ezra greenberg is the antivirus. (healsthedead) wrote in blackpoint, @ 2014-10-21 23:23:00 |
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Entry tags: | ezra greenberg (twd) |
who Ezra Greenberg (TWD)
what After the conversation with Lydia earlier, Ezra has a full-scale breakdown, compliments of some gnarly PTSD. It functions as a narrative, but anyone who wants to poke around and join him is totally welcome to do so!
when Earlier today.
where A corner of a beach in Hawaii.
status Complete as a narrative.
Truth be told, it was always there just below the surface anyway – and truthfully, that surface was fairly thin at that. Ezra was phenomenally good-natured, as always. He smiled too much, and was much too optimistic. He liked people and trusted too easily (even still), and he always saw a positive in any situation. He felt safest around Melissa and Peter, and was part of a trio that he knew made little sense to most of those around them. He had learned to be so much more adaptable than he’d ever been before, and he’d found ways to be so useful. In a world with very little hope, he’d found a way to not only have it but make it for others with his newfound immunity.
And yet, every time Ezra closed his eyes, all he saw was devastation. It was bad enough before, when it was just watching the zombies and the destruction they caused. It only got worse from there.
He remembered that enclosing circle of sharp teeth and grasping hands as he watched Peter hold Melissa back from returning to where he was. He knew he was a lost cause, even before he felt that first tearing bite. He’d blacked out that first time and woken up in shock, unsure of why he was still in one piece, much less able to coherently think. He had scarring bite marks and was a trembling mess, but he was very much alive.
The later ones had been even worse, though. He remembered the same feeling of being overwhelmed, but he recalled the sight of those who’d bitten him recoiling, that momentary confusion in their glazed eyes, and then the others turning on those who’d bitten him first. He remembered the sight of the ripping and tearing of skin and limbs, all before he went to black again. That horrified him more than anything, the chain reaction of watching them destroy themselves after they’d ‘infected’ themselves with his immune blood. It was worse because he knew that if they could just get somewhere safe, they could make his blood a cure. These people didn’t have to be lost completely. But once they bit him and were set upon by the others, it was too late. He knew he was too sensitive to the deaths of the zombies, but it couldn’t be helped.
It had a tremendous impact on the eternal optimist’s psyche, more than he’d have ever admitted aloud without immense provocation. Even returning to this world, shock that it’d been, had left him with a sense of despair over the fact that they wouldn’t be there to help. He’d gotten past that, though, because of the sense of safety. Selfishly, he was so glad to be out of that world. It was still stuck behind his eyelids and in his brain, but at least he could awaken into comfort and safety.
Hearing Lydia say that there was a chance that anyone they’d come into contact with could have been infected had been too much for him. Even though Ezra was relatively certain that he was not a carrier, it had drawn up all of those memories in an instant, to an overwhelming extent. He’d excused himself, gone off to a quiet location on a beach tucked out of the way, and had a full-scale panic attack. The thought that there might be more zombies to watch destroy themselves and others was too much for him, given all he'd seen before. He couldn't watch those he knew and cared for go through that again.
He’d settled down after a little while, collecting himself and forcing away the thoughts that plagued him as much as he could, and had ventured to find a newspaper and (as an afterthought) a bottle of wine, bringing both back to that spot on the beach. He drank then, sure that it’d be largely out of his system and almost undetectable by the time he got back home, reading through the newspaper to look for jobs as he promised to do, and did his best to push away everything that had been racing through his mind before.