alastair. (logicale) wrote in obliviaterpg, @ 2019-10-20 19:40:00 |
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Entry tags: | alastair selwyn, player: erin, player: lily, rook bones |
Who Rook & Alastair
Where The Bones Safehouse
When Sunday morning; early
What Alastair needs to hit a real person
Rating High
Drinking with Nyx had been therapeutic at least, but upon returning to the safehouse, Alastair felt the familiar knot of discomfort in his chest. Or maybe it was loneliness. Or grief. He wasn't really sure what exactly caused it, but he knew he couldn't go back to the bedroom he shared with his now ex-boyfriend. He didn't want to see Charlie so soon after the fact, nor did he want to know if the other man had already moved his stuff out of the room. So Alastair was in a predicament. If he were being completely honest, he also wasn't tired enough to go to bed. So, despite the lack of proper clothing, Alastair made his way down to the basement where he knew nobody would be. Not at four in the morning, anyway. He shut the door quietly behind him so he wouldn't chance disturbing anybody and stood in the empty room, taking stock of what was there. The training dummy in the center of the room was the easiest target, but not with what he was wearing. To make this a little easier, he undid the buttons on his shirt and slipped it off of his arms, letting it land in a pile on the floor near the wall. He had a better range of motion in his undershirt. He crossed the room and faced the dummmy. He could wrap his hands, but the first sting on his knuckles when he punched the dummy was distracting enough that he chose to continue without. So he hit the dummy again. And again. And again. The longer he spent hitting it, the more effort he exerted. The more effort he exerted, the more things came flooding back to him and the more it hurt. So with one particularly hard hit, he sent the dummy careening backwards so that it tipped over and fell to the floor. Alastair sank down to the floor with it and covered his face, letting out a shaky breath. He needed something--anything--to distract him, and hitting an innanimate object just wasn't doing it. |