Post by Phantom on Feb 24, 2023 18:09:21 GMT -6
Rather than simply swimming in grief, Valentyn was bathing in it- marinating. Scooping all the way down to the bottom of the punch bowl. He had lost everything in the span of a few weeks. Then, he had his one escape yanked out from under him. This wave of grief was going to hit no matter what, but if he were out there- if he were performing almost every night- he'd at least have had something to cling to.
It was so sudden that he didn't feel anything at first. Then he was home: and he felt the absence. At the funeral he felt sad, but he also had to support his father and sisters. It was almost like he deluded himself into thinking that if he kept moving it would never catch him. Instead, he'd become a master at crying on the inside, without physically shedding a tear. His eyes were puffy and often red, and he'd hiccup every once in a while. But, even if he wanted to, Valentyn couldn't shed a tear. He was all out.
To make things worse, ever since he was ungratefully tossed onto this island- he could not escape the windows. Everywhere he went, every direction he turned in, they were there. Everywhere. Was this what a full-scale mental breakdown felt like? Or were they trying to tell him something?
He kept on seeing the same people- or more importantly- the same person. But he never got her name. Je-something. Jasmine? Jennifer? Jemma? Jeff? Jeff, DJ Jazzy Jeff! (Now he was just being a fool, but he really did not know her name.) It was beginning to bother him in an existential way. He felt like she had important information for him, but he couldn't get it.
Or perhaps, it had more to do with the connection he had with himself. His visions were usually focused on others, but here some of them felt more like he was seeing them through his own eyes- in another time, in another place. It was this Infinity, but it was another Infinity. He was a clown, but he was another person.
Kafele Haas, at least he remembered someone's name.
Valentyn was by no means a social butterfly, but he was the type to attract attention wherever he went- whether that was popularity or notoriety depended on the scenery. He had a flair for the offhand and extravagant. His life was turned upside down, but he could only dwell on it so much. In a way, the windows were spurring him on.
Also, he was- literally in that moment- upside down. There was nothing better for working the core muscles than doing a handstand. He might not be the gymnast that he used to be, but Valentyn had an inkling that he ought to start training again. Under the watchful guard of the dome, the ground was still nice and warm against his palms. And the grass and budding plant offshoots were a nice, medium-green. Shoots that- before his mother's death- he might not have noticed at all. He didn't feel guilty for putting pressure on them, but he did appreciate that even here- in this terrible place- there was life.
He was in... Well, he was in what looked like the most isolated part of the Free Area. The one where, in his estimation, if there were a commotion on the other end at the right time- he could get away with practicing his knife skills. He was able to practice his sword dancing in more closed quarters- away from prying eyes- and he'd had to cool it on the fire. But it wasn't like he was going to forget his sword-swallowing trick anytime soon.
Flexing his core muscles and pushing his hands hard against the ground, Valentyn was once again right-side up. There was a simple, delicious irony in his current circumstances. Before he "decided" on his face (he had a feeling that he in this time did not. Or maybe he did, and he influenced his counterparts, or perhaps they all made the same decision) Valentyn preferred to paint sad. Now he was sad, and he painted happy. Fucking gleeful. Terrible, really. Thankfully, he had no reason to pop out the old greasepaint.
Well enough of that. Now that he was all warmed up, he shrewdly glanced over his shoulder. Ah, yes, there it was! Distraction time!
They were playing a game, he guessed, but really, who in their right mind would pay any attention to him now?
In a split second, he opened a small portal. Reached in, and pulled out two throwing knives, one in each hand.
One moment the blade was in his right hand, the next, a two-pound piece of ornamental steel was flying through the air. The only evidence that it'd even left was the slight whistling noise it made, before it hit the trunk of a tree with a loud, hollow, thunk. Embedded perfectly. Right on target! Now he had something to smile about!
It was so sudden that he didn't feel anything at first. Then he was home: and he felt the absence. At the funeral he felt sad, but he also had to support his father and sisters. It was almost like he deluded himself into thinking that if he kept moving it would never catch him. Instead, he'd become a master at crying on the inside, without physically shedding a tear. His eyes were puffy and often red, and he'd hiccup every once in a while. But, even if he wanted to, Valentyn couldn't shed a tear. He was all out.
To make things worse, ever since he was ungratefully tossed onto this island- he could not escape the windows. Everywhere he went, every direction he turned in, they were there. Everywhere. Was this what a full-scale mental breakdown felt like? Or were they trying to tell him something?
He kept on seeing the same people- or more importantly- the same person. But he never got her name. Je-something. Jasmine? Jennifer? Jemma? Jeff? Jeff, DJ Jazzy Jeff! (Now he was just being a fool, but he really did not know her name.) It was beginning to bother him in an existential way. He felt like she had important information for him, but he couldn't get it.
Or perhaps, it had more to do with the connection he had with himself. His visions were usually focused on others, but here some of them felt more like he was seeing them through his own eyes- in another time, in another place. It was this Infinity, but it was another Infinity. He was a clown, but he was another person.
Kafele Haas, at least he remembered someone's name.
Valentyn was by no means a social butterfly, but he was the type to attract attention wherever he went- whether that was popularity or notoriety depended on the scenery. He had a flair for the offhand and extravagant. His life was turned upside down, but he could only dwell on it so much. In a way, the windows were spurring him on.
Also, he was- literally in that moment- upside down. There was nothing better for working the core muscles than doing a handstand. He might not be the gymnast that he used to be, but Valentyn had an inkling that he ought to start training again. Under the watchful guard of the dome, the ground was still nice and warm against his palms. And the grass and budding plant offshoots were a nice, medium-green. Shoots that- before his mother's death- he might not have noticed at all. He didn't feel guilty for putting pressure on them, but he did appreciate that even here- in this terrible place- there was life.
He was in... Well, he was in what looked like the most isolated part of the Free Area. The one where, in his estimation, if there were a commotion on the other end at the right time- he could get away with practicing his knife skills. He was able to practice his sword dancing in more closed quarters- away from prying eyes- and he'd had to cool it on the fire. But it wasn't like he was going to forget his sword-swallowing trick anytime soon.
Flexing his core muscles and pushing his hands hard against the ground, Valentyn was once again right-side up. There was a simple, delicious irony in his current circumstances. Before he "decided" on his face (he had a feeling that he in this time did not. Or maybe he did, and he influenced his counterparts, or perhaps they all made the same decision) Valentyn preferred to paint sad. Now he was sad, and he painted happy. Fucking gleeful. Terrible, really. Thankfully, he had no reason to pop out the old greasepaint.
Well enough of that. Now that he was all warmed up, he shrewdly glanced over his shoulder. Ah, yes, there it was! Distraction time!
They were playing a game, he guessed, but really, who in their right mind would pay any attention to him now?
In a split second, he opened a small portal. Reached in, and pulled out two throwing knives, one in each hand.
One moment the blade was in his right hand, the next, a two-pound piece of ornamental steel was flying through the air. The only evidence that it'd even left was the slight whistling noise it made, before it hit the trunk of a tree with a loud, hollow, thunk. Embedded perfectly. Right on target! Now he had something to smile about!