Cho Hakkai (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
reformedsinner) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thegalley_tlv2022-08-16 08:25 pm
reformedsinner) wrote in thegalley_tlv2022-08-16 08:25 pm
Entry tags:
[002.b. - spam/network]
cw: eye & hand injury, likely some self-destructive thought processes in tags
[open/spam, the infirmary]
Gonou does not fight back when his punishment is given, nor when it is carried out. The Infirmary is busy, the cries of pain from the beds around him disorienting; he gets up, after a few minutes of rest have cleared his head enough that he doesn't think he'll fall, and tries to find his way to a seat away from the beds. He's slow and clumsy, his one good hand held out in front of him to avoid running into anything important. Eventually, he finds a wall, and turns to plant his back against it and sit down there.
He hopes he's out of the way. He'll just -- take a little time to rest, here, and hope that at some point someone will arrive who's able and willing to take him back to his room.
[open/spam, afterwards]
He's been assigned to hard labor at the oars, but even though he heals a little faster in this body than he had in a human one, the stump of a hand takes more than a few days to heal over enough for a prosthetic to be fitted on it. He's spending a fair amount of time in his room, practicing mapping the space, practicing listening. He's trying to keep his fresher socket cleaned and bandaged; he knows the routine, even if it's harder one-handed, and harder still blind.
He goes to meals. His ears flick with paranoid speed when he's in a crowded room, trying to track the multiplicity of sounds around him, trying to feel out the echoes of the space; sometimes he walks into something, and sometimes this means he drops the tray he has to balance in one hand. When he does, grimly determined, he'll drop to his knees and do his best to clean it up.
Once or twice, he's allowed into the yard, but he finds that space even more overwhelming than the mess hall, and lingers very close to the door, keeping his head down.
After the first week, he adds rotations on the oars. Wherever he's seated, quietly, he'll ask the name of the person beside him.
Network, audio, a few days after the mutiny
[Gonou's voice is soft, a little hoarse. He just has one thing to ask:]
Who's still alive?
... Please don't reply in text.
[open/spam, the infirmary]
Gonou does not fight back when his punishment is given, nor when it is carried out. The Infirmary is busy, the cries of pain from the beds around him disorienting; he gets up, after a few minutes of rest have cleared his head enough that he doesn't think he'll fall, and tries to find his way to a seat away from the beds. He's slow and clumsy, his one good hand held out in front of him to avoid running into anything important. Eventually, he finds a wall, and turns to plant his back against it and sit down there.
He hopes he's out of the way. He'll just -- take a little time to rest, here, and hope that at some point someone will arrive who's able and willing to take him back to his room.
[open/spam, afterwards]
He's been assigned to hard labor at the oars, but even though he heals a little faster in this body than he had in a human one, the stump of a hand takes more than a few days to heal over enough for a prosthetic to be fitted on it. He's spending a fair amount of time in his room, practicing mapping the space, practicing listening. He's trying to keep his fresher socket cleaned and bandaged; he knows the routine, even if it's harder one-handed, and harder still blind.
He goes to meals. His ears flick with paranoid speed when he's in a crowded room, trying to track the multiplicity of sounds around him, trying to feel out the echoes of the space; sometimes he walks into something, and sometimes this means he drops the tray he has to balance in one hand. When he does, grimly determined, he'll drop to his knees and do his best to clean it up.
Once or twice, he's allowed into the yard, but he finds that space even more overwhelming than the mess hall, and lingers very close to the door, keeping his head down.
After the first week, he adds rotations on the oars. Wherever he's seated, quietly, he'll ask the name of the person beside him.
Network, audio, a few days after the mutiny
[Gonou's voice is soft, a little hoarse. He just has one thing to ask:]
Who's still alive?
... Please don't reply in text.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
Admittedly, some of those Advocates were immediately demoted after violent rampages, but that's beside the point.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
"So I suppose they must all have some standard. Here, it's just time and pain."
no subject
no subject
His spoon jars against an empty bowl; he sets it down and quickly checks the rest of his tray for other food. There's the cardboard juice carton, which is extremely challenging to open one-handed, but Gonou has developed a workaround; he punches a neat hole through the top with one claw and picks it up to drink.
no subject
He doesn't think he'll ever see any of them again, so when his mind does occasionally catch on such thoughts, he might as well picture them happy. It's more than he can do for the people still with him.
no subject
Considering this ship, it could just as easily count as unlucky. But he's glad he can know they're nowhere worse. He's not very good at picturing people he'll never see again as just fine.
no subject
It could count as unlucky, but Xie Lian might say less so than before they had more concrete signs that they might be able to do something to change their fortune.
no subject
It's harder to fight for someone who's gone beyond his reach. Fighting for the people who are here with him, suffering the same -- there's very little that could stop him from doing that.
no subject
no subject