fuckthemission | 04 | voice/written/action | Kidnap shifts are a bitch, and I hate 'em.

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04 | voice/written/action | Kidnap shifts are a bitch, and I hate 'em.

[June 9th (Nighttime)]

[Doyle returns from the mission and hopes distantly that the shift placed on him would be gone. It is not, and he's got an insignificant wound that probably needs a few stitches and something to disinfectant. He basically makes a beeline for his place, locks himself up (and may run into people along the way, despite his attempts to be sneaky). He'll just have to wait for it to wear off.

Yeah.]

[Voice]

Can anyone do me a favor? Probably a doctor at the clinic--I need, uh. A kit for stitching up minor injuries, things like that? Something to disinfect a wound? I'm not really in a position to go down to the clinic... If we can arrange somewhere to pick it up, I'd really owe ya.

[If you're in Community Housing 7, you might feel a phantom heat passing through the Floor 3 hallway. Also if you're Doyle's neighbors or you're above or below his room, sorry about the weird heat that seems to bounce around your place. :|]

[June 10th]

[It's getting worse. He's feeling a lot more restricted, a lot more like he's drowning in peak summer heat. Started sweating more; he takes nightly walks like he does sometimes, though more-so to escape how his room smothers him. Eventually, though, he starts to realize that he can't go to the grocery store, or the restaurant, or the item shop. Or the middle of the plaza. Frankly, he realizes he's just shoving heat in people's faces wherever he's at.

There's some joke to be made about making people want to take their clothes off, but he's too tired to amuse it. He temporarily stays in an empty house further back from any people, just until this wears off. Needs food, though. Going to the grocery shop isn't going to work out. At all.

A while later, an anonymous person pens in this handwriting:]

[Written / Anonymous]

I'm stuck in a predicament, and I kinda' need food. If anyone can drop some off at the house I'm staying in, I'd really appreciate it--and I'd owe you one. Just on the doorstep, and I can do the rest.

[If people do decide to help out, he'd appreciate it. He even pens the house number. Just don't be alarmed if you help, or even if you just walk by, that something unceremoniously warm is seeping through the walls of the house. He's got the air on, the fans on, and he's still not feeling too relaxed.

He also goes out and sits at the lake. By the time he's there for an hour, two, he sits in the water and feels some semblance of relief for once.]

[June 11th]

[Fucking hell. Fuck.

He's given up on shirts. He's drinking a lot of water, too. Been sitting in the shower at the unspecified house until he prunes up. It offers a little relief. Not a whole lot. When it starts to rain he goes outside, goes back to the lake, sits in the water, in the rain; he hasn't gotten sick from it yet, so he's not about to stop.

When the rain clears up, he drags himself onto the shore and lays there. He feels too hot. He's going to burn up--they're going to burn him all up, aren't they, those assholes?

Too hot... Ugh... Too hot.

It's raining and overcast and he's laying here suffocating in heat.

What were the odds.]

((ooc: basically anyone within a 10-foot radius will feel like they're in a really hot desert that will progressively get worse the closer they go; the heat is stifling and hard to be around. Another 10 feet after that, there's a mild heat that'll probably be more recognizable on the rainy days. Touching him'll make you feel like you're being burned. Also to note, it only effects living things. So no actual hot objects. :|b

It'll go away before anything gets too intense for him, but he's a little freaked out and anxious and all that.))

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[He doesn't swim up. Even if his memories of Panem are faded and tough to read, she had burn marks before--he wouldn't want to scare or trigger anything she'd want to avoid. Right now he's just trying in vain to keep himself together.]

It's this... heat. The malnosso did something to me.

[His limbs feel heavy where he is. After a beat he nods at her.]

Back up a little. [whenever she does, he'll start moving up to easier bank slopes to stand in; doesn't get out, though. Even if he's pruned to hell.] There's this... heat in the middle of me, it's makes people feel hot if they're too close. You feel it a little?

[The Malnosso did something to him. And for a moment, she wonders what he means by that. Is this like Sabriel went through? Becoming smaller, so much smaller, when she should've been normal height?

