[META PRP] In the Face of Zombies (Nictor - Static)

[Micillia]

From The Cutting Bitterness of the Empress Ship Mission

 

[Taki-di]

The flustered confusion over Eilidh's uh, the ah, the kiss ebbed away, if left room for all the rest of Nictor's worries to take hold once more. It had been a distraction more than anything else, one he twisted and tossed around as they exited the ship and on the way down. Even got his mind far enough from the other events of the ship that he looked out at the stars and felt a trembling sense of wonder, a lick of that awe at something amazing. Black dashed with shining specks of all colors, spreading outside the window in every direction, and endless sea that washed around them.

A few seconds of breathless wonder, a few seconds of feeling lax and free of worry, but it could not last when so close to others and the sounds of the pod bright him back quickly, too quickly, left him feeling tense and strange. Glancing over the others, the normal anxiety trickled back in. As with each ship before, they had left with every troll relatively intact. He wasn't sure what to think of the group but they seemed nice enough. Nictor was completely unsure what to expect from Eilidh now, but Static has been welcoming and unimposing at the beginning of the trip and hadn't gotten upset with Nictor breaking the door down after his failed attempts to unlock. And Forger had tried to reassure Nictor, even if he'd been rather out of it during the ship, strung out and having more trouble using his words than usual.

They were off the ship now and it was okay, it was okay, they were alive and they got out.

Except thinking of that opened the route for the stress of the ship to come flooding back.

They made it out sure, but they had to kill to do so.

They all did.

Nictor breathed out an unsteady breath, going silent for the rest of the trip back.

Back on the ground, he blinked and shuffled through the debrief and sanitization, and mindlessly made his way to the temporary bunks for volunteers. He looked on unseeingly as he nearly ran into trolls on more than one occasion, still jumping like a spooked cat each time, but quickly scurrying away with a choked apology and falling back into his zoned out state each time. But it felt like something was building, his nerves didn't settle properly after each scare, his breathing wasn't slowing, he was trembling, his walk more unsteady but still he moved without thought, just trying to get back to his room.

He needed to get changed into a clean jumpsuit and put this spacesuit in for cleaning and patching. That's all. That's the only thing he was trying to do right then. Alongside that goal he was feebly holding onto was a dark insidious cloud, churning and growing and surrounding. If he let go of that goal, he would have to face that miasma and each hop gave a more tenuous hold. First it was get back to base, then get through debrief, now it was get changed, but he was running out of things to do, reasons not to sit and stop and let it find him.

There was no getting away here on ground.

At some point he's found his room and let himself in, but hadn't closed the door behind him and was now staring blankly at his bed.

He needed, uh, he needed to get changed. Yes. changed. He needed to do that.

His body didn't respond to the thought as he just kept staring at the scratchy mass produced sheets, his arms and hands shaking horribly, feeling something incorporeal wrap itself around the inside of his throat and squeeze and squeeze and yet he was s till breathing but it wasn't right.

Nothing was right.

He finally moved but it wasn't the movement he wanted. His hands lifted to present their palms pathetically to him for judgment and he stared, seeing shadows of earlier encroaching and overlapping.

He had. He'd done something terrible. These hands had done something terrible. Over and over and over.

Micillia

well uh i guess we'll have to see how this plays out gl static

 

[Micillia]

Static Charge

Static went through the motions. The change of clothes, the washing off of all the undead muck and goop that he didn't even want to think about. This was his... what? Sixth ship being Captain? He berated himself a for letting it all get to him, but soon got tired of that and his thinkpan went blank again, only the usual routine keeping him going. He stood in front of his locker, staring blankly at the inside contense. It was just his weapon, his spare change of clothes, and his utility backpack. Looking at it all, it felt... inefficient, scary even, to go into space with only that many items and supplies. But he did it, he kept going up, and he would keep going up into space, risking his life, and the life of those that went with him.

The blueblood was walking around, his eyes glazed over in exhaustion, when he saw one of his own teammates from the last mission standing there. It was Nictor, his thinkpan groggily told him. Nictor, the one he had been worried about, the one that had preformed well enough, but Static felt the yellowblood had also just been going through the motions, just like he was right now.

"Nictor?" Static said as he approached the yellowblood, and put a hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Taki-di

 

[Taki-di]

He heard the sound of steps approaching, but it mean nothing to him, couldn’t breach past the all consuming observation of his own tremoring fingers. He was flexing them and letting them curl into themselves, unsure of what he was looking for, what he was expecting to find. Like his hand would look different now, like he could still see the outline of his bo staff handle imprinted into his palms? He wasn’t sure but all he knew if he was looking and he wasn’t finding the answer.

So he was just staring, with nothing else around, nothing to distract him, nothing to help maintain the empty space that was starting to grow smaller and as it did his chest grew tighter and tighter.

He heard the footsteps, his body tensed in response but his brain was sluggish on the uptake, instead thinking this was it, something was going to happen, his chest was going to constrict until his heart popped.

It didn’t, but he’d belatedly wonder if maye that would have been better.

