Robbie Baldwin (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
walkingballpit) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
legionworld2017-01-23 11:50 am
walkingballpit) wrote in legionworld2017-01-23 11:50 am
Entry tags:
Ain't it funny how the feeling goes away
Who| Robbie Baldwin and Vance Astrovik
What| Robbie's failing to cope with Silent Horizon (and a lot of prior stuff)
Where| His quarters
When| In the days after Silent Horizon/No Sanity Clause
Warnings/Notes| Self harm ideation, discussion of past self harm likely, present self harm possible.
Nothing was ever going to be good enough.
Robbie sat in his bed with his back against the wall. Since returning to Legion World, he's tried everything to pull himself back up to his normal emotional functioning. He's argued with teammates, smiled at doctors, asked to be left alone to deal with it.
When that didn't shake out how he hoped, Robbie took out the frustration of impotence out on the anonymous horde. He even sharing anonymously, only to be treated like a freak for saying it was part of his normal.
It underlined his opinion that talking about it with Dr. Ryk'rr won't help, but no one wanted to listen.
He tossed the omnicom onto the bed beside him. He was tired of trying to force emotional highs. The only things he's felt in days were guilt, fear, and hundreds of tiny wounds all along his skin. They're gone now.
The medical care was too advanced here, he thinks as he examined his bare forearms. The skin is pale with fine lines of new skin that stand out starkly. Robbie scratched at them, but the doctors didn't leave scabs. He could grab something, trace along the bright pink lines. Just once or twice. He could tell Vance, I guess the doctors missed a few, or ten, or twenty. He should hide them, but he doesn't care. Besides, if his friend is really coming to check him out, denial of access is confirmation of existence.
But he'd have them, and that's what mattered. He'd feel them. It wouldn't be good enough, but it would be better.
What| Robbie's failing to cope with Silent Horizon (and a lot of prior stuff)
Where| His quarters
When| In the days after Silent Horizon/No Sanity Clause
Warnings/Notes| Self harm ideation, discussion of past self harm likely, present self harm possible.
Nothing was ever going to be good enough.
Robbie sat in his bed with his back against the wall. Since returning to Legion World, he's tried everything to pull himself back up to his normal emotional functioning. He's argued with teammates, smiled at doctors, asked to be left alone to deal with it.
When that didn't shake out how he hoped, Robbie took out the frustration of impotence out on the anonymous horde. He even sharing anonymously, only to be treated like a freak for saying it was part of his normal.
It underlined his opinion that talking about it with Dr. Ryk'rr won't help, but no one wanted to listen.
He tossed the omnicom onto the bed beside him. He was tired of trying to force emotional highs. The only things he's felt in days were guilt, fear, and hundreds of tiny wounds all along his skin. They're gone now.
The medical care was too advanced here, he thinks as he examined his bare forearms. The skin is pale with fine lines of new skin that stand out starkly. Robbie scratched at them, but the doctors didn't leave scabs. He could grab something, trace along the bright pink lines. Just once or twice. He could tell Vance, I guess the doctors missed a few, or ten, or twenty. He should hide them, but he doesn't care. Besides, if his friend is really coming to check him out, denial of access is confirmation of existence.
But he'd have them, and that's what mattered. He'd feel them. It wouldn't be good enough, but it would be better.