A Sleepless First Night

[aleifr]

Who: Aleifr and anyone who chances upon him
What: Insomnia-Driven Wanderings
Where: Various places around P90
When: Night One
Warnings/Notes: Nothing at present, but I'll update if that changes

It’s clear fairly early on that Aleifr’s first night on Piper 90 would be a restless one.

Simply put: He didn’t like it here.

He didn’t like the fact that he was a dozens floors off the ground in some metal monstrosity, feeling the vibrations of it's slow, steady movements like the faintest tremor of one of Fenris's summer quakes.

He didn’t like the distant engine noises, or the echoing footsteps of boots on metal. He was used to near silence at night; gently whistling winds carrying the soft crackle of a campfire or the murmurs of a distant conversation. If a night got that loud on Fenris, it was either feast day revelery, or you needed to be on your feet with an axe in your hand.

He didn’t like that he was trapped here. He didn’t like that he’d been dragged here against his will on someone’s whim. He didn’t like that he had no idea why either. He didn't know if there was even an ounce of truth in the rat-faced man's story about the near end of the world, or what the hell part he was supposed to play in that design if it was. He fucking hated that there was nothing that he could do about it.

He didn’t like sleeping alone, either. Wasn’t used to it anymore.

He’d still made an effort, if only so he wouldn’t be sleep deprived while dealing with whatever tomorrow brings. He might have been able to find an hour or two if he was on his own furs, but even the bed worked against him. It was too damned soft, and no matter which way he lay he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was sinking into it.

Needless to say, sleep didn’t come. All he did was toss and turn for a few hours until he grew sick of it.

He decided he needed to do something. Walk. Memorize his surroundings, get something to eat, something to drink … Busy himself until sleep started to sound appealing again, really. Anything but lay around in that fucking bed that clearly wasn't made with someone his size in mind.

So he put on the jumpsuit that was given to him -- that at least fit -- and decided to walk the halls. It felt ... strangely dreamlike, honestly. Maybe it's the fact that he's tired, maybe it's all so alien to him that it doesn't seem real ... he doesn't know.

He doesn't want to dwell on it, honestly.

Anyone who happens to be awake can find him. He’s not a hard man to spot. Maybe they catch him as they exit his room. Maybe they find him in the halls, wandering around and trying to commit landmarks to memory so that he has some rough picture of the place in his head to navigate by.

He’s awake for a good, long while that night. Plenty of opportunity.

Comments

[morebetter]

Mac, too, has found himself beset by uncharacteristic insomnia. It's not that he's never had a rough night before; it's just that since he was about ten, he's been able to just drink himself to sleep. Here at the rig, where alcohol is being meted out to him on a "so you don't get the shakes" prescription regimen and no amount of whining (he's tried a lot) (for many hours) (so many hours) will get Nurse Special K* to deviate from the schedule, Mac's left to just like, sit with himself. At night. Listening to Ben snore and feeling the pressure of the walls slowly bend inwards on him, hearing his own heartbeat in his ears like what he imagines a heavy metal concert would be like.

"Hey! Hey-o!" As he wanders the halls, he notices that guy who looks like you supersized the beardy dude from Lord of the Rings. It's not that he's looking for Aleifr or anything, but it's a sign of life and the possibility of being distracted from the frustrated ennui of a night waiting for an unrested morning doing jumping jacks for that piece-of-shit Planker. Aleifr is, as a mostly unknown entity, compellingly full of possibilities. Sure, they didn't get along when Mac tried to unionize, but Mac's greatest virtue is (obviously) his benevolent, forgiving nature. Like Jesus, really. Jesus with cool tattoos.

He saunters on over, wearing his uniform (sleeves cut off in an almost charmingly incompetent way) but also the flip-flops they give people here with apocalyptic warnings of athlete's foot. The make little smacking sounds against the floor, which is fine, because Mac wasn't trying for stealth. If he were, you'd know. Or you wouldn't! That'd be more stealthier, when he thinks about it.

"This place suck or what?"

*Total bitch and wildly unreasonable.

[aleifr]

Aleifr isn't particularly pleased to see Mac. It's not easy to tell, given Aleifr's resting expression seems to be an irritable scowl, but his day had been long enough without a second pointless conversation. He's about to make that disdain clear, but ...

Arguing will accomplish nothing, and he frankly doesn't have the energy for it right now.

"Immensely."

He's never heard 'suck' used in that context before, but the context makes it clear enough.

Neither of them likes this place.

[morebetter]

God, this dude's huge. This guy must have just straight-up hoovered his wheaties as a child. Maybe 'roids? It's hard to tell with this guy's uniform off, which means Mac's going to need to investigate the next time they're all showering together*, in the name of intelligence-gathering.

"I don't know about you, but I mean, you look like you could pack them away." Mac squints up at Aleifr and tilts his head. "You want to see if we can harass and bitch at the mess hall staff until they give us some beers? If we hit the gym first, we can even grab some of those little floor scooters** to make a quick getaway."

*Mac hates the showers, but he's not a goddamn caveman so he puts up with them. The showers here are like, the shitty old sheetcake of bathing.

**Aw yeah bitch.

[aleifr]

... Admittedly, the idea of having a proper drink for the first time in a few days is enticing.

He doesn't, however, believe in Mac's ability to conceive and execute plan that's worth a damn.

Moreover:

"Floor scooters?"

zooming in a month later

[morebetter]

"Yeah, dude, floor scooters. You know, the little plastic squares with the handles that you skate around on? You can't deny that that shit's fun." Mac has the self-satisfied grin of someone who believes that they've 1) come up with an amazing idea and 2) are being properly recognized for it.

"You know, I bet we could make a really intense drinking game with the floor scooters." He spreads his hand out like a marquee. "'Roller derby on a budget'. Come on, dude, let's go."

He swats Aleifr's massive (massive) (m a s s i v e) shoulder in a gentle effort to direct him along.

what up what up

[aleifr]

Aleifr doesn't budge. He simply looks down at Mac, singularly unamused ... though it's difficult to tell if he's actually annoyed with the smaller man, or that's just the way that his face sits.

"No, I can't." He agrees. "Because I have no fucking idea what you're talking about."

'Plastic' is still a novel concept to him, Mac. Roller derby's a bit out of his depth.

Still ... he uncrosses his arms. Posture not quite as closed as it was before.