A new year and a fresh start

[stockingfeats]

Yes, it's that time of year, time to set yourself to a strict regimen of self-improvement and wild optimism about your own sense of discipline. Whether it's a plan to eat 5 fresh fruits and vegetables a day, to be more emotionally honest, or to stop letting that demon in your head use your body to go on murderous rampages, declare it before one and all.

1. Post your character!
2. In your character's toplevel, write down one or more New Years' resolutions that they will really, really try to follow.
3. Tag around and commentate!

Comments

To reach out to others when I need help.

[spaghettification]

Especially those who might actually respond positively, perhaps those outside Talon...

[gloriousthorn]

That's one of the hardest things to learn how to do, especially when older. It's an admirable goal.

[spaghettification]

Thank you.

I don’t feel like my age has been the most significant barrier, though. It’s more trusting my mind and knowing that my need for help is based in reality.

[gloriousthorn]

Mmm. Has that been the issue often? Second-guessing yourself, or feeling like your perceptions might not be correct?

[spaghettification]

[Siebren lets out a strangled sound that absolutely isn’t a laugh, but might have been one in another universe.]

Every single day.

[gloriousthorn]

Sounds like reaching out to others for help is especially important in that case.

[spaghettification]

Certainly. If it had people I trusted in my life, perhaps I would.

[Order of operations is a problem here.]

[gloriousthorn]

Ah. That does make it more difficult.

[spaghettification]

And the other part of it is that my traumatic brain injury makes it hard to know who to trust sometimes. Paranoia and auditory hallucinations are common, for me.

[Okay, going mad from the revelation being exposed to a black hole directly totally counts as a traumatic brain injury, right?]

[gloriousthorn]

[ . . . ]

You have at least gotten treatment for that, correct?

[spaghettification]

Does being locked up in a secret government facility for years while you're poked and prodded and analyzed and often sedated to keep you from being a danger count as getting treatment?

[gloriousthorn]

[ There is a pointed silence and shuttering of expression. Inhale, exhale. ]

No. It does not. Not even remotely.

[spaghettification]

Alright. How about being broken out of that incarceration by a terrorist organization and being “observed” by a geneticist with a penchant for experimenting on herself? Does that count either? What if they’re using you as a living weapon?

[Anger is seeping into his tone of voice. He doesn’t know how to go about getting help, and everyone who’s pretended to try has abused him in one way or the other. And he’s swimming through syrup with a mind that’s unreliable, but he knows it’s all wrong.

And yet, his resolution is to somehow find a way to reach out to someone to get help.]

[gloriousthorn]

[ Through gritted teeth. ]

No. It does not. You are a person, not a weapon.

[spaghettification]

Then, no, I have not received treatment.

[As he grows more agitated, nearby objects that aren’t secured begin to float. Coffee mug, pens, books.]

[gloriousthorn]

[ It isn't like Wren can blame him for the agitation. It stirs their own fury, as injustice always does, the anger they struggle to keep a hold on that has been a constant battle their whole life.

Breathe.

They reach out to put a hand on Sigma's arm, calm, steady, voice gentle but firm. ]

Hey. Breathe with me, okay?

[ They do the 4-7-8 breathing exercises for him to follow along with. In, hold, out. ]

[spaghettification]

[Its a struggle for him, to concentrate on her voice and control his breathing. It takes longer than it would for most of her patients, but eventually he settles, and so do the things he’d floated without even trying.

(He himself remains floating, but there’s an additional reason for that: it’s easier on arthritic joints than letting his body have weight.)]

Thank you. I’m sorry for the outburst, it will probably happen again.

[gloriousthorn]

[ Wren shrugs, just as steady and outwardly calm as when they started. They don't mind the floating, either. If it makes him more comfortable that's what matters. They enjoy it themselves, they're just far more accustomed to hiding their own abilities as much as possible until absolutely necessary not to. ]

You didn't light anything on fire. It's hardly an outburst.

[spaghettification]

[He pinches the bridge of his nose, taking one more deep breath.]

Fire is outside my purview. Flinging things at you was more likely. Though, ahm. Lifting people up high and dropping them is also pretty devastating. Easier outside than in an office.

[gloriousthorn]

Well, I'm very good at dodging.

[ That's putting it mildly. ]

There's nothing wrong with getting upset at your situation. It's objectively fucked up.

[ They won't bother giving a lecture on 'obviously you should try to not hurt others not responsible with your outbursts' since it seems he's very aware of the danger and is trying his best not to given the tools at his disposal. Which are basically none, thanks to having no help. ]

[spaghettification]

Would you like the story from the beginning? It might make more sense with even more context.

[gloriousthorn]

If you're comfortable sharing, yes.

[spaghettification]

[There’s almost a vague confusion, at the idea his comfort matters in any of this. He pauses for just a moment, then shakes his head and begins to speak.]

I am…I was…an astrophysicist, specializing in the study of gravity. I’d done work at Horizon Lunar Colony with Dr. Winston, before being transferred to the ISS to continue my series of experiments. But something went wrong and I was exposed directly to a micro black hole, mind and body. It broke me, mind and body.

I was evacuated, of course, but no one knew what to do with me, especially early on when I was even more volatile than I am now. So they tucked me away and hid all the records.

[gloriousthorn]

That is, if you'll forgive my bluntless, incredibly fucked up.

[ Then, to make sure they know specifically what they mean- ]

How they treated you in the aftermath.

[spaghettification]

Yes, it is. But I think what fucks me up is not being able to trust my mind, when it has always been what I’m known for. I feel like a racehorse with four broken legs. I know what I am for, and it’s not within my reach anymore.

The group I work for now, they humor me. I have a lab environment to work in. But it is hardly the same.

[This may be a sign of some underlying issues even before the incident. The struggle of a high achiever who felt that said achievement was the whole point of life. Even if a black hole hadn’t gotten him, burnout would have eventually.]