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Entry tags:
this fight he cannot win
[ Forward dated to Wednesday ]
[ clinic filter ]
[ Gwaine opens and closes his fist. The needle is stuck to his hand with some sticky white bandages. He cannot remember doing it, but apparently he tried to rip it out more than once. Finally, they practically bound his entire hand stiff.
He itches to get out of the bed, but the last time he tried he felt so weak and dizzy he almost collapsed. His head feels a lot clearer now, but his body is still heavy. Gwaine had been sleeping for the past few days. Not castle-induced, he'd been told, but drug-induced. To treat him for withdrawal, they'd said. He hadn't understood much of the explanation, but he got the gist. He drank too much; it was bad for him; stopping like he did could have killed him; resuming would probably eventually kill him.
Didn't seem like he could win any way he looked at it.
He returns to picking at the tapes. They left a dark grey sticky mark that does not come off no matter how much he rubs at it. Finally, he gives up and returns to staring out the windows. He catches sight of the journal out of the corner of his eye. Picking it up, he flips it open. Gwaine stops breathing.
The damn thing recorded him when he was out with his daughter and her sister.
Gwaine hurls it away from him. ]
[ room filter ]
[ Sneaking out of the clinic was almost ridiculously easy. He had half a mind to flee into the town and as far as he can get from the castle in his current state. Instead he is in front of Morgana's door. Gwaine has no idea what brought him here. No, that's a lie. He knows why he is here. He hates himself and feels like death warmed over so why shouldn't he seek out the one person here who can destroy him with a flash of green eyes?
She is dangerous. She does not need magic or steel. She is a weapon. A knife from her words to her body twisting in your wound as you already lay on the ground bleeding. Smooth and cold and sharp and beauteous. There are no happy endings. This isn't a song. And yet.
Vindictiveness lines in his actions as well. She will not want to see him. Some small and spiteful part of him wants her unhappy, wants her to feel even a shadow of what he does, wants to know he can drive her mad as she does him.
A smaller piece just wants to see her.
He is weak and she is vicious and this is treason and he will pay for this and yet. And yet. ]
[ Jo ]
I, uh...I need a place to lie low for a few days. Know of a good one?
[ clinic filter ]
[ Gwaine opens and closes his fist. The needle is stuck to his hand with some sticky white bandages. He cannot remember doing it, but apparently he tried to rip it out more than once. Finally, they practically bound his entire hand stiff.
He itches to get out of the bed, but the last time he tried he felt so weak and dizzy he almost collapsed. His head feels a lot clearer now, but his body is still heavy. Gwaine had been sleeping for the past few days. Not castle-induced, he'd been told, but drug-induced. To treat him for withdrawal, they'd said. He hadn't understood much of the explanation, but he got the gist. He drank too much; it was bad for him; stopping like he did could have killed him; resuming would probably eventually kill him.
Didn't seem like he could win any way he looked at it.
He returns to picking at the tapes. They left a dark grey sticky mark that does not come off no matter how much he rubs at it. Finally, he gives up and returns to staring out the windows. He catches sight of the journal out of the corner of his eye. Picking it up, he flips it open. Gwaine stops breathing.
The damn thing recorded him when he was out with his daughter and her sister.
Gwaine hurls it away from him. ]
[ room filter ]
[ Sneaking out of the clinic was almost ridiculously easy. He had half a mind to flee into the town and as far as he can get from the castle in his current state. Instead he is in front of Morgana's door. Gwaine has no idea what brought him here. No, that's a lie. He knows why he is here. He hates himself and feels like death warmed over so why shouldn't he seek out the one person here who can destroy him with a flash of green eyes?
She is dangerous. She does not need magic or steel. She is a weapon. A knife from her words to her body twisting in your wound as you already lay on the ground bleeding. Smooth and cold and sharp and beauteous. There are no happy endings. This isn't a song. And yet.
Vindictiveness lines in his actions as well. She will not want to see him. Some small and spiteful part of him wants her unhappy, wants her to feel even a shadow of what he does, wants to know he can drive her mad as she does him.
A smaller piece just wants to see her.
He is weak and she is vicious and this is treason and he will pay for this and yet. And yet. ]
[ Jo ]
I, uh...I need a place to lie low for a few days. Know of a good one?