beep of the monitors is loud with her head this eerily silent. Whatever he did to her, between the needles and questioning, he separated it. Took something. Now that static in her head is far quieter. It's almost as maddening as when it was present.
Now she's almost lonely without it. Well- she was lonely before, but now even more so.
She doesn't sleep, no. It's not safe to sleep anymore. She wants to scream every time she's left alone, but it's not practical to have someone with her all the time. Prism is dead, the Gatherer is dead, but the way she goes back to that place every time she shuts her eyes.
So she lays in a space between waking and sleep, startling back to consciousness every tie she starts to drift. Shaking. Thinking about it. What it did to her.
She reaches up to smooth a finger over the gauze covering what used to be her right eye.
Ruined. He ruined her worse than the church did. The mental, the physical.
Everything. Ruined.
She wishes they'd have killed her when they found her.
But she's also a coward, and afraid of death, so here she sits and lets the stitches heal.
what: Vandal is bed-bound, recovering from her month-long detainment and torture.
when: All this week.
where: The Medbay
warnings: very yes
notes: Tag in your own threads, it can be set during any point in the week.
The beep of the monitors is loud with her head this eerily silent. Whatever he did to her, between the needles and questioning, he separated it. Took something. Now that static in her head is far quieter. It's almost as maddening as when it was present.
Now she's almost lonely without it. Well- she was lonely before, but now even more so.
She doesn't sleep, no. It's not safe to sleep anymore. She wants to scream every time she's left alone, but it's not practical to have someone with her all the time. Prism is dead, the Gatherer is dead, but the way she goes back to that place every time she shuts her eyes.
So she lays in a space between waking and sleep, startling back to consciousness every tie she starts to drift. Shaking. Thinking about it. What it did to her.
She reaches up to smooth a finger over the gauze covering what used to be her right eye.
Ruined. He ruined her worse than the church did. The mental, the physical.
Everything. Ruined.
She wishes they'd have killed her when they found her.
But she's also a coward, and afraid of death, so here she sits and lets the stitches heal.
no subject
What she'd left out, really, is that if she goes home, she'll be killed for sure. She's always had a death wish, but lately it's more... well. Just more.
"Come with me," She doesn't really know what she's saying, "You and Wing and Perceptor come with me we'll all go home..."
And she's not exactly stable. Or sane at the moment (if she ever was).
"Nobody gets hurt anymore I'm so tired of it... he took something from me, the static he took it and he took my fucking eye, Drift."
She's not really making sense anymore, just sobbing and babbling nonsense, but at least she's getting it out. Eventually she starts to calm. Or at least appears to have exhausted herself.
no subject
Prism certainly won't.
"Vandal--Karrie. Don't let him take any more. What he did, he did, but don't let him take anything else. Don't let him take you."
no subject
She swallows, her breathing still trembling, awkwardly trying to wipe off that wet spot on his autobrand with her wrist.
What she really wants, is to die. But Drift is right, that would be letting him win. And it would be letting them down. All of them. After they worked so hard to get her back. And she, despite everything, still wants to stay with them.
"Y'know. You're still my h-kh-" Her voice catches, "Hero."
no subject
"Give yourself time," he murmurs. "Please."
He stops her swiping at him with one hand, grinning down at her. It doesn't matter, a little dampness.
Until she speaks.
"Karrie. I'm no hero. But...thank you."
no subject
But she stops dead, looks right up and him and gives him that look.
"Don't argue. You're a hero. Everyone that came for me is. But you're... just. Mine." If that makes any sense at all.
Her head goes back down and she resumes listening to him.
no subject
"Yes," he says, voice soft and earnest. "Yours, Vandal. Whenever you need me."
no subject
Better than the damn bed for her. She's actually comfortable for the first time in a long time.
"Drift?" She sounds utterly exhausted, "I'm sorry I wasn't there when- when stuff happened. They told me. And. Yeah. I'm glad you're here."
Honestly the thought of him dying makes the tears well up again, but she swallows. He's here now, that's what matters.
no subject
Oh. That. He'd sort of been hoping that he could, you know, not have to deal with that.
"It was...it happened." He wasn't really ready to deal with it himself.
no subject
"We'll take care of each other, okay?" She'll leave that subject at that. Talks can happen later.
She'd considered asking for his seats, but she actually prefers it this way. She feels more... equal this way. She likes to see his face and optics and feel all the little movements and twitches.
no subject
He hopes. He feels like he's stumbling in the dark. He'd felt the same about accompanying Rodimus and that...hadn't worked out.
The moment stretches, probably uncomfortably as Drift tries to think of something helpful to say.
"Oh. I...brought you peaches. For later. When you want to."
no subject
She does perk up a little at the mention of peaches, but her stomach is still churning.
"Really? I didn't know there were any left..." She missed that too. Good food.
"Thank you. You're always thinking of me." She'd give him a kiss on the nose but given when they'd talked about before everything happened, she's not really sure she'd make him uncomfortable.
no subject
That, and he'd also looked for them.
He holds up the can. "I'll leave it here. You can, you know, look at it or something until you feel ready to eat them." Wow that probably sounds stupid. "...the can''s kind of pretty." Maybe.
Too much had happened since their last meeting, and he was just glad to have her back. If she wanted to get mad at him later, he'd be okay with that, simply because she would still be here
no subject
"Mom always told me I'd fall for a funny man with a good heart." There's a small exhale of sound that is trying to imitate a chuff of amusement.
"If only she could see me now. Two outta three. Just couldn't nail the 'man' part."
She looks at the can of peaches distantly.
"Wish it wasn't so damn quiet in here."
no subject
He looks back at the peaches, a little proudly, because it was something that made her happy, that he had done.
"It is quiet." He frowns. "Want me to go see if I can find your music player?"
no subject
Nitty-gritty, but whatever.
She shakes her head at his question.
"Nah. My RIG is the control anyways, and I'm not gonna make you run and get that for me. Rather have you here."
no subject
He shrugs. "I try to be good. Wouldn't count on it, though."
Drift adjusts her against him. "I'd rather be here. Just wish there was a way you could get some music."
no subject
"You could sing," She teases, not really expecting him to take her seriously.
"You have a lovely voice."
no subject
He gives a shy sort of grin as she touches the red marker. It was so different from the one he'd worn for so many years.
"Sing? Me? But..I don't know any songs."
no subject
"I missed you smiling at me like that so. You get off this once."
Her head rests back down, voice slightly sleepy.
"I taught you songs. Remember? I taught you all kinds of songs."
no subject
A-as long as she doesn't actually do it.
"You taught me the one. And it was weird."
no subject
"I know but you'd probably apologize for my hand, wouldn't you?" Because he's like that.
"So sing me that one. Or one you know from your planet..."
no subject
"I don't think you'd like any of the songs I know from back then. They're pretty, uh, well... they're in NeoCybex." For one thing. For another, Decepticon songs tended to be fairly gleefully gruesome and he doesn't think that maybe that's what she wants to hear.
no subject
"I don't mind. I think your language is pretty." In an odd way, for how... well. How odd it sounded. How very unlike any other human language it is, it's pretty.
"Even if it's just a fable song or something like that. I don't care." Hell he could hum a few vars and she'd be happy.
no subject
"...all right." He collects himself for a minute, trying to remember some of the songs he knew. Most of them were Decepticon propaganda lyrics grafted over probably better melodies, so he picks one of those, hoping all the lyrics about injustice and retribution don't come of as too horrifying.
"It's probably better drunk," he murmurs as he finishes.
no subject
She curls up a little more, imagining the distant thrum of his spark is the beat.
"Thank you. That was pretty." More over, it seemed to do wonders in relaxing her.