interstellar5555 | ❄ prius quam exaudias ne iudices

DECEMBER 8TH / PENTHOUSE

[Finnick went straight to bed after they got off the shuttle home, but he didn't get much sleep. By morning, he seems like kind of a zombie, wandering into the kitchen to get some food that the chefs have prepared. He barely mumbles his usual thanks when his coffee is poured for him, and he stares blankly at the table as he picks away at his food looking exhausted and traumatized. Something about the events last night have just shut him down completely, though he'll respond if someone speaks to him.]

DECEMBER 8TH / GYM

[He decides at some point that he has to distract himself, and what better way to do that than to run himself ragged on a treadmill. He's always approached personal fitness like he's preparing for war, but today there's even more urgency and desperation in it. His feet are heavy on the treadmill and he drops weights loudly when he's done with a set instead of setting them back on the rack right away like anyone with a bit of etiquette would. He's not listening to music today like he usually does, focusing instead on the actual physical pain of his workout routine. Maybe there's a touch of masochism in it for him, maybe he's just angry. Maybe he thinks sweat will push out the image of Naomi Rivers burned into his brain right now.]

DECEMBER 8TH / CAFE

[Dowstairs in HQ, there's a cafe with a window-lined wall looking out over the ocean. Finnick's sitting there with a notebook in front of him, though he hasn't written anything but a few strange words, something about the boy he saw and a trident. He's too distracted, staring out at the ocean, thinking about how it would feel to go swimming right now. He can remember, remember being in it and feeling like it's healing him, like he can finally collect his thoughts, be content despite some deep sadness in his soul that he can't name. He remembers some shallow, warm sea that can't be anywhere near the beach outside, and some girl that he surfaces next to with a smirk. She tells him, "don't do that," with a scowl that he takes some small joy in.]

What? Come up or stay under?

[He realizes he's said out loud a moment later, and he frowns because he can't actually place the memory. He doesn't know the girl, and he has no idea where the beach would be.]

ONWARD / WILDCARD

[As time passes Finnick starts to return back to his old self, though somewhat subdued. He frowns and falls silent whenever the party comes up in conversation, but otherwise he seems eager to move forward and even complains occasionally about when they'll finally be let out. He can be found all over Virgo HQ, socializing again and frequenting the cafes, restaurants, and of course the gym.]

Edited 2015-12-21 16:18 (UTC)

[ Keith hasn't had the same sort of violent night ~~(..."violent night, silent night" might be a good song title)~~ but he wakes with equal exhaustion. He'd seen too much and hadn't learned enough.

He places his mug of coffee down sleepily, clumsily. A little sloshes over the side, leaking towards Finnick's end of the table.

He opens his mouth--

drinks some coffee, tries to talk again--

slurps the yolk out of his runny eggs, leaving the white untouched--

Saying good morning sounds like a cruel joke, so when he breaks the silence, it's with a much simpler question. ]

Would you like some more coffee?

[Finnick looks up, sluggish like he didn't notice Keith come over. It takes him a full ten seconds to figure out what he's saying, looking down at the still full coffee mug in confusion.]

Mine's cold.

[It's not an answer. He's a bit too dysfunctional for one of those.]

[ He could easily get a worker's attention -- Sir! Another, and another! isn't an uncommon morning cheer from Keith -- but the people working in the kitchen feel even more like strangers. The young man across from him feels like a stranger. He feels like a stranger. ]

Or there's always something stronger than coffee.

[ It's a half-hearted suggestion at best. ]

[Finnick looks at Keith like he's considering it for a moment, and then he shakes his head with a sigh.]

No, I think just coffee for now. Sorry.

Do you prefer it cold? [ A bit more of his usual self shows through, in that dense sort of way. ] Or mine is fresh, if you don't mind the germs. I would have brought over a second mug.

[ Even if ~indirect kisses~ and ~swapping spit~ weren't both culturally/logically a thing, Keith would always be willing to take one for the team. Band. Band team. ]

No.

[Finnick rubs his face.]

I prefer those sea salt caramel lattes from the cafe downstairs but I don't know if I can make it down there. I feel like I've been run over by a bus.

It must have been a very large bus. [ He... doesn't mean to be negative, but this is an objective statement here. ] Should you perhaps go back to bed?

[ If they're being monitored now, with quarantines and curfews and suspicious overbearing higher-ups, it could do a man good to check out again. Keith isn't sure why he knows he can carry people out of literal car wrecks, but he's somehow sure he's done it before. Metaphorical car wrecks, maybe he can handle. ]

No. [Finnick's tone is resigned.] I can't sleep. I don't want to think about...

[Too many things from the night before are haunting him, but they feel compounded. It's the same feeling he got when he had that vision - the only thing that prevented him from really hurting the young man from Pride - like there's so much more in his brain dragging him down than he even knows.]

