Héctor (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
unpocoloco) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
daybreakacademy2019-02-13 09:59 am
unpocoloco) wrote in daybreakacademy2019-02-13 09:59 am
Here in the dark, in these final hours, I will lay down my heart and I'll feel the power
WHO: Héctor, OTA Catch All
WHERE: Around the school
WHEN: Various times after the 9th and/or the Valentines dance
WHAT: Various opens in the late evening
WARNINGS: Standard spoilers
You can't turn around a bad day, week, month, year, decade... you can't turn any of that without trying first. And so, once the monster's beaten back, his lost arm is returned, and the dance wraps up, so begins his annual rejuvenation. It's his return to the grind, starting every January (late this year but, well, he's doing his best), when he goes back to the drawing board and renews his plans-- only this time, not just for his return home. He's got a few things in mind this year, and isn't that exciting in and of itself?
A - OTA
With his arm back in place and whole again (gone for that week of the 2nd to the 9th and leaving him looking more like a zombie to people than he'd ever let himself before), he can actually get back to repairing the other one who took some hits this past while.
Rather than steal from the shop class, this time Héctor has decided to break in. Which, considering how much they let him use this place for doing repairs around the school, it isn't really breaking in is it? He doesn't think so. And so, upon a work table, in the dead of night, he's lain out a broken guitar. He's got nails and tools, bits of wood and scrap metal, anything he thought he could need for trying to repair the old thing. The guitar's not going to sound good when he's done, but it'll be something.
Despite everything, he's not quite ready to give up on music yet. In fact, he takes to humming a little as he works, breaking into soft song only to quiet again into humming as he hammers and cuts and sands away at the guitar. Until he hears footsteps and abruptly stops, that is.
B - Aube
Not every night can be spent on fixing the guitar. He's still got occasional evening classes to TA for, things to mark, essays to read. On those nights, he settles in the Aube common room, quietly working this time.
Being nocturnal as he is means bad news for any kids sneaking out of the dorm late in the night. "Ah, ah!" He says to any looking a little too ready to go, eyes lifting from his work to them and brows lifting higher. "Did you text Bee for this little excursion?"
C - Aube
Of course, not every child getting up in the night is looking for rowdy adventure. He knows all too well by now that some of these kids have had more adventure than they ever asked or bargained for. Those quiet wanderers, or ones who settle in corners, they're no less apt to get his attention.
He gives them their moment of space and quiet. Just a moment. Then, trying not to scare or disturb them, he walks over, placing a hand to the back of any given chair and tilting his head down at them.
"Hey," He says, soft as he can. "You okay? Can't sleep?"
D - OTA
In the early mornings, for any early risers who seek him (and not one of the smarter or more experienced of adults in this place) he's of course there to tutor those who need it. He may not always know what he's doing with magic but he can work out a lesson and, more than that, he can work with kids.
He draws another example upon paper when he can't simply show it, and he presents it, explaining each piece and part. "Do you understand?" He asks.
Perhaps you're the one he's tutoring. Or, perhaps, you're catching him just as the last kid wanders off and he's gathering up the books and papers, time soon running out with the coming dawn. But he might have time for one more.
E - OTA
He doesn't know the first thing about this, any of this. He keeps telling himself he's not a fighter, but more and more he's coming to realize he might need to be. It's not just about him anymore.
That evening he finds himself in one of the training areas. The bow he takes up is tall and heavy, heavier than a guitar. He's got the dexterity for that and the experiencing of firing... his arm. But it's not the same and he hasn't entirely got the strength built in him for using this thing. He's not sure if he can build the strength or if what he's got is as good as it's going to get. But he can't see himself yet using anything else.
So, there he is in the range, practicing. His shots mostly miss but every now and again he gets somewhere and he's encouraged to go farther. He gives a little laugh of victory and surprise in these moments. Hopefully he's not interrupting anything.
Of course in all his focus, anyone interrupting him is almost certain to make him jump and yelp and send and arrow flying far off target.
F - OTA
At some point before the library's closing for the night, he's managed to surround himself so thoroughly in books that he's built something of a wall around himself. His hand is half tangled in his hair and his brow is knit with concentration, pencil tapping absentmindedly in his other hand as he reads. The books seem to be all about defensive and offensive runes and spells.
"Wait, what?" He straightens up, flipping pages back, and then to his current page, comparing them. "That doesn't make sense, how can you-- what?"
G -[Closed to Orihime]
"Orihime?"
The call comes with a knock. Finally, at long last, he can repay this girl. He's ready at her door, smiling in his newly repaired clothing and holding a bag of tools and materials (nabbed from the shop class as usual).
As the door opens he laughs and say, "Repair service! Is now a good time?"
H - St. Valentine's eve - [Closed to close CR and/or those who ask first]
He's only been here so long, only saved up so much and a lot of it goes towards his hopeful plans. But for this, he can spare a small expense.
The shopkeeper had eyed him curiously, as exhausted and nervous as he'd appeared to be that morning of the thirteenth, pushing the limits of his magic into the day. He knows, in some sense, that he shouldn't. He really, really shouldn't.
