Agent North Dakota (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
nofortunateson) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
legionworld2017-10-21 01:57 am
nofortunateson) wrote in legionworld2017-10-21 01:57 am
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Who| Agent North
What| Canon update
Where| Legion world
When| Just after the Game of Throne event
Warnings/Notes| Canon update to the end of the line for North, so warnings for death, violence, general bad vibes. Oh yeah, and Theta's gone.
It's the kind of thing that you couldn't ever possibly hope to describe, North will realize, sometime in the days after he wakes up in the medbay with his femur knitting back into a single uninterrupted piece and his vision still blurry at the edges. He gathers that he managed to message someone when he was dropped back onto his living room floor a mess of meat and blood inside of damaged armor, before he blacked out entirely. He's slower to really let it sink in that it's unquestionable that he was the one who made the hail, and no one else.
There's no describing the sensation of empty places carved out in the back of your head, a place that was never all-the-way you and a place that was only ever you until it was someone else entirely. There's no describing the sensation of steel-muffled nothingness that takes over once a place in your brain is hollowed out, once it's nothing but an unloaded chamber and the click-click-click of a hammer striking thin air.
He's out as soon as they let him, before the quiet and inaction can drive him crazy, and even if it's a few more days before he's cleared for harder training he's back on the range, dropping round after round through drill after drill. Like he can pull himself back into form hard enough to be the person he was a week ago.
What| Canon update
Where| Legion world
When| Just after the Game of Throne event
Warnings/Notes| Canon update to the end of the line for North, so warnings for death, violence, general bad vibes. Oh yeah, and Theta's gone.
It's the kind of thing that you couldn't ever possibly hope to describe, North will realize, sometime in the days after he wakes up in the medbay with his femur knitting back into a single uninterrupted piece and his vision still blurry at the edges. He gathers that he managed to message someone when he was dropped back onto his living room floor a mess of meat and blood inside of damaged armor, before he blacked out entirely. He's slower to really let it sink in that it's unquestionable that he was the one who made the hail, and no one else.
There's no describing the sensation of empty places carved out in the back of your head, a place that was never all-the-way you and a place that was only ever you until it was someone else entirely. There's no describing the sensation of steel-muffled nothingness that takes over once a place in your brain is hollowed out, once it's nothing but an unloaded chamber and the click-click-click of a hammer striking thin air.
He's out as soon as they let him, before the quiet and inaction can drive him crazy, and even if it's a few more days before he's cleared for harder training he's back on the range, dropping round after round through drill after drill. Like he can pull himself back into form hard enough to be the person he was a week ago.
no subject
Delta flares in the back of his mind for a moment, attempting to help him settle. Divert some of that manic thought into something useful. "We're here now, right? We make the best of things here."
It's all they can do, really.
no subject
None of the target selections make sense. They never had to, he was never the one keeping track of his performance to the tenth decimal, never the one with the precise documentation instantly at-hand for which drill honed which specific skillsets in which percentage and he swipes through them aimlessly, eyes narrowing at the acceptable target of concentration and not caring how much spillover frustration lands on his own head. It's becoming the normal background noise, something that at least kind of fits that empty space.
"Do you know how I got her to come with me when the ship was going to go down? I fired on her, York." His voice is paced carefully but still tense beneath it to have to even skim over a truth he's been sitting on as long as he's been in the Legion. Sure she was armed too. But he was the one with the shield and the AI, just like he was the one so puffed-up proud and drunk on being right that he didn't think twice about just dragging her along in his wake.
no subject
Old resentments rise up like bile and are swallowed down just as quickly; he's got no time for that.
The bit about the firefight- he'd heard. Vague nonsense mentions, Tex said something at one time on the way out but he'd been deep in the engine room by the, elbow deep in systems, trying to make a mess. A distraction. Trying to secure their exit in every underhanded way he could possibly think of and in the end not a lick of it mattered. None of it had.
Not a goddamn thing.
"Gabe-" What do you say to that? What does he say to this? "Come back to your habitat, okay? Rest up. It's safe here."
no subject
He'd been planning on staying here until he started falling asleep or until they cut off his ammunition supply. And a dug-in part of him is growling that this is where he needs to stay, training or eating or sleeping until he can break himself down and come back together as something better.
But he knows Taylor, too. And this is the kind of thing where he digs in his heels.
"Your place?" He doesn't want to go back to his habitat. There might still be blood on the floor, and even if there isn't, there's a pile of small clothes and a few miniscule skateboards and a well-used loaner chassis that he's not thinking about with everything in him.
no subject
Now Gabriel knows that feeling for himself.
It's not one he'd ever wanted to share. Quiet and careful he sidles up like he used to, bumping against Gabe's shoulder gently. Years. It's been years for Gabe and he's- he's in the place York had been when North swung in with a smirk and a shield, saving his ass. "I think I've got some bitterballen in the freezer."