Instead, his body was geared for a threat and his mind was unprepared when pressure landed on his shoulder.

Nictor recoiled, reacting on pure adrenaline that rushed to overwhelm him, trying to get away and get rid of whatever it was. His left hand swung back to push, hit, anything and his other was making a grab for his bo staff, stored on his suit belt. He was on base, there should be nothing here, the creatures were in space he was supposed to be safe what was-

By the time he’d turned around, he needed to see the threat, needed to keep it away from his back, he had half rammed himself into the metal bed frame putting a good few feet between him and…

Static.

Nictor swayed with the halt in his own internal momentum.

“W-whuh?” Nictor started, brain taking a second to process the abrupt shift from idle into panic and now into confusion, the lack of a threat making tension start to drain out of him. Static wasn’t a threat. Probably. Belated the question asked sunk in and Nictor realized that he had just freaked out over someone asking if he was okay and that he nearly drew a weapon on them.

“I, uh- I’m…” He started again but trailed off as something else sunk in. He’d swung at Static. He’d nearly pulled his staff on him. Eyes wide with slow dawning horror, Nictor looked down to where his hand held an extended bo staff. He hadn’t even felt himself pressing the button, hadn’t thought about it all, but there it was.

“I-I-I’m s-so---ry, ahh, I d---didn’t m-mean to-,” He choked out, looking between Static and the staff in his trembling hand. He fumbled to collapse the damning thing while shame began to roil in his stomach. He’d pulled a weapon on someone. Someone who asked if he was okay. Did he even answer that now, it felt like he’d ruined the moment for that he nearly attacked someone, he had already swung at them with his hand but he’d almost-he’d almost-

It was probably safe to say Nictor was not okay and it was kinda obvious.

Micillia

 

[Micillia]

Static Charge

Static... wasn't so sure about this. It felt like Nictor could use a little more than just some blueblood's words. It looked like he needed someone with a little more knowledge in the ways thinkpans worked. Static contemplated finding Psykgi and having her deal with the nervous breakdown that appeared to be happening in from of him. He sighed, and shoved that thought away. He had been the commander, he had lead this yellowblood into the abandoned ship full of undead.

"Uh, Nictor..." Static started. The blueblood sighed, found a pair of chairs, and pulled them over to a corner. "Just, just sit down with me a sec, okay?" He said, patting the chair next to him, trying to make his smile seem a little less tired.

Taki-di

 

[Taki-di]

With a shunk, the staff collapsed in shaking hands. The thought of hitting Static was making him sick and he’d nearly done it too. He’d nearly swung, had been ready to, and the thought if that being his reaction, that he immediately went to try and do that? Nictor didn’t really like what space seemed to be doing to him.

Or was he always like this and space was bringing it out?

He whimpered at the thought, swaying a little on his feet, trying to get some sort of hold on something, anything in his head. It felt like it was pressing in, compressing and crushing him but at the same time he couldn't catch in his his hands or look. He could feel it, know it was there, but not know what it was, not clearly. His own think pan was fighting to keep it out and was latching onto the distraction of Static being here readily except he’d nearly attacked Static. The fingers clenched around his bo staff felt numb.

He didn’t want to be holding this anymore but his hands wouldn’t let it go.

Nictor jolted at Static’s sigh, wide frantic eyes latching onto him and his movements once more, not even realizing he’d looked away at all. Given how skittish he was right now, it was kind of an awful idea to lose focus on Static in case he over reacted again. It was this hard mix between being keyed up and trying to pay attention to everything while it all slipped through his fingers anyway.

Nictor blinked at the chairs Static brought over, face slowly scrunching in confusion, not quite picking up the train of thought on his own.

Without a second thought, without a hint of resistance, Nictor sat in the chair, his mind half wiping itself as an order was bid to him. Don’t think, just do. His throat was still tight, he was still freaking out, but Static didn’t seem mad. Besides, running would do no good, nictor remembered the lightning that folded around Static’s hands and fried undead flesh. No, he wouldn’t get far but he sort of wanted to now but he’d already sat down and committed to taking his lumps, hadn’t he? Besides Static’s was smiling? Sort of? He looked sort of exhausted honestly.

Was Static okay? Nictor had nearly his him, wasn’t sure if the hand he’d swung with had made contact or not honestly.

Nictor had drawn into himself the moment he sat, had curled his arms around his middle, could feel the staff handle digging into his side in the hand that would not relinquish it. Still, he sat there tensely, attentively, or as attentive as he could with the fog and clamor in his think pan, trying and trying not to figure out what Static wanted now that Nictor had taken a swing at him.

Micillia

 

[Micillia]

Static Charge

Static tried not to flinch away as Nictor seemed to flail, wobble, and even somewhat aggressively, grab at things. Maybe.. maybe this was something Static should have touched with a ten foot pole, not gone right up to and invited to sit down next to. The blueblood felt on edge and nervous around Nictor. He closed his eyes a second, he was probably just... getting caught up in the yellowblood's weirdness. He looked at his own thoughts, tired, yes, relieved, definitely that, but not panicked or afraid. Cool, his thinkpan was cool.