But it's the first time in ten years he could do anything and... well, she deserves something. After ten years she deserves so much and a simple carnation or rose just isn't cutting it. Even this doesn't quite but... he can't push more, because even with this, the best gift he could give is his distance.
The note simply reads "for Imelda Rivera" in fancy calligraphic script. He presses the tiny card to his lips then places it back into the bouquet. It's a bright one, colorful, with full, giant blooms. There's soft pinks and bright ones, oranges and reds and blues, greenery, and vivid purples-- her favorite. It'll remind her of home, he's sure.
Off he goes into the night, bringing his delivery to the Lumiere dorms. He just needs to leave it at her door and go. So far so good. He won't get to see her reaction like this, but that's fine. She doesn't need to be happy with him, he just needs her to be happy. That's what he tells himself as he slowly and quietly works his way back, turns the corner-- and freezes, a deer in headlights as the second worst thing that could happen here, does.
I - Other, Make your own
WHERE: Around the school
WHEN: Various times after the 9th and/or the Valentines dance
WHAT: Various opens in the late evening
WARNINGS: Standard spoilers
You can't turn around a bad day, week, month, year, decade... you can't turn any of that without trying first. And so, once the monster's beaten back, his lost arm is returned, and the dance wraps up, so begins his annual rejuvenation. It's his return to the grind, starting every January (late this year but, well, he's doing his best), when he goes back to the drawing board and renews his plans-- only this time, not just for his return home. He's got a few things in mind this year, and isn't that exciting in and of itself?
A - OTA
With his arm back in place and whole again (gone for that week of the 2nd to the 9th and leaving him looking more like a zombie to people than he'd ever let himself before), he can actually get back to repairing the other one who took some hits this past while.
Rather than steal from the shop class, this time Héctor has decided to break in. Which, considering how much they let him use this place for doing repairs around the school, it isn't really breaking in is it? He doesn't think so. And so, upon a work table, in the dead of night, he's lain out a broken guitar. He's got nails and tools, bits of wood and scrap metal, anything he thought he could need for trying to repair the old thing. The guitar's not going to sound good when he's done, but it'll be something.
Despite everything, he's not quite ready to give up on music yet. In fact, he takes to humming a little as he works, breaking into soft song only to quiet again into humming as he hammers and cuts and sands away at the guitar. Until he hears footsteps and abruptly stops, that is.
B - Aube
Not every night can be spent on fixing the guitar. He's still got occasional evening classes to TA for, things to mark, essays to read. On those nights, he settles in the Aube common room, quietly working this time.
Being nocturnal as he is means bad news for any kids sneaking out of the dorm late in the night. "Ah, ah!" He says to any looking a little too ready to go, eyes lifting from his work to them and brows lifting higher. "Did you text Bee for this little excursion?"
C - Aube
Of course, not every child getting up in the night is looking for rowdy adventure. He knows all too well by now that some of these kids have had more adventure than they ever asked or bargained for. Those quiet wanderers, or ones who settle in corners, they're no less apt to get his attention.
He gives them their moment of space and quiet. Just a moment. Then, trying not to scare or disturb them, he walks over, placing a hand to the back of any given chair and tilting his head down at them.
"Hey," He says, soft as he can. "You okay? Can't sleep?"
D - OTA
In the early mornings, for any early risers who seek him (and not one of the smarter or more experienced of adults in this place) he's of course there to tutor those who need it. He may not always know what he's doing with magic but he can work out a lesson and, more than that, he can work with kids.
He draws another example upon paper when he can't simply show it, and he presents it, explaining each piece and part. "Do you understand?" He asks.
Perhaps you're the one he's tutoring. Or, perhaps, you're catching him just as the last kid wanders off and he's gathering up the books and papers, time soon running out with the coming dawn. But he might have time for one more.
E - OTA
He doesn't know the first thing about this, any of this. He keeps telling himself he's not a fighter, but more and more he's coming to realize he might need to be. It's not just about him anymore.
That evening he finds himself in one of the training areas. The bow he takes up is tall and heavy, heavier than a guitar. He's got the dexterity for that and the experiencing of firing... his arm. But it's not the same and he hasn't entirely got the strength built in him for using this thing. He's not sure if he can build the strength or if what he's got is as good as it's going to get. But he can't see himself yet using anything else.
So, there he is in the range, practicing. His shots mostly miss but every now and again he gets somewhere and he's encouraged to go farther. He gives a little laugh of victory and surprise in these moments. Hopefully he's not interrupting anything.
Of course in all his focus, anyone interrupting him is almost certain to make him jump and yelp and send and arrow flying far off target.
F - OTA
At some point before the library's closing for the night, he's managed to surround himself so thoroughly in books that he's built something of a wall around himself. His hand is half tangled in his hair and his brow is knit with concentration, pencil tapping absentmindedly in his other hand as he reads. The books seem to be all about defensive and offensive runes and spells.
"Wait, what?" He straightens up, flipping pages back, and then to his current page, comparing them. "That doesn't make sense, how can you-- what?"
