Who: Yondu | OTA Where: Gym When: Nebula Day 20 What: Old Man Yells at Cloud (Angst over Missing Friends) Warnings: Possible violence, Probably foul language, discussions of fake people trauma
Gym
It's alright sometimes, and then it's suddenly not. It's a "not" kind of day as Yondu's in the gym wailing on a training dummy with all his energy. His knuckles are already blistered black and his muscles are aching in a way that he can feel it in each punch now. He's feeling his age. At least he's pretty sure that by the time he's done the worst will be worked out of him, he just has to let it all out. And he's not being quiet about the fighting part, he's wordlessly yelling at this thing like it's the enemy he's chased his whole life.
It was never easy, watching someone walk away. It happened to everyone on the train at some point, apparently. Maybe he hadn't made the connection earlier on, when he didn't know or barely was acquainted with anyone. But then later it progressed. Someone he'd know would walk off and he'd feel that same goddamn sense of helplessness again. Like he was sitting in that chair on the Eclector, hands cuffed behind him, voices crying out for him to help them as his loyal crew were marched by one by one.
Of course what the train did was more empty than that. People leaving it didn't struggle, they didn't speak, they didn't rage, they didn't protest, they just walked off stoic and literally impassable. They were empty, but it still provoked that wriggling uneasy failure that roiled in his stomach. This wasn't an inevitable fate like his crew marching out the airlock, but he didn't know what the hell it was and that provoked a different level of hateful out of him.
Afterwards they were gone, and people moved on. People handled it. But every single day that Soldat was missing was another day it felt like them showing up on that platform, bag in hand, marching off to an uncertain destiny was more likely. They'd been in one place before, right? Possibly they could go somewhere else, them and all the caretakers wandering around in that battered noggin of theirs, carrying their own weight of baggage each. Yondu could only hope because they were dead back home to the best of their reckonin'.
It seems like a pretty big reaction to be having to just a friend, Yondu didn't feel more than that but that was enough. Somehow they'd become the closest genuine friend Yondu had ever had, someone that deeply cared about all the little shit that made him unique and didn't just think of him some kind of criminal or murder machine, someone that could recognize his raised hackles as defensive. Soldat was nigh on family. They gave each other two different varieties of trust and letting another messed up soul like his in so damn close had been rough in the first place.
He's worn out and he takes a break, seated and dropping his head in his hands until he can pull his energy back up and have another go. He's aching for an outlet and of his two favorites this is the one he's using today.
no subject
Where: Gym
When: Nebula Day 20
What: Old Man Yells at Cloud (Angst over Missing Friends)
Warnings: Possible violence, Probably foul language, discussions of fake people trauma
It was never easy, watching someone walk away. It happened to everyone on the train at some point, apparently. Maybe he hadn't made the connection earlier on, when he didn't know or barely was acquainted with anyone. But then later it progressed. Someone he'd know would walk off and he'd feel that same goddamn sense of helplessness again. Like he was sitting in that chair on the Eclector, hands cuffed behind him, voices crying out for him to help them as his loyal crew were marched by one by one.
Of course what the train did was more empty than that. People leaving it didn't struggle, they didn't speak, they didn't rage, they didn't protest, they just walked off stoic and literally impassable. They were empty, but it still provoked that wriggling uneasy failure that roiled in his stomach. This wasn't an inevitable fate like his crew marching out the airlock, but he didn't know what the hell it was and that provoked a different level of hateful out of him.
Afterwards they were gone, and people moved on. People handled it. But every single day that Soldat was missing was another day it felt like them showing up on that platform, bag in hand, marching off to an uncertain destiny was more likely. They'd been in one place before, right? Possibly they could go somewhere else, them and all the caretakers wandering around in that battered noggin of theirs, carrying their own weight of baggage each. Yondu could only hope because they were dead back home to the best of their reckonin'.
It seems like a pretty big reaction to be having to just a friend, Yondu didn't feel more than that but that was enough. Somehow they'd become the closest genuine friend Yondu had ever had, someone that deeply cared about all the little shit that made him unique and didn't just think of him some kind of criminal or murder machine, someone that could recognize his raised hackles as defensive. Soldat was nigh on family. They gave each other two different varieties of trust and letting another messed up soul like his in so damn close had been rough in the first place.
He's worn out and he takes a break, seated and dropping his head in his hands until he can pull his energy back up and have another go. He's aching for an outlet and of his two favorites this is the one he's using today.