Static looked at Nictor. The yellowblood looked like he needed a squeeze on the shoulder, or something comforting, but now way was Static going to go up and grab someone so unstable. "So," Static started, trying to fill the silence with something. "So, i get it, you know? The whole.. coming down from an environment like that, right?" Static pulled at his braid, not sure what he was doing. "But, uh," The blueblood tried to find the words. "You cant just, um, dwell in your own thoughts." Static reached up to pat the yellowblood's shoulder, but stopped half way, and simply patted Nictor's personal space bubble. "Just.. talk to me, you know? I mean, im your captain, er, was."

Taki-di

 

[Taki-di]

Nictor pressed his lips together tightly, watching Static with a mild dread and resignation. It was sort of how he was always feeling recently and it’s was rather taxing but he couldn’t just stop it on command. That’d be pretty convenient. So Nictorsat in uncomfortable anticipation for Static to continue what he started. He asked Nictor to sit down, but still wasn’t really sure why? Just that here they were. Sitting. In awkward silence. Because Nictor freaked out for no reason and nearly attacked a blueblood and a troll that had been thoughtful enough to check in on him and that was just making him feel worse.

It should have been more mundane, having Nictor frighten at seemingly nothing because he got lost in his thoughts. But, if you could believe it, he was more high strung than usual right now, more caught up in the half formed paranoid and scared notions that lived in his think pan and tried to pull him under. It just-

Nictor straightened, shoulders hunching inward, as Static turned to look at him more directly. This was it.

“It” turned out to just be talking. And seemingly trying to soothe Nictor?

Weirdly, Nictor wasn’t blindsided or grossly shocked by the calm and continued sympathy, but it did give him a twist of guilt in his gut. It also took a second to get with the program and actually process what we being said and he couldn’t help but grimace and avert his eyes when it did sink in. It was, it was like leaving the ships didn’t make them go away. It was still here, he still felt that tension and fear resting a feather light touch on his skin that burned, impossible to lose or shake off, easy to forget for a moment but not really gone.

It felt bad. It was the easiest way to sum it up.

His fingers were twitching, his hands starting to shake a little.

He blinked out of the momentary daze when Static moved a hand towards him, scrunching further into himself and eyeing the appendage nervously. He wasn’t at risk of lashing out again, but he was still, well, himself about contact with strangers. Er, well. Static wasn’t a stranger but the point stood. He blinked a few more times when the hand stopped and just patted at the air in front of him? What?

The strange action led to a moment of befuddlement pushing through the dark thoughts that hounded him and left him looking at Static oddly. Got nictor to be at least a little more aware of his surrounding, pulled him from his internal funk for a second. Nictor sure wasn’t helping the conversation any, he was typically not the best at it, but Satis sure seemed a little out of sorts too? Nervous or unsure at least, Nictor was familiar enough with the signs, the fidgeting, the filler words. Unconsciously, Nictor relaxed a little, frowning slightly at this odd fact. As much as nictor might be flighty and awkward, he felt weird when someone else acted the same way. It was almost not right?

“I, uhh, hmm” Nictor started haltingly at Static’s request for him to talk. He’d try but he wasn’t sure what Static wanted? Nictor felt a wretched coiling inside him at the thought of talking about how the ships made him feel, at trying to verbalize it, at opening himself to think about it further. “Y-y-you’re r-ri----ght. I. I’m tr---ying n-not to, ah, “d-dwell” on it. A-as m---uch as I c-can.” He hoped he was using that word right. But an agreement seemed an acceptable enough response?

“I-I’m uh. N-not. V-very g---ood at it,” He admittedly quietly, reaching a shaky free hand to rub at his own face, feeling the scratch of bandages on his cheek from his palm and a vague sting. He wasn’t sure what else to say, felt himself shying away from the entire train of thought now that he’d managed to put some kind of distance between him and it. But he also had no clue what else to fill the space with, not sure where to go from there. Talk, uh, talk to Static. Nictor pulled at the sleeve of the arm he still had wrapped around his middle, idly remembering he hadn’t changed out of the undersuit from the space suits yet.

Micillia

let me know if you need more to work with nic is being awful about opening up cause he honestly wants to think about it as little as possible x vx

 

[Micillia]

Static Charge

Static nodded. The sights and encounters from up there had really been something, that was for sure. "Yeah..." He scratched the back of his neck. Wow he wasn't exactly great at this whole comforting thing. Maybe the military offered classes on it or something. "Well, talking can help, ya know?" The blueblood tried. "You know get out whats getting to you exactly, maybe find out that your not alone in it!" Static tried to find the words for what he was trying to say. "Um, like, well if you know someone else is feeling the same, its less... lonely?"

Static went silent for a bit. Maybe that's not what Nictor wanted at all. "Or, maybe i can talk to some people. Pull some strings and get you less, um, stressful missions."

Taki-di