G -[Closed to Orihime]
"Orihime?"
The call comes with a knock. Finally, at long last, he can repay this girl. He's ready at her door, smiling in his newly repaired clothing and holding a bag of tools and materials (nabbed from the shop class as usual).
As the door opens he laughs and say, "Repair service! Is now a good time?"
H - St. Valentine's eve - [Closed to close CR and/or those who ask first]
He's only been here so long, only saved up so much and a lot of it goes towards his hopeful plans. But for this, he can spare a small expense.
The shopkeeper had eyed him curiously, as exhausted and nervous as he'd appeared to be that morning of the thirteenth, pushing the limits of his magic into the day. He knows, in some sense, that he shouldn't. He really, really shouldn't.
But it's the first time in ten years he could do anything and... well, she deserves something. After ten years she deserves so much and a simple carnation or rose just isn't cutting it. Even this doesn't quite but... he can't push more, because even with this, the best gift he could give is his distance.
The note simply reads "for Imelda Rivera" in fancy calligraphic script. He presses the tiny card to his lips then places it back into the bouquet. It's a bright one, colorful, with full, giant blooms. There's soft pinks and bright ones, oranges and reds and blues, greenery, and vivid purples-- her favorite. It'll remind her of home, he's sure.
Off he goes into the night, bringing his delivery to the Lumiere dorms. He just needs to leave it at her door and go. So far so good. He won't get to see her reaction like this, but that's fine. She doesn't need to be happy with him, he just needs her to be happy. That's what he tells himself as he slowly and quietly works his way back, turns the corner-- and freezes, a deer in headlights as the second worst thing that could happen here, does.
I - Other, Make your own
no subject
Wasn't my business. It's not like it's that fucking simple, either. You gotta keep that puppy on a better leash, though, because he apparently doesn't want to fucking listen to me when I'm the one who fucking told him about the ban in the first place.
no subject
Ay... There's no leashing that boy. Not for anything, trust me, I have tried.
[It says something, a few somethings, that he doesn't even have to ask who Maverick means.]
He really does mean well but he'd throw me to the wolves while thinking maybe a pack of dogs would make me happy. I can't tell you how many times I've told him to drop it and leave Imelda alone. Never mind how he throws himself into danger. [Or nearly outs him as dead. Or nearly outs himself as dead.]
no subject
Not going around looking like a bumbling jackass or an obvious sadsack might help him resist. Just to float that idea the fuck out here.
no subject
Sorry. I'll just flip a switch and become a magically different person. Who could have thought everyone's problems would be solved so easily? Can't wait to start my new life today.
no subject
There, that's the spirit. You do sarcastic, bitter bitch pretty well.
no subject
You expect me to maintain this all the time? My bitter sarcasm is a fine dish. I can't just toss it around willy nilly. It'll lose all its value. This is special occasion deals only.
no subject
["Conviction," he almost says, along with something mean. Dude probably gets the idea that Maverick doesn't think much of his character, so he can ease off for the day.]
You just gotta sell it. Ain't you a fucking performer?
no subject
I was a performer. A very long time ago. But I wasn't that kind. [And that's no sarcasm, that is all bitter the whole scathing way down.] I wasn't interested in being a phony sellout. That was my dumb best friend's M.O.
no subject
Don't need your fucking life story. You know, maybe if you didn't spill your guts so much, the puppy wouldn't have all that fucking ammunition.
no subject
no subject
I asked him to be an example of someone that liked music and wasn't a fuck-up. Didn't realize that was an invitation to take life lessons from King Fuck-Up on making a good person miserable.
no subject
no subject
They reach the door out, and he's quick to pull out his lighter. He doesn't speak, even after he's sighed out a cloud of smoke, because hours away from Valentine's Day isn't the time to seek out conversational kill points even if someone's a shitty dad and shitty husband and shitty mentor, probably, he doesn't actually know, but it's the principle of the thing. He could keep arguing, but would be...a lot. He doesn't need to make things even more complicated for Imelda just because he wants to go for the jugular, metaphorically speaking.
So. Saying nothing it is.]
no subject
But, when they get outside and Maverick lights up that cigarette, he only makes it a few steps before hesitating and turning back.]
Hey, you probably don't want to listen to me right now. Or ever. But... don't stay out here too long, okay? There's been... things around. Dangerous things and not the kind that can be taken on or taken lightly. Imelda can confirm as much in the morning if you don't believe me. I figure you're going to have your smokes either way so, just... be careful, when you do. And thank you again.
no subject
I just fucking stay here so I can go back in when I'm done instead of freezing my balls off wandering around like a loser. I'll head in if I see any other suspicious freaks hanging around. Deal?
no subject
Sounds like a deal. I'll be out of your hair then, one less suspicious freak. So long, kid.
[He walks off then, his usual hobbling shuffle with a sharp eye kept along the walls and treeline and anywhere that something could pop out of. But despite that, he kind of feels better about tonight. For the first time in years, he's been able to do something for his wife. And even with that kid holding him up it... didn't go as bad as it could. He wished the kid well. With any luck they wouldn't run into one another too much after this.]