Rex Arany (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
heromedal) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
daybreakacademy2019-02-27 09:25 pm
heromedal) wrote in daybreakacademy2019-02-27 09:25 pm
I caught Generic Anime Blood Coughing syndrome from all the animes.
Who: Rex, medical dudes and anyone unlucky enough to talk to him.
What: Rex seeks medical help. Then is an idiot.
When: 27th Feb and some other times afterwards.
Where: Nurse's office and then the quad.
Warnings: Blood, talk of cancer,
[Sickbay]
The slowly building pain in Rex's gut had mostly been ignored. For three reasons. Because physical pain isn't something Rex worried too much about. Because he assumed it was somehow a side effect of the way his stomach squeezed and rolled when he did things he hated himself for. Which was pretty much everything he did. And because his entire body ached all the time so much that was his normal.
And then he coughed up some blood. His medical knowledge was exceptional for someone his age and education, but it was largely based on battlefield medicine. As evidenced by the way he was basically incapable of caring for himself. So he was forced to do the one thing you are never meant to do, google your symptoms.
"It seems very likely I have lung cancer," is how Rex introduces himself as he comes through the door and spots Hieke. Just getting right in there. It seems entirely in keeping with his life and luck so far. He's not even surprised. Calmly and collected, he spits into a tissue he's brought with him- some more red added to it. "But a second opinion would be appreciated."
By second opinion he means first opinion because he is not a doctor.
[Guess who's back?]
A while after being told he's not dying (or at least, not as quickly as he thought), Rex makes his glorious return for a check up. He almost spins on his heel and exits the second he spots Ekkehardt is the only one there. It's nothing to do with the forgotten moments that remain buried in the back of his head. It's because making a fool of himself as a masked weirdo had been embarrassing, at least once he'd finally collapsed and slept for a while.
Still, the mask did distort his voice. Though there were few of his stature around. But he hadn't had an inch of skin on show. So on and so on in a mental debate with himself. In the end, he steps in. Though doesn't open with some overly dramatic comment about his health. Just coughs lightly, in a quiet attention-grabbing way that isn't sure if it wants any attention at all. That way the onus is on Ekkehardt to possibly comment on his masked midnight escapades. Or not, for preference.
[Quad]
The revelation that Rex does not have terminal anything was a small relief. Only a small one- a part of him had already begun romanticising the idea of getting to peacefully pass away for reasons beyond his control once his mission was done. Another part was making plans to find ways to live after death. Both ideas made other parts of him feel even worse about himself.
However, one thing is for sure. Something even Rex cannot see a downside in.
Dairy is good for a stomach ulcer.
Rex loves dairy so much.
He's set up outside, on a bench and has got a huge stack of probiotics on his right and a slightly smaller stack of empty ones on his left as he just keeps wolfing them down. He's well aware this not how it works. He also doesn't care. He can't stop himself. He's probably gonna puke in a minute.
What: Rex seeks medical help. Then is an idiot.
When: 27th Feb and some other times afterwards.
Where: Nurse's office and then the quad.
Warnings: Blood, talk of cancer,
[Sickbay]
The slowly building pain in Rex's gut had mostly been ignored. For three reasons. Because physical pain isn't something Rex worried too much about. Because he assumed it was somehow a side effect of the way his stomach squeezed and rolled when he did things he hated himself for. Which was pretty much everything he did. And because his entire body ached all the time so much that was his normal.
And then he coughed up some blood. His medical knowledge was exceptional for someone his age and education, but it was largely based on battlefield medicine. As evidenced by the way he was basically incapable of caring for himself. So he was forced to do the one thing you are never meant to do, google your symptoms.
"It seems very likely I have lung cancer," is how Rex introduces himself as he comes through the door and spots Hieke. Just getting right in there. It seems entirely in keeping with his life and luck so far. He's not even surprised. Calmly and collected, he spits into a tissue he's brought with him- some more red added to it. "But a second opinion would be appreciated."
