Haymitch Abernathy (quellsurvivor) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2014-02-28 22:29:00 |
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Entry tags: | alexandra roivas, haymitch abernathy |
Who: Haymitch and Alex
When: Beginning of Feb.
Where: A bar
What: A convo
Warnings/ratings: Mild language
Haymitch reached for his glass and downed it in one smooth motion, frowning when it was empty. The alcohol didn't even burn going down any more. It was safe to say he had a few drinks but he wasn't about to let it stop him from having another one. He signaled the bartender for another round.
"Oi, my friend wants a drink too? Don't you?" He asked the person that had come to sit beside him. The memories of the dreams hadn't faded so there was still more drinking to do.
The blonde woman sitting next to him blinked. “Yeah, sure. You buying?” Alex smiled, her sarcasm legible in the slight curve of her lips. Turning to the bartender, she nodded. “Whiskey, neat.”
Haymitch turned to see the blonde sitting next to him, taking her in a moment. “Yep, my wallet is open.” He said smoothly keeping his words even and audible despite the amount that he had to drink already. “Not like I have anything or anyone else to spend it on.” Oddly it was when he was drinking he felt the most vulnerable and open.
He reached for his drink. “Here’s to…” He paused a moment. “The fucking nightmares that never go away. That are always there to make life more miserable than it already is.” Haymitch declared raising his glass in a toast before reconsidering his words. “Better yet, here’s to you. May your life be not as messed up as mine.”
That made Alex laugh. “Too late, buddy.” She clapped him on the shoulder. “Sorry, already have those.” She clinked her glass against his before draining it, setting it back down. “But hell, at least I’m not dreaming now, right?”
Haymitch grumbled but kept drinking his beer. She made a good point at least. "Oi, I suppose that is the light at the end of the tunnel but you know what," he said lowing his glass. "You're still stuck in the tunnel with the damn train."
Wincing, the blonde turned to him. “That bad, huh?” She hoped he didn’t need a hug or something.
Haymitch nodded his head, “Bloody brilliant I think the British would say if we were across the pond.” He was silent a moment knowing that most people didn’t want to hear about his dreams and well, he can’t say that he would blame them either. “So at least tell me your name so I don’t have to affectionately refer to you as the blonde chick at the bar sitting next to me though it does have a ring to it.”
“Alex.” She offered him her hand, figuring he probably wouldn’t remember her name in half an hour anyway. He was pretty damn drunk.
Haymitch reached out and shook her hand. "Haymitch, the one with the messed up dreams but that isn't very specific either is it? How about the enabler and person responsible indirectly for a lot of deaths in their dream?"
Alex snorted. “Been there, done that.” She figured his were bad too - no sane person would take that kind of thing lightly - but maybe knowing he wasn’t alone would give him some sort of perspective.
“Oh, does that mean we’re forming a club or something because I think I’ll pass on that,” he told her raising his hand to signal the bartender he was ready for another round. “I don’t think it’d go too well to stand up and say, ‘My name is Haymitch and I have nightmares. Yes, the kind of nightmare where children kill other children and the adults sit back, watch and take bets and enjoy it. Hell, I even enabled it. But I’m here to share my feelings and make it all better.” He said shaking his head and downing the rest of the liquid in his glass. “It wouldn’t be so bad if it didn’t feel so real.”
“Yeah. Sometimes I wake up and I can still smell demon blood,” Alex murmured. She could feel the burn of cordite backfiring from a flintlock pistol on her hands, could feel herself stabbing demons with multiple heads but no organs. She could still taste the madness, and sometimes when she woke up she had to focus to get her hands to stop shaking. “But it’s not real. Not here.”
“Perception is our reality, sweetheart.” He told her with a shrug of his shoulders. “Things are only as real as they feel and every day it feels more and more real.” It didn’t help that this place they lived in seemed to be the world leading headquarters of weird. “Ever wonder what we did to deserve this? I swear it’s some big government experiment or something.”
“I think the dreams are to prepare us for the shit this county faces. Can you imagine not having them? Then just bam, it’s snowing in Cali, or bam, zombies or what the fuck ever people say happens here?” She tipped back another drink herself, shaking her head. “We’re survivors.”
Haymitch had to laugh. "Zombies is stretching it a little far, darling." After all the odd things zombies weren't that odd but he had to draw the line somewhere. "Yeah, well sometimes the worse part about surviving is the surviving."
“Eh. I think being dead is worse than surviving, no matter what.” Even if she went nuts in the dreams, at least she’d be alive, right?
“I beg to differ on that one,” Haymitch told her taking a long drink of his drink. Sure being dead sucked in a way but in another way he didn’t think it was so bad. Uninterrupted sleep, no bad things (he didn’t think) and you weren’t saddled with worries or expectations. Seemed pretty damn desirable to him. “To each their own. I guess in some ways no one ever wants to die.”
“I’ve got a lot to live for,” Alex beamed. She was going to save the world in her dreams, and in the waking world, she had a lot to live for. She had her friends and family, and her boyfriend.