[He waves it all off, like he's pushing it away. He turns his gaze up toward Keith now, eyes narrowed suspiciously.]

Where were you last night?

In bed, and in the penthouse. [ He's too honest to remain evasive. ] Or did you mean why I was absent from the Solstice gathering?

[ What can you lose by telling a guy in your band that you met two dudes who gave you drinks and told you to watch movies, right? ]

[He frowns because he figures that was obvious, and Keith was just avoiding the question.]

It was a mandatory party.

The shuttle took us off course. We had no reception to call for assistance. [ He pauses. He'd only heard so much about what went on. ] It would sound like a far-fetched excuse.

[Finnick scoffs bitterly.]

You were spared.

Spared? [ If it didn't sound like a conspiracy before, it sure sounds even more like one now.

He has a hard time being subtle. If someone's listening to them, text is a great alternative -- but Ursa could confiscate their phones at any time, too. Blurting it outright is dangerous but it's a risk he has to take. He just can't think of another way. ]

It was a hostage situation. Nobody was harmed. Did they target the party, as well?

No.

[Finnick looks paranoid as he glances over his shoulder for anyone listening.]

Unless they were behind Naomi and Lesadi and all of us being brainwashed.

[It sounds crazy as he says it out loud. He knows it's crazy. But attacking someone with a firepoker is also crazy and Finnick knows he was in some sort of trance while he was doing it.]

Brainwashed? While we were being held, they did what?

[ ...that might be crazier than watching a guy turn into a fox. ]

[Finnick shakes his head.]

I don't know. One minute I was almost enjoying myself at that dull party and the next I was...

[He gestures vaguely, as if Keith already knows he was carrying around a firepoker looking to hit someone in the head with it.]

...Fencing? Golfing? [ Sorry that you're saddled with such an airhead.

But the seriousness of his own evening weighs on him, and he can see that these suggestions are definitely incorrect. It must be something far more negative. ]

If you'd rather not talk about it, maybe you can arrange for time off to see a doctor? You're always punctual about rehearsals! I'm sure an exception can be made.

[ because he'll hear the truth in bits and pieces from the coverups and the whispers, and Keith respects Finnick's boundaries too much to press. ]

Edited 2016-01-19 01:22 (UTC)

No.

[Finnick says it in a way that is immediate and firm. He doesn't want to sound crazy to anyone else.]

I just want to forget about the whole thing, okay? I just need a couple days to relax.

[ Keith pushes his plate to the side and stands. ]

If, at any time, you would like to talk... [ He gives Finnick a serious look. ] As both bandmate and friend, I am at your disposal. Please take care of yourself, and take care.

[ He'll leave if necessary; he'll stick around if there's anything left to say to make things better.

~~This is probably not the time to offer a hug. It seems like physical contact is a massive no at the moment.~~ ]

[Finnick's silent for a moment, working that over in his head. Usually he would pridefully protest that he doesn't need help, that he can take care of himself, but he's not entirely sure of that anymore.]

Thanks. I appreciate it.

[He sounds resigned, but not sarcastic. Can he go to bed for a week now?]

[A - Dec. 10, Late Night/Early Morning]

[Yan has been irritable and a bit less than supportive since the whole incident went down and everyone got transported back to HQ. He's also been staying up until the wee hours of the morning working on...something. Right now, he's passed out on the couch with his notes scattered all around him and his cell phone in one hand with a text message on it half-typed.

If you decide to be nosy, you'll see the message says "GO TO B" (Bed? Probably.) and that the person he's texting is apparently named "明." If you decide to look at the notes instead, it looks like he's in the early stages of drafting some sort of cheesy fantasy novel. There are notes about Roman soldiers and Chinese clothing from the 2nd century interspersed with pictures of giant dragon men and scantily clad women with too many arms. Not at all what you would expect from a serious guy like Yan.]

[B - Closer to the holiday season]

[Yan has emerged from his bedroom wearing what is probably the most eye-searing, embarrassing, dorky holiday sweater in all of creation. It's so bad, the secondhand embarrassment is probably causing people to cringe several apartments over. Yan, however, doesn't seem to notice. He's wearing it with an air of confidence and self-assurance that it really doesn't warrant and it's kind of worrisome because he's headed for the closet to get his coat. It looks like he intends to actually go out in public like this.

He pauses, probably feeling the horrified looks everyone in the room is giving him burning a hole in the back of his head, and turns around.]

What?

[ Keith, without stylists to inform his choices, left to his own devices, cannot be trusted either.

He's found an old-timey sweater that looks like it's seen better days: bright red, with horribly-rendered polar bears, it wishes you a beary merry Christmas (not unlike this).