And then he explains in further detail. She backs up as said and watches him come close. Is it getting warmer again? She thinks it is. Almost reflexively, her right hand rubs the burn scars on her left arm. Runs her fingers along the lines of the skin grafts. The girl on fire. And if she steps closer, she feels on fire all over again.]

Why would they do this?

[He hangs his head, sinking down into the water again when he feels himself internally kicking and struggling for air and space. He splashes the water into his face and finds it's not helping as much as it originally had.

Through his fingers-]

Why would they do anything they do?

[Runs his hand down his face and gives up the futile attempt for comfort.]

Anyway... Staying away from me would probably work out better for you. Until something changes, anyway.

[For entertainment. Or experiments. Or whatever it is they claim here. Whatever the reason, it's not a good one. Not valid or fair or in any way nice. She wants to give him a hug. To try to comfort him like he's done for her in the past.

But he might be right. Staying away might be better. Easier. Especially as she continues to finger the burn scars.]

Is there anything I can do?

[He shakes his head.] S'all right. I'll deal with it.

As long as it doesn't get any hotter, anyway.

[Because he's not sure if he can handle much more. He's not one to consider killing himself, but if it came down to it, he'd rather die quick than 'burn alive' again. Anything but that.]

It'll work out.

[Even if he's not sure. It will. It sorta' fuckin' has to, for his sanity.]

[She can't imagine it. To feel that heat. That heat that's so much like being on fire, that's so much like the explosions in the square. She couldn't deal with it. Couldn't deal with it at all.

And she remembers Rick's own aversion to fire. The way he was so cautious around their campfire when she cooked him lunch. He has bad experiences, too. And maybe his scars aren't as outward as hers but they're there.

Damn Gamemakers.]

Something happened to this other girl. She was shortened, less than a foot high. But it didn't last long. At least, I don't think it did.

[He nods.]

I've heard it's... just a week, normally. I don't know--never had it happen before now. [He furrows his brow, dragging himself quietly toward the grass from the lake, being sure to keep his distance from Katniss. He promptly lets himself collapse into the grass, looking up at the sky with a tired frown.

Breathes in, breathes out.]

I'll be okay, though. I'm a soldier, remember? Made of tough shit.

[Even if he's not so sure. In fact, he doesn't trust his words a single bit.]

[She doesn't trust it, either. All the words in the world and they can mean nothing. Not when confronted with a nightmare like this.

The grass feels warmer as soon as he leaves the lake. Even as she watches him keep his distance, she wonders if it's enough. But she won't move, no matter how much she wants to. It wouldn't be nice, wouldn't be fair.

So she forces herself to turn her head and look at him. Confront the heat face on.]

If you need anything, you'll tell me?

[A nod. He's kept his eyes closed. Some part of him thinks it'll help him relax.]

F'course.

[A beat, and then he laughs. It's short, cracked, but it's at least mostly genuine.]

A couple dozen maple snow cones, all lined up in a row. I'd demolish 'em in no time flat, y'know.

[She thinks on this. It gets a little bit of a smile because this? It's something she can do. Something she'd want to do. Rick doesn't deserve what's happening to him right now. No one does.]

We don't have maple syrup right now. [But there's a clear 'but' in her voice.] Maybe the store might have some.

[He blinks at that--wait]

Really?

[He was joking, but. That kinda' sounds nice now.]

[Slowly, she sits. Tucks legs to her side and gives a serious grey eyed stare. Nods.

It's not exactly much of an offer in her opinion. The snow cone maker wound up being surprisingly easy to work. Churning a few out for him, topping them with syrup, wouldn't be hard to do at all. There's no reason not to.]

[He keeps pause for a moment before lowering his forearm over his eyes and laughing faintly. Him lying here, wasting away in the heat, eating snow cones. It's a sad image. But then, snow cones sound really good.]

I think I'd like that, actually.

[She doesn't quite scramble to her feet but she does sit up at that. Glances back towards the woods in the relative direction of the village.]

We can go back. To my place. I can make you some there.

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