Agent Carolina | McAlister (
youfallback) wrote in
paradisalogs2013-05-02 11:42 pm
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
Entry tags:
But the ghosts that we knew {OPEN};
Who: Carolina and you!
What: Training at all hours of the day. Like sane people do. c:
When: 0400-1200 and 1400-2200 (the gym), 1200-1300 (the kitchen), 2200-2300 (the kitchen)
Where: The gym and the kitchen
Rating: PG-13 maybe for language and/or violence
[Most nights, Carolina couldn't sleep. The near-constant feeling of not being secure or safe enough to shut her eyes kept what adrenaline she had left pumping through her well enough to keep her awake. That said, she can't run on fumes all week long and when she does sleep, she dreams about home. About twin voices screaming her dead mother's name in her head, when plugging her ears only amplifies the sound. About a teammate taking two axes to the chest, from a soldier Carolina had never trusted, never wanted to trust. About another teammate grabbing her around the neck, yanking the AI chips from the back of her neck, tossing her from a cliff like a piece of garbage. About waiting in the snow. About never being good enough. About throwing a lighter.
It's one of those nights when her body forces her to sleep long enough to recharge enough of her battery to somewhat function, but the nightmares don't stay away. They never do. And she wakes up early, in a cold sweat, shaking, screaming. It's enough to keep her awake for another couple days, she hopes, that her body got enough to last her. Two days awake is always too short a time, but she can't get herself to stay awake longer and the four hours or so of sleep are always too long.
So, she's out of bed in an instant, tugging her armor on before all but sprinting down to the gym at 0400, needing a distraction and a purpose to her life.
Or what she could call a life in guilty conscience.]
(ooc: I will have open threads, just tag wherever! Just specify the time please so there can be multiple threads per location. c:
Current threads: South's is around noonish. Church's is before 1400. York's is at 1400. )
What: Training at all hours of the day. Like sane people do. c:
When: 0400-1200 and 1400-2200 (the gym), 1200-1300 (the kitchen), 2200-2300 (the kitchen)
Where: The gym and the kitchen
Rating: PG-13 maybe for language and/or violence
[Most nights, Carolina couldn't sleep. The near-constant feeling of not being secure or safe enough to shut her eyes kept what adrenaline she had left pumping through her well enough to keep her awake. That said, she can't run on fumes all week long and when she does sleep, she dreams about home. About twin voices screaming her dead mother's name in her head, when plugging her ears only amplifies the sound. About a teammate taking two axes to the chest, from a soldier Carolina had never trusted, never wanted to trust. About another teammate grabbing her around the neck, yanking the AI chips from the back of her neck, tossing her from a cliff like a piece of garbage. About waiting in the snow. About never being good enough. About throwing a lighter.
It's one of those nights when her body forces her to sleep long enough to recharge enough of her battery to somewhat function, but the nightmares don't stay away. They never do. And she wakes up early, in a cold sweat, shaking, screaming. It's enough to keep her awake for another couple days, she hopes, that her body got enough to last her. Two days awake is always too short a time, but she can't get herself to stay awake longer and the four hours or so of sleep are always too long.
So, she's out of bed in an instant, tugging her armor on before all but sprinting down to the gym at 0400, needing a distraction and a purpose to her life.
Or what she could call a life in guilty conscience.]
(ooc: I will have open threads, just tag wherever! Just specify the time please so there can be multiple threads per location. c:
Current threads: South's is around noonish. Church's is before 1400. York's is at 1400. )
no subject
[Emotion breaks in her voice as she spits the words out, leaning over the table and continuing to channel her building rage toward Carolina.]
no subject
I was supposed to be killed by Maine. [Every word is the beginning of a low growl.
But she should have expected that no one would be relieved to find her alive. York hadn't looked for her, her father hadn't looked for her, and now South. Figured.]
He still has time. [Even though she wants to call him a traitor.]
no subject
[She lets the anger break and wash over her, screaming at Carolina with a face twisted in rage and hurt.]
no subject
[In the past, she would have if she could, but she had so fewer details when she disappeared.]
no subject
Guess that's what I get for trusting you.
no subject
Don't fucking talk to me like that. You were the one who set him up to be killed. And you shot Wash in the back.
[This time her grip actually breaks the counter and a chunk cracks off in her hand.]
no subject
It doesn't fucking matter what I do here, does it? Because I can't change it. You know, you had me convinced I could? Fuck. You. I'll talk to you however I want, you fucking cunt.
no subject
[A larger piece of the counter comes off in her hands and she throws it at the wall in pure frustration. God, she can't do anything right, can she.
No, she has to be doing something right, because if she isn't---] You killed him. Everything has to do with you changing yourself so you don't end up murdering the only person who could ever tolerate you.
no subject
I am changed. I, me, here, I've tried so fucking hard, so don't you even fucking dare start in on me.
[Carolina's words sting, because there's truth to them. North was the only Freelancer, in her experience, who had ever given any thought to her, but she had tried to change, since being here, since learning about the future. That it didn't matter angered her in a way she couldn't even begin to describe, and violence was always her preferred coping mechanism.]
no subject
You mean kicking tables at people. Yeah, South, you've really changed.
no subject
[Her stance is defensive, tense and ready for a fight.]
no subject
no subject
[Yeah she came in here for lunch, too, but she's just as ready to throw down as she is to finish pizza leftovers.]
no subject
no subject
[She's through hesitating, taking a step and throwing the first punch.]
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
[She's not thinking logically at this point, just intent on releasing the angst that's been building up since North showed up and Carolina left.]
no subject
no subject
[Her failure to land anything was only further frustrating her.]
no subject
But she's back up on her feet a moment later, a little dazed but still concentrating.]
no subject
Not so hot anymore, are ya?
no subject
[With that, she darts up toward South, attempting to deliver a series of swift kicks to the woman's torso, trying to send her sprawling toward the sink.]
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)