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ladybug_archiveIn the RP version of Breakdown, we've got to where Gin and Vodka had their argument and went their separate ways. Now I am wondering if it would be interesting to take the RP further away from the direction Breakdown ended up at for the final scene. It depends on what Aubrie wants to do, since she plays Vodka. ^^ (Wonderfully, may I add!)
The way I see it, there are two choices: one, keep it similar to Breakdown from here on out, or two, have Vodka get hurt. XD; Then Gin would have to deal with that. Gin getting hurt would not be a good option, I don't think. It could possibly push poor Vodka right over the edge at that point.
I wrote a blurb for myself, the way I sometimes do while waiting to continue an RP I especially like. I wasn't going to post it, but I've decided to after all, mainly because I like the opening narration paragraphs. XD And I stuck in a few lines from the RP, most of them modified a bit, some not at all. ^^
It was easy enough to see the body laying facedown in the snow. Crimson stained a large portion of the whiteness surrounding it, and more pure flakes continued to blissfully and ignorantly descend from the sky, landing over their reddened brothers and over the lifeless form. The tiny ice crystals pirouetted onto the large hands, pale and half-frozen from the cold, and onto the partially hidden face, and soon had the entire body covered in a gentle sprinkling of their beautiful, yet chilling, substance.
The one watching this from a distance narrowed his half-concealed eyes, lighting a cigarette. He was across the street, and the wind was picking up, indicating the arrival of an oncoming blizzard. He had to squint to see much of anything through the increasingly wild and swirling snow, not to mention his flying blonde locks, but he could still make out the form and the blood. Poor fool had probably stumbled onto the wrong end of a gang war. Or maybe he had even been part of a gang and had betrayed his comrades, and they were merely getting even.
Still, something seemed odd about the entire situation. The man with the cigarette stepped closer to the curb, almost certain that he could see a dark hat, similar to his own, falling over the wounded person's face. He narrowed his eyes, finally stepping into the slippery, slush-filled road and walking across to the other side. No car disturbed him while he did; this was a less traveled street, and that was especially true during a storm such as this. However, it also confused him more as to why the other had wandered to it. In fact, why had he himself gone there? He puffed on the cigarette, pushing all such thoughts of confusion out of his mind as he reached the other curb and walked up onto the fresh snow.
Then he nearly choked and had to quickly remove the object from his mouth. "Vodka," he murmured in disbelief.
He placed the cigarette back between his lips and dropped to his knees beside the body, quickly and carefully gripping his partner's shoulder and steering the other man onto his back. Vodka fell into place limply, never even making a moan. His ever-present sunglasses had slipped down his nose, revealing that his blueish-lavender eyes were closed. But that was not a surprise, nor was the sight of the blood coming from a wound in the other's chest. It looked as though he had been stabbed. And as the smoker glanced around the area and noticed the patches of blood, he surmised that Vodka must have been hurt somewhere else and had stumbled here before collapsing. His gun, clutched in his right hand, indicated that he had shot whoever had attacked him. Was it possible that he had been the victim of a mugging? Vodka had obviously fought back, but he had still suffered himself.
The still-conscious man leaned down, listening for any signs of breath. He cursed when he could not find any trace of it, and touched his fingers to Vodka's thick neck, feeling for the soft throb of a pulse. He blinked when he located this, and his tense muscles eased ever so slightly. He had expected that there would be nothing, but the other was still alive. Fading fast, but for the moment, still alive.
He wondered if he would be able to restart his partner's breathing at all. There was also the possibility that Vodka still was drawing breath, but that it was so faint due to the cold and his injury that it could not be detected. He also knew, of course, the old adage about no one suffering from hypothermia being dead unless they were warm and dead. Judging from Vodka's half-frozen appearance, he was most likely affected by hypothermia. But in any case, he would try to restore the other's breathing before doing anything else. That was the most important thing.
He discarded the cigarette into the snow and bent down further to attempt artificial respiration, placing his mouth over Vodka's. Though he tried to keep his mind on the task at hand, his thoughts wandered after a moment. He could not help but remember the argument that they had ended up having earlier, which had resulted in Vodka getting out of the car and storming off in frustration. He had never seen Vodka completely lose his temper as he had done then. The words they had exchanged at the end still echoed in his mind.
"You nearly crashed the car, bro, and you're driving over the speed limit! At this rate, we're gonna go out of control! The car wasn't built to go this fast in this kind of weather!"
