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)
daybreakacademy2019-01-19 09:37 am
unpocoloco) wrote in daybreakacademy2019-01-19 09:37 am
Entry tags:
I can't fit in this skin, It's worn and useless thin
WHO: Héctor and Peter (again), Héctor and Ekkehardt
WHERE: Aube and out by that old Gazebo hangout / the infirmary
WHEN: Nearly a week after the 28 days later mission
WHAT: A catch up and a Check Up TM with an absolutely miserable man.
WARNINGS: Spoilers and bones and corpses and likewise
For Peter
In theory, they probably could have talked on the plane when it was taking them back. But as it was happening he could only stare ahead, glassy eyes wide and a million miles away. Feeling like his heart was tearing more and more the further the plane flew, he didn't manage to even glance Peter's way.
Not to mention, it wasn't long before everything else kicked in, the undead poisons he breathed, his time limit, the simple memory of the undead being blown apart. At that point, his knees were drawn up as close as he could make them, his arms went hugging his gut, and his head bowed. His breath little more than a rasp, he spent the rest of that plane trip shuddering as the shimmers of gold flickered on off through him and offered no more than pained or sickly grunts after that.
It's a miracle he made it to the freezer, really, and this time he didn't wait to change for a second, simply tumbling into a dead heap in the cold. Days pass. And then nights too. His skin starts turning blue and his hair becomes stiff with frost and there is no doubt that what's in that cramped freezer is absolutely a corpse.
It's not the longest he's been down for, but it's certainly up there. He doesn't burst from the freezer this time. Instead, waking with that first gasp, his body rattles with the cold but otherwise it's a struggle to move. Blindly, he eventually finds the door and climbs out. He can hardly care how it looks to everyone else; he grabs the blankets off his bed and walks out with them and his guitar, still shivering with them wrapped around. It's probably a good thing it's the dead of night anyway. He's set to leave, go out and play Coco's song, when he stops and turns back.
He goes to Peter's door. Then stands there, wondering if he should knock when the kid might be asleep. Perhaps at some point Peter will find him instead, ice chunks still in hair. Or perhaps he'll catch him out the door.
For Ekkehardt
Just a few more nights later, once he thinks he's finally gotten his bearings and gathered... he's not even sure if it's courage but something, he makes his way to the infirmary at last. He's been here a few times but not for himself. Mostly for saying hello to anyway awake and peering out the door or to try and see if there's anything he can "borrow". Still, even that is a rare event. Doctors and Dead equaled bad, bad, very bad things.
Or at least, that's what he thought before. Seeing that shade of Ekkehardt before, he hasn't entirely been able to get it out of mind. He's also simply reaching a point where things are hard right now and if the only thing he can deal with is his bones, then maybe it was time to deal with that.
And so, he's here, in the late evening when most are asleep. He hopes. He breathes deep, swallows nervously, then pushes through the door.
"Señor Ekkehardt? Are you in?"
WHERE: Aube and out by that old Gazebo hangout / the infirmary
WHEN: Nearly a week after the 28 days later mission
WHAT: A catch up and a Check Up TM with an absolutely miserable man.
WARNINGS: Spoilers and bones and corpses and likewise
For Peter
In theory, they probably could have talked on the plane when it was taking them back. But as it was happening he could only stare ahead, glassy eyes wide and a million miles away. Feeling like his heart was tearing more and more the further the plane flew, he didn't manage to even glance Peter's way.
Not to mention, it wasn't long before everything else kicked in, the undead poisons he breathed, his time limit, the simple memory of the undead being blown apart. At that point, his knees were drawn up as close as he could make them, his arms went hugging his gut, and his head bowed. His breath little more than a rasp, he spent the rest of that plane trip shuddering as the shimmers of gold flickered on off through him and offered no more than pained or sickly grunts after that.
It's a miracle he made it to the freezer, really, and this time he didn't wait to change for a second, simply tumbling into a dead heap in the cold. Days pass. And then nights too. His skin starts turning blue and his hair becomes stiff with frost and there is no doubt that what's in that cramped freezer is absolutely a corpse.
It's not the longest he's been down for, but it's certainly up there. He doesn't burst from the freezer this time. Instead, waking with that first gasp, his body rattles with the cold but otherwise it's a struggle to move. Blindly, he eventually finds the door and climbs out. He can hardly care how it looks to everyone else; he grabs the blankets off his bed and walks out with them and his guitar, still shivering with them wrapped around. It's probably a good thing it's the dead of night anyway. He's set to leave, go out and play Coco's song, when he stops and turns back.
He goes to Peter's door. Then stands there, wondering if he should knock when the kid might be asleep. Perhaps at some point Peter will find him instead, ice chunks still in hair. Or perhaps he'll catch him out the door.
For Ekkehardt
Just a few more nights later, once he thinks he's finally gotten his bearings and gathered... he's not even sure if it's courage but something, he makes his way to the infirmary at last. He's been here a few times but not for himself. Mostly for saying hello to anyway awake and peering out the door or to try and see if there's anything he can "borrow". Still, even that is a rare event. Doctors and Dead equaled bad, bad, very bad things.
Or at least, that's what he thought before. Seeing that shade of Ekkehardt before, he hasn't entirely been able to get it out of mind. He's also simply reaching a point where things are hard right now and if the only thing he can deal with is his bones, then maybe it was time to deal with that.
And so, he's here, in the late evening when most are asleep. He hopes. He breathes deep, swallows nervously, then pushes through the door.
"Señor Ekkehardt? Are you in?"
no subject
"I can't say I know exactly that's like, myself. I'm entrusted with the care of children who have little else left to them besides the family I serve, but I doubt they see me as a parent. More of a big brother than anything, I think."
Not quite the same, but it's still love. For the family he serves, for the children under his care. It's what drives him in the end, the desire to protect.
no subject
And it's one he can see too. Which is why he makes a face and waves a hand as Ekkehardt goes on. "Ah, family is family! Don't sell your love short like that, my friend! I think you and I both know that if they're your center, they're your world. And if that's the case I'm sure you mean very much to them."
And as Ekkehardt sounds to still be in touch, he's got no doubt that's true. Unlike himself.
"Besides, I'd have loved a big brother when I was a kid. I had an older friend but I always taught him more than he taught me." And he turned out to be a jerk. So it goes.