By second opinion he means first opinion because he is not a doctor.
[Guess who's back?]
A while after being told he's not dying (or at least, not as quickly as he thought), Rex makes his glorious return for a check up. He almost spins on his heel and exits the second he spots Ekkehardt is the only one there. It's nothing to do with the forgotten moments that remain buried in the back of his head. It's because making a fool of himself as a masked weirdo had been embarrassing, at least once he'd finally collapsed and slept for a while.
Still, the mask did distort his voice. Though there were few of his stature around. But he hadn't had an inch of skin on show. So on and so on in a mental debate with himself. In the end, he steps in. Though doesn't open with some overly dramatic comment about his health. Just coughs lightly, in a quiet attention-grabbing way that isn't sure if it wants any attention at all. That way the onus is on Ekkehardt to possibly comment on his masked midnight escapades. Or not, for preference.
[Quad]
The revelation that Rex does not have terminal anything was a small relief. Only a small one- a part of him had already begun romanticising the idea of getting to peacefully pass away for reasons beyond his control once his mission was done. Another part was making plans to find ways to live after death. Both ideas made other parts of him feel even worse about himself.
However, one thing is for sure. Something even Rex cannot see a downside in.
Dairy is good for a stomach ulcer.
Rex loves dairy so much.
He's set up outside, on a bench and has got a huge stack of probiotics on his right and a slightly smaller stack of empty ones on his left as he just keeps wolfing them down. He's well aware this not how it works. He also doesn't care. He can't stop himself. He's probably gonna puke in a minute.
no subject
You're such a fucking loser. [He's delighted. It's cute.] Glad somebody's properly appreciating me, though. Finally, damn. Guess I gotta admit you've got taste after all.
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[ Rex is a little embarrassed at his outburst- not as much as he thinks he should be, but enough he turns away to huff a little. Really good. Five hundred points wasn't enough. ]
Everyone else tells me my taste is awful and I still see no reason to conclude they are incorrect.
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Eh, that's because you're so tall your head is in the fucking clouds, and you can't see shit clearly. I'm a trustworthy authority on these matters and don't want you getting hurt, grim, so leave all the big brain decision stuff to me. I hereby say you got fucking taste, the end.
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Hmph. You have a way with a turn of phrase I'll grant you, when I understand a word you say, but when it comes to taste I've not seen any indication of it from you.
[ Because Mav seems to like hanging around with him and what's that all about. ]
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Sure you have! You like my name. My Mama's the fucking best and all, but she's not the one that picked it. That shit's all me.
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A name doesn't make up for the rest of it, no matter how good a name it is.
[ But gosh what a name. Nearly as edgy as Rex's own naming conventions. ]
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Hey, what's "the rest of it" supposed to fucking mean? Whatcha got a problem with, buddy?
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[ I mean. He asked. Rex says it with his usual flat tone but you know it's fond. ]
Also your inability to wrap your mind around the concept that I am tall.
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Nah, it's just fun to fucking rag on you for it. Not the most creative shit to pick out, but you keep falling for it, for some fucking reason.
[Showing any kind of reaction is good, in Mav's opinion.]
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[ This is Rex's genuine concern. Actually really. ]
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The fuck? [Seriously...?] Fuck is your problem?
[This is...less cute and pseudofriendly, in his opinion. He was having fun...but was this guy just amused because he was some kinda basketcase, to him? Feels bad.]
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They can cause short term memory loss and you seem to forget and notice my height several times. Arguably it could be early onset Alzheimer's disease but it's quite rare in people of our age.
[ The wind whilstles here, Rex's completely emotionless explaination topped with- ]
Or you could simply be exceptionally annoying, which would be especially bothersome because the only known treatment is getting beaten bloody until you stop.