"Maybe you'd rather drive, since you know so much more about it!"
"I want you to live long enough to completely recover! But you're going to get us both killed!"
"I know what I'm doing!"
"I don't mind you being in charge, Gin. You know I've always been just fine with following your lead. But right now you can't do it!"
"I can't? You're saying I'm not physically capable of doing my job or even living my life? If you have so little faith in me, why do you even try?!"
"WHY DO I?!"
And the car door had slammed as Vodka had stepped out into what was then rain. Gin had felt surprised and bewildered before his anger had taken over and he had demanded to know where Vodka was going. The other had responded that he did not know, before vanishing into the harsh torrents. Gin had let him go, too furious to do anything else. In that moment, he had hated everything and everyone.
Now that he was relatively calm again, what he hated the most was himself---his lack of self-control, his inability to do the job right, and the fact that he still was not back to normal after everything Portman had done to him. Everything Vodka had said to him, worrying over Gin not being able to handle things yet and telling him that he was not ready, had been true. Gin had denied it repeatedly and still wanted to deny it, and yet he knew that he could not. Vodka had known, he had seen all along what Gin had tried to hide. Gin had told him once, in anger, that Vodka did not know anything about him. But Vodka had actually known him better in the end than Gin had known himself.
He leaned back slightly as he had done several times over the last endless moment, waiting to see if Vodka would react. Sometimes artificial respiration does not work. And sometimes when it does, it takes a long time before the victim finally starts to breathe on his own. But these two did not have a long time. Vodka had already been out in the cold too long, and he had lost so much blood. . . .
"Breathe!" Gin cursed low, his bangs blowing about from the rough winds. "Don't die on me. . . ."
Vodka did not respond, and Gin bent over once more, trying again before moving back. He studied the other, starting in shock when Vodka suddenly gasped for breath, his eyes flying open. For a moment the heavyset man partially raised up, as if breaking the surface of a body of water, but then he fell back with a weak moan, staring blankly at the snow falling from the sky.
Gin frowned deeply, leaning over his partner and trying to see if Vodka could focus. "Vodka!" he said sharply when he did not get a reaction. He growled, clenching a fist. "Vodka, it's me," he muttered. "Can you hear me or see me at all?"
Vodka moaned again softly, but for the slightest moment the fog cleared from his eyes. ". . . Bro?" he mumbled.
"Yeah." Gin unbuttoned Vodka's jacket and then his shirt, and pulled out a pocketknife to cut away the now-useless bulletproof vest. He was about to try to keep Vodka awake by asking him what had happened, when he noticed the other tensing as he regarded the weapon. Gin's eyes narrowed. "I'm not going to hurt you," he said, and tried to move forward.
Vodka cried out in a panic, flinging his arms out to push Gin away. "Don't do it, bro," he pleaded, and Gin realized that the other was delusional.
"I said I'm not going to hurt you!" Gin cried in frustration, but then paused in realization. He had already hurt Vodka, with his words from earlier. He had been angry at himself, he had hated himself, but he had taken it out on Vodka. Perhaps, in Vodka's clouded mind, that was even partially why he believed that Gin meant to do him harm now, even though it was also likely just because of the experience Vodka had come through with whoever had stabbed him.
Gin leaned over again, cutting through the straps with the blade before Vodka could shove him back another time. He could feel the other poor man tensing under his grip, but he did not acknowledge it aloud. At last he had the pieces of the vest free and set the front part aside. From there he simply tore open the undershirt with his hands and was able to examine the wound clearly. He could feel Vodka's heart racing as he pressed a cloth against the injury, which he could see seemed to be deep.
"What happened to you?" the blonde demanded, his green eyes narrowed darkly.
Vodka looked at him blankly, the confusion returning.
And I made my icon today. XD I love that fancy script. I think it suits her well. This icon is appropriately from the last episode, which I absolutely adore and which made me nuts about the character. I feel a little like Meroko again, so I decided to make this today. ^^
The way I see it, there are two choices: one, keep it similar to Breakdown from here on out, or two, have Vodka get hurt. XD; Then Gin would have to deal with that. Gin getting hurt would not be a good option, I don't think. It could possibly push poor Vodka right over the edge at that point.
