Ladon Ceto (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
justamobster) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
driftfleet2015-06-24 06:59 pm
justamobster) wrote in driftfleet2015-06-24 06:59 pm
Entry tags:
05 // Video
Who: Ladon Ceto and alcohol and self-loathing you!
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: SS Tourist cockpit
When: Post bug plot.
[ Ladon's been a rare sight lately, mostly because he's either been keeping an eye on Lucky or afterward, keeping to himself. There aren't caves here, so his instinct to hide and try to sulk through the pain has instead been replaced with his more human-like means of coping. That is, he's been getting really drunk and hating the world with every fiber of his being. If there has been a sober moment since he found Lucky's office empty, he can't really recall.
Currently he's seated in the cockpit of the Tourist, and thankfully he's not attempting to do any piloting, because he's definitely not in any state to be doing so. There may not be concrete walls or cliffs in space, but he'd probably find a way to wreck the ship anyway.
Either way, the fact that this broadcast is video is likely the result of those drunken motor skills, because the angle is weird, and he's typically an audio-only user. He's also not dressed as well as usual, gone is the tie and the vest and the suit jacket. His hat is stubbornly glued to his head, but currently he's in an undershirt, suspenders, and the pants from his suit. He also hasn't shaved in a bit, and is looking particularly scruffy.
He rubs at his chin, eliciting a scratchy noise, and he taps his half-empty glass of bourbon against the arm rest. ]
Ain't usually the type t'go givin' unsolicited advice but. [ He sighs. ] Some of you folks know, I been in a place like this before. Space station, was there for 'round a year. Anyhow. These places... they put us through some real shit, yeah? Some real... heavy shit. People hurt and get sick and die and you gotta work together to fix it. You gotta fight together. You gotta take care of each other. S'the only way to stay sane.
[ He takes a drink of the bourbon, winces a bit as it burns its way down. ] What I'm sayin' is... S'hard not to go gettin' attached, yeah? People you meet from other worlds, they ain't so bad, you make friends. Maybe more, hell if I know. But I just gotta say... Don't make the same mistakes I went makin'. Don't get attached. Because it ends, yeah? One way or the other, you go or they go. Best you can hope is you go first, and you fuckin' forget.
Ain't gonna stop most of you, I know. Gotta learn the hard way. But hell if I ain't gonna try sayin' it anyhow. Because I wouldn't wish this on fuckin' anyone.
S'all.
[ And he cuts the feed. He can be found in the pilot chair still some time later, if anyone wants to deal with his drunken ass in person. ]
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: SS Tourist cockpit
When: Post bug plot.
[ Ladon's been a rare sight lately, mostly because he's either been keeping an eye on Lucky or afterward, keeping to himself. There aren't caves here, so his instinct to hide and try to sulk through the pain has instead been replaced with his more human-like means of coping. That is, he's been getting really drunk and hating the world with every fiber of his being. If there has been a sober moment since he found Lucky's office empty, he can't really recall.
Currently he's seated in the cockpit of the Tourist, and thankfully he's not attempting to do any piloting, because he's definitely not in any state to be doing so. There may not be concrete walls or cliffs in space, but he'd probably find a way to wreck the ship anyway.
Either way, the fact that this broadcast is video is likely the result of those drunken motor skills, because the angle is weird, and he's typically an audio-only user. He's also not dressed as well as usual, gone is the tie and the vest and the suit jacket. His hat is stubbornly glued to his head, but currently he's in an undershirt, suspenders, and the pants from his suit. He also hasn't shaved in a bit, and is looking particularly scruffy.
He rubs at his chin, eliciting a scratchy noise, and he taps his half-empty glass of bourbon against the arm rest. ]
Ain't usually the type t'go givin' unsolicited advice but. [ He sighs. ] Some of you folks know, I been in a place like this before. Space station, was there for 'round a year. Anyhow. These places... they put us through some real shit, yeah? Some real... heavy shit. People hurt and get sick and die and you gotta work together to fix it. You gotta fight together. You gotta take care of each other. S'the only way to stay sane.
[ He takes a drink of the bourbon, winces a bit as it burns its way down. ] What I'm sayin' is... S'hard not to go gettin' attached, yeah? People you meet from other worlds, they ain't so bad, you make friends. Maybe more, hell if I know. But I just gotta say... Don't make the same mistakes I went makin'. Don't get attached. Because it ends, yeah? One way or the other, you go or they go. Best you can hope is you go first, and you fuckin' forget.
Ain't gonna stop most of you, I know. Gotta learn the hard way. But hell if I ain't gonna try sayin' it anyhow. Because I wouldn't wish this on fuckin' anyone.
S'all.
[ And he cuts the feed. He can be found in the pilot chair still some time later, if anyone wants to deal with his drunken ass in person. ]
Video
[There's a slightly long pause, before Wanda adds more solemnly:]
But it is also very lonely.
no subject
Besides. Ain't sayin' don't make friends. Just... don't get so close you don't wanna let go. We're prisoners here, yeah? Should be happy for the ones who break out.
no subject
Break out... Were it so simple... Perhaps though, there are some who are happier here. Those who have been reunited with old friends or loved ones.
[Tadashi's texts flash through her mind, but so too does the grim reality that they could theoretically disappear from this place at a moment's notice.]
What a twisted place this is to play with the emotions of so many.
no subject
S'how these Atroma folks get their kicks, I guess. Put us through hell, make their own lives look great in comparison. [ He shrugs. ] Hope they're happy, watchin' me pickle my liver and kick myself over gettin' my hopes up. Sure it's got 'em feelin' real superior.
no subject
Friends and family... I imagine they must miss you.