[ This is his attempt to do what Mav's been doing. Isn't that a fun thing to say? Of course he said it the same way he'd explain a tough math problem, but that's just how he talks. Same way Mav can't stop swearing. ]
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Which is why his hackles lower again as Rex continues. That's more normal.]
I'm gonna bet all five hundred of my fucking points on the second one, dipshit. [And look, the grin is back! Small, but back.] Tell you what, since you're under the weather, I'll take a rain check on the beatdown. Sound good?
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Hmmph. A shame. With a handicap, it might have had a modicum of challenge.
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Ha! You wish it'd be easy. When you're better, we'll have a real fucking brawl, yeah? Haven't had a proper fight in what feels like fucking forever... It'll be fun!
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But they're both illiterate. ]
Unfortunately, rule two of the ten golden rules of Arany Style is 'Picking on the weak is lame. Beating the strong is cool.' Therefore I should decline, or I shall become lame.
[ He fully expects (some might say anticipating) the reply 'you're already lame.' ]
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[He's bad at enough things, he doesn't need these assumptions making him even more incapable. Wrestle him...]
Besides... Gave the distinct fucking impression you didn't care about being lame or not with every other little thing about you, anyway, dunno why you fucking wanna start giving a shit now.
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Most things, no. But the ten golden rules were important to my mother.
[ Not that he actually lives by them. Just can't stop thinking about how much of a piece of shit he is when he breaks them or even thinks they're stupid. ]
As someone who holds his own mother is held in high regard, I'm sure you'll understand.
[ But mostly he's just been busting Maverick's chops so- ]
So you better be strong, or I'll get really pissed off that you made me break one.
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There's the concession to a future fight, though, so he perks right on up. People taking him seriously...one of his (not so) secret kinks.]
Damn fucking right. What are the other rules? Let's see how cool your mom fucking is.
["Was" he almost wants to say, since the rules "were" important to her...but a cool mom is forever.]
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[ Helen's coolness can indeed pierce the veil, even if she can't.
Rex lists them, with the air of someone who has them perfectly memorised. Not a pause or stammer out of place. ]
1) Those who do not know the value of a life, don't have the right to take one.
2) Picking on the weak is lame. Beating the strong is cool.
3) Confidence is power. Aim go to have the level of confidence where you hit on everyone you think is hot.
4) Dreams come true if you act.
5) You lose when you're dead. Don't die and don't lose.
6) The difference between the weak and the strong is nothing but will.
7) Recycle.
8) Don't be yourself. Be who you want to be.
9) Make every day a dazzlingly bright golden day.
[And then there's 10. ]
She never told me number 10. It's supposedly for masters of the style only, and she was the only one.
no subject
Not to trash recycling or nothing, but it kinda sounds like she got bored after six... Or maybe at six? That one's kinda fucking close to an earlier one, isn't it...?
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[ She made a lot of jokes he never found funny. Like him. ]
Anyway. Six seems close to three at first, but I think three is about actual combat and six is about... getting the things you want.
[ He stops to pinch his nose. He doesn't really understand any of them, not even seven because he can't work out why she made it a rule. He doesn't even know if she actually cared about them or they were just things she said that she thought sounded cool. He didn't question any of it when she was there and now he'll never know anything more about her than he does now. ]
...I don't know. They were better when she said them.
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I believe it. Both because she sounds fucking rad and because I'm certain there's very little to be said that's not cooler out of anyone else's mouth over yours. Man, Mama probably would've liked her.
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Probably. [ The way he says it means it's 'definitely' even if it's his usual gloomy voice. ] She would have liked you.
[ He has the smallest hint of a smile when he adds- ]
She liked jerks.
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...He's not quite sure what to say to that, though. Not every day some tall, dark(, handsome?? unsure, he'll have to think more on that some other time, maybe) dude tells you his mother would have liked you. Rex was a mama's boy like him, though, so it's only natural he'd think about things like that at random.]
Hey, I'll take it. Obviously a smart lady.
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