I wrote a blurb for myself, the way I sometimes do while waiting to continue an RP I especially like. I wasn't going to post it, but I've decided to after all, mainly because I like the opening narration paragraphs. XD And I stuck in a few lines from the RP, most of them modified a bit, some not at all. ^^
It was easy enough to see the body laying facedown in the snow. Crimson stained a large portion of the whiteness surrounding it, and more pure flakes continued to blissfully and ignorantly descend from the sky, landing over their reddened brothers and over the lifeless form. The tiny ice crystals pirouetted onto the large hands, pale and half-frozen from the cold, and onto the partially hidden face, and soon had the entire body covered in a gentle sprinkling of their beautiful, yet chilling, substance.
The one watching this from a distance narrowed his half-concealed eyes, lighting a cigarette. He was across the street, and the wind was picking up, indicating the arrival of an oncoming blizzard. He had to squint to see much of anything through the increasingly wild and swirling snow, not to mention his flying blonde locks, but he could still make out the form and the blood. Poor fool had probably stumbled onto the wrong end of a gang war. Or maybe he had even been part of a gang and had betrayed his comrades, and they were merely getting even.
Still, something seemed odd about the entire situation. The man with the cigarette stepped closer to the curb, almost certain that he could see a dark hat, similar to his own, falling over the wounded person's face. He narrowed his eyes, finally stepping into the slippery, slush-filled road and walking across to the other side. No car disturbed him while he did; this was a less traveled street, and that was especially true during a storm such as this. However, it also confused him more as to why the other had wandered to it. In fact, why had he himself gone there? He puffed on the cigarette, pushing all such thoughts of confusion out of his mind as he reached the other curb and walked up onto the fresh snow.
Then he nearly choked and had to quickly remove the object from his mouth. "Vodka," he murmured in disbelief.
He placed the cigarette back between his lips and dropped to his knees beside the body, quickly and carefully gripping his partner's shoulder and steering the other man onto his back. Vodka fell into place limply, never even making a moan. His ever-present sunglasses had slipped down his nose, revealing that his blueish-lavender eyes were closed. But that was not a surprise, nor was the sight of the blood coming from a wound in the other's chest. It looked as though he had been stabbed. And as the smoker glanced around the area and noticed the patches of blood, he surmised that Vodka must have been hurt somewhere else and had stumbled here before collapsing. His gun, clutched in his right hand, indicated that he had shot whoever had attacked him. Was it possible that he had been the victim of a mugging? Vodka had obviously fought back, but he had still suffered himself.
The still-conscious man leaned down, listening for any signs of breath. He cursed when he could not find any trace of it, and touched his fingers to Vodka's thick neck, feeling for the soft throb of a pulse. He blinked when he located this, and his tense muscles eased ever so slightly. He had expected that there would be nothing, but the other was still alive. Fading fast, but for the moment, still alive.
He wondered if he would be able to restart his partner's breathing at all. There was also the possibility that Vodka still was drawing breath, but that it was so faint due to the cold and his injury that it could not be detected. He also knew, of course, the old adage about no one suffering from hypothermia being dead unless they were warm and dead. Judging from Vodka's half-frozen appearance, he was most likely affected by hypothermia. But in any case, he would try to restore the other's breathing before doing anything else. That was the most important thing.
He discarded the cigarette into the snow and bent down further to attempt artificial respiration, placing his mouth over Vodka's. Though he tried to keep his mind on the task at hand, his thoughts wandered after a moment. He could not help but remember the argument that they had ended up having earlier, which had resulted in Vodka getting out of the car and storming off in frustration. He had never seen Vodka completely lose his temper as he had done then. The words they had exchanged at the end still echoed in his mind.
"You nearly crashed the car, bro, and you're driving over the speed limit! At this rate, we're gonna go out of control! The car wasn't built to go this fast in this kind of weather!"
"Maybe you'd rather drive, since you know so much more about it!"
"I want you to live long enough to completely recover! But you're going to get us both killed!"
"I know what I'm doing!"
"I don't mind you being in charge, Gin. You know I've always been just fine with following your lead. But right now you can't do it!"
"I can't? You're saying I'm not physically capable of doing my job or even living my life? If you have so little faith in me, why do you even try?!"
"WHY DO I?!"
And the car door had slammed as Vodka had stepped out into what was then rain. Gin had felt surprised and bewildered before his anger had taken over and he had demanded to know where Vodka was going. The other had responded that he did not know, before vanishing into the harsh torrents. Gin had let him go, too furious to do anything else. In that moment, he had hated everything and everyone.