He looks at Yan's sweater and smiles. He is 100% honestly delighted. ]

Merry Solstice, and merry Solstice!

I heard you the first time, dumbass.

[Is this going to be a thing? Please tell him this isn't going to be a thing. Keith is obnoxious enough as it is without a catchphrase. If he's going to pull this, "I heard you the first time, dumbass" is going to end up being Yan's and they're going to end up some sort of pretentious hipster comedy duo and that isn't the direction he ever planned on his life going.]

That's not very festive of you, Yan. A proper Solstice greeting should always be loud and clear!

[ Not. A trace. Of irony.

~~pretentious hipster comedy duo coming to a nightclub near you oh my god save us~~ ]

Merry fuck off, Keith.

[Is that loud and clear enough? It better be, even though he's pretty sure he can make it a lot louder if necessary.]

Better, but not quite! Try it again with more spirit!

[ TURN IT UP TO ELEVEN

(and still, he appears completely serious, refusing to accept this grinching.) ]

FUCK OFF, KEITH!

[There. That's some spirit.

Also, he's playing right into this whole comedy routine without even realizing it and he's almost as mad at himself as he is at Keith for starting it. Almost. Definitely madder at Keith.]

[

that's not very 100 emoji of you

Keith looks oddly distant. He's every bit as sincere as he was when he thought they were wishing each other holiday cheer, but he speaks in a humbled voice that his bandmates have probably never heard before. ]

I'm sorry. Is this a touchy subject?

[Yan looks at him in utter disbelief. What the fuck is going on here?]

No, you're just goddamn annoying.

[Who's this guy and where's Keith? Can they keep this guy instead?]

Consider it a Solstice gift.

[ Although able to spit out a retort to defend himself, Keith can't understand why Yan was so upset, or why he cared so much about it. The Goodman train stopped for no man. Excess, excess, excess! If he riled someone up into a hissy fit, it was a good day, wasn't it?

It wasn't.

He tries to be his old self-- real self-- the self that isn't confused with new memories and weird personality shifts, damn it. ]

And another for the road?

[ He withdraws a flask and holds it out as a peace offering. It's probably got some kind of Snowbear Special Vodka. ]

[This has ceased to make any sort of sense.]

What the fuck is going on in your head?

[Yan crosses his arms and gives him a searching look. He's still on edge, ready to explode at him again if he so much as breathes in a way he finds irritating, but he's not going to let this pass by without an interrogation. Everyone else's business is his business, especially members of the band.]

Once I insisted on a cheerful greeting, you seemed upset. Is the Solstice a bad time of year for you? [ he keeps the flask out, pointed at Yan. ] A peace offering for offending you.

[ what is going on in his head. that's a good question. something about baking a cake out of rainbows and smiles. he doesn't know why. ]

I'm not drinking out of anything you did. Have you been hallucinating?

[He's not beating around the bush. He really doesn't have time for Keith's nonsense even when he does have time for it. There's just something off about him right now (more so than usual) and he might as well get to the heart of the matter. He has places to be, but he's not leaving Keith here by himself if his head is messing with him.]

[ A bickering duo - something else that he feels in his bones is true, even without the memories to back it up. But the pressure is building and something's about to break. ]

Of course not. I'm fit as your fiddle! And my wind speed is off the charts today!

[ that last part comes out without warning, completely unintentional. he flinches and shakes his head. he's said that before. he's said that before, from a great height, being in top form to help people.

so of course he's apologizing to his bandmate. they're not rivals, they work together towards the same goal.

Though he'd smiled when delivering his... catchphrase... Keith suddenly looks uncomfortable, drinks down his flask, and turns away. ]

The way the north winds are during the Solstice. Maybe we've been cooped up too long. You should enjoy your day.

[Yan walks over and snatches the flask away from him. Empty or not, he needs to make a point here.]

No more of this. ["This" being whatever the hell was in that.] You sound like a fucking lunatic. I'm gonna ask this again and I want the truth this time: Are you seeing shit? Having flashbacks to things you don't remember happening?

[He doesn't sound like he's going to wait patiently for an answer.]

[ Lunatic. Lunatic? No, that was someone else, wasn't it? Someone he was morally opposed to -- a Pride musician?

Nobody he could remember. ]

I don't think you'll find any more answers at its bottom than I did. [ His programming urges him to fight for custody of the flask. To be something more than a holiday well-wisher. ] Have you always been allergic to cheer?

[ But he's winning over his brainwashing, at least for now. Keith backs off. ]

It's a matter of someone else's privacy, and I cannot betray their trust. But nothing has been the same since that night.

❄ prius quam exaudias ne iudices

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DEC 8TH MORNING WITH STARBUCKS

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