Now that he was relatively calm again, what he hated the most was himself---his lack of self-control, his inability to do the job right, and the fact that he still was not back to normal after everything Portman had done to him. Everything Vodka had said to him, worrying over Gin not being able to handle things yet and telling him that he was not ready, had been true. Gin had denied it repeatedly and still wanted to deny it, and yet he knew that he could not. Vodka had known, he had seen all along what Gin had tried to hide. Gin had told him once, in anger, that Vodka did not know anything about him. But Vodka had actually known him better in the end than Gin had known himself.
He leaned back slightly as he had done several times over the last endless moment, waiting to see if Vodka would react. Sometimes artificial respiration does not work. And sometimes when it does, it takes a long time before the victim finally starts to breathe on his own. But these two did not have a long time. Vodka had already been out in the cold too long, and he had lost so much blood. . . .
"Breathe!" Gin cursed low, his bangs blowing about from the rough winds. "Don't die on me. . . ."
Vodka did not respond, and Gin bent over once more, trying again before moving back. He studied the other, starting in shock when Vodka suddenly gasped for breath, his eyes flying open. For a moment the heavyset man partially raised up, as if breaking the surface of a body of water, but then he fell back with a weak moan, staring blankly at the snow falling from the sky.
Gin frowned deeply, leaning over his partner and trying to see if Vodka could focus. "Vodka!" he said sharply when he did not get a reaction. He growled, clenching a fist. "Vodka, it's me," he muttered. "Can you hear me or see me at all?"
Vodka moaned again softly, but for the slightest moment the fog cleared from his eyes. ". . . Bro?" he mumbled.
"Yeah." Gin unbuttoned Vodka's jacket and then his shirt, and pulled out a pocketknife to cut away the now-useless bulletproof vest. He was about to try to keep Vodka awake by asking him what had happened, when he noticed the other tensing as he regarded the weapon. Gin's eyes narrowed. "I'm not going to hurt you," he said, and tried to move forward.
Vodka cried out in a panic, flinging his arms out to push Gin away. "Don't do it, bro," he pleaded, and Gin realized that the other was delusional.
"I said I'm not going to hurt you!" Gin cried in frustration, but then paused in realization. He had already hurt Vodka, with his words from earlier. He had been angry at himself, he had hated himself, but he had taken it out on Vodka. Perhaps, in Vodka's clouded mind, that was even partially why he believed that Gin meant to do him harm now, even though it was also likely just because of the experience Vodka had come through with whoever had stabbed him.
Gin leaned over again, cutting through the straps with the blade before Vodka could shove him back another time. He could feel the other poor man tensing under his grip, but he did not acknowledge it aloud. At last he had the pieces of the vest free and set the front part aside. From there he simply tore open the undershirt with his hands and was able to examine the wound clearly. He could feel Vodka's heart racing as he pressed a cloth against the injury, which he could see seemed to be deep.
"What happened to you?" the blonde demanded, his green eyes narrowed darkly.
Vodka looked at him blankly, the confusion returning.
And I made my icon today. XD I love that fancy script. I think it suits her well. This icon is appropriately from the last episode, which I absolutely adore and which made me nuts about the character. I feel a little like Meroko again, so I decided to make this today. ^^
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no subject
Date: 2006-09-23 09:13 pm (UTC)(Oh, and I've read one of the fics and nearly snark-overdosed. And MST of some sort may be necessary. Thanks again for sending them!)
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Date: 2006-09-24 12:44 am (UTC)LOL. I'm glad you're having fun with them! I look forward to your MSTing, or whatever way of snarking at them you will choose.
no subject
Date: 2006-09-23 11:06 pm (UTC)I adore this line. Short, but brilliant. It summarises Gin's current feelings and the situation perfectly. Couldn't have been done better, in my opinion!
and more pure flakes continued to blissfully and ignorantly descend from the sky
Technically, there's nothing wrong with this part. But I myself find it just a bit awkward. Mayb a little long-winded? It sets the atmosphere, but the descriptions of how the snow flakes drifted down seems like it could be shortened, I'd say. But then, thats just me. @@
Overall, I luuurve it! The way Vodka thinks Gin is going to hurt him is especially good.
no subject
Date: 2006-09-24 12:52 am (UTC)**ponders over snowflake line.** It was set up as a contrast between them and the flakes already on the ground, so I dunno. XD Perhaps the "and" could be removed....
**nods.** Yeah, I thought that would be interesting. Especially since it's a reverse of how Gin was at the beginning of Breakdown.
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Date: 2006-09-24 04:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-24 05:08 am (UTC)