klaus hargreeves (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
substances) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sixthiterationlogs2019-03-24 10:08 pm
substances) wrote in sixthiterationlogs2019-03-24 10:08 pm
[open] i want to live where soul meets body
WHO: Klaus Hargreeves
WHERE: Bunker, North Village Inn, Hot Springs; wherever else/wildcard
WHEN: Late March
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: Possibly mentions of substance abuse and violence; nudity in the hot springs thread. Spoilers for The Umbrella Academy. Warning for pretentious lyrics-header usage.
WHERE: Bunker, North Village Inn, Hot Springs; wherever else/wildcard
WHEN: Late March
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: Possibly mentions of substance abuse and violence; nudity in the hot springs thread. Spoilers for The Umbrella Academy. Warning for pretentious lyrics-header usage.
👻 let the sun wrap its arms around me (bunker; closed to Diego Hargreeves)
Klaus wakes up all at once, in a rush, his eyes snapping open and his lips parting as he sucks in a deep gasp of breath.
"No no no no nonononono...."
He's not screaming, just moaning over and over again, head swiveling in a sort of panic, trying to move his arms and legs, groggy and disoriented. All he's aware of is that he's in some kind of tube, standing up, the walls closing in around him, the darkness like a physical thing that's trying to claw its way down his throat and around his eyeballs and into his ears until he's blind and deaf and mute and nothing exists but the pressure and the screaming of the dead. He remembers this from the crypt, closed in the dark, the smell of death and the whispers, the voices saying his name, calling him, a perpetual reminder of mortality. Gut clenching, lungs seizing, he squirms until he can get his arms up, hands closing into fists, and he starts pounding at the walls around him, kicking with his feet.
"Let me out! Help, someone help!"
It claws its way out his throat, and the dullness of the echo makes him think that no one can hear him, no one can hear him and he's going to suffocate alone in the dark surrounded by dead people. He stops speaking for a moment, and the only sounds in the tube are his own breathing - short, shallow breaths pulled through a partly open mouth - and a series of small whimpers that he recognizes intimately as his own. It's only a flash of a moment before he can't bear it anymore and starts shouting and crying, and he can feel the tears running down his cheeks as he pounds at the unforgiving metal in front of him, slamming fists against it until he feels stings of pain on his knuckles. Keeps going anyway, because he's never been afraid to bleed a little.
The panic is too thick in his throat and his brain for him to notice that he can't hear or see the dead around him.
"No no no no nonononono...."
He's not screaming, just moaning over and over again, head swiveling in a sort of panic, trying to move his arms and legs, groggy and disoriented. All he's aware of is that he's in some kind of tube, standing up, the walls closing in around him, the darkness like a physical thing that's trying to claw its way down his throat and around his eyeballs and into his ears until he's blind and deaf and mute and nothing exists but the pressure and the screaming of the dead. He remembers this from the crypt, closed in the dark, the smell of death and the whispers, the voices saying his name, calling him, a perpetual reminder of mortality. Gut clenching, lungs seizing, he squirms until he can get his arms up, hands closing into fists, and he starts pounding at the walls around him, kicking with his feet.
"Let me out! Help, someone help!"
It claws its way out his throat, and the dullness of the echo makes him think that no one can hear him, no one can hear him and he's going to suffocate alone in the dark surrounded by dead people. He stops speaking for a moment, and the only sounds in the tube are his own breathing - short, shallow breaths pulled through a partly open mouth - and a series of small whimpers that he recognizes intimately as his own. It's only a flash of a moment before he can't bear it anymore and starts shouting and crying, and he can feel the tears running down his cheeks as he pounds at the unforgiving metal in front of him, slamming fists against it until he feels stings of pain on his knuckles. Keeps going anyway, because he's never been afraid to bleed a little.
The panic is too thick in his throat and his brain for him to notice that he can't hear or see the dead around him.
👻 where i send my thoughts to far-off destinations (north village inn; ota)
A day to recuperate and fight off his demons - figuratively, of course, because ever since he arrived, he hasn't seen a single member of the dead - and Klaus is back in fighting form, or at least as close to fighting form as he ever is. Sharing a house with Diego is all well and good, but sticking around and socializing only with his siblings has never been Klaus' style. Other people, that's what he thinks might breathe a bit of energy into his life, especially now that he's not worried about seeing the terrifying, painful last moments of strangers' lives, put on loop with a soundtrack of screaming and shouting and jabbering and endless endless explaining. It may sound overly optimistic, but the living are much more tolerable than the dead.
And so Klaus has dragged a chair into the front room at the inn, which seems one of the more likely places to meet new and interesting people, and is lying on his back in front of the fireplace, dressed in his violet scrubs, legs propped up on the seat of the chair in front of him. Alternating between looking at the fire, the ceiling, and towards any sound resembling other people coming in, he rests, eating a piece of fruit as slowly as he can. Funny how good things taste when you're sober.
The moment he hears someone coming in, he'll be looking over toward the noise with his brows raised, head turning lazily, mouth curving into a crooked smile.
"Well, hello there. Why don't you join me? I've been saving a seat for you."
With that, he pulls his legs off the chair and sits up to greet his company, legs crossed, grinning.
And so Klaus has dragged a chair into the front room at the inn, which seems one of the more likely places to meet new and interesting people, and is lying on his back in front of the fireplace, dressed in his violet scrubs, legs propped up on the seat of the chair in front of him. Alternating between looking at the fire, the ceiling, and towards any sound resembling other people coming in, he rests, eating a piece of fruit as slowly as he can. Funny how good things taste when you're sober.
The moment he hears someone coming in, he'll be looking over toward the noise with his brows raised, head turning lazily, mouth curving into a crooked smile.
"Well, hello there. Why don't you join me? I've been saving a seat for you."
With that, he pulls his legs off the chair and sits up to greet his company, legs crossed, grinning.
👻 a melody softly soaring through my atmosphere (hot springs; ota; nudity)
It had taken a few days to find the hot springs, but once he'd found them, he'd decided that this is where he wants to exist for as long as possible. Back home it had been a rough week (plus 10 months), he'd been beaten and bruised and battered, had a multitude of injuries from his time in Vietnam, and every muscle in his body had been sore, aching. The bathtub at the Academy hadn't done him much good, he hadn't had much time to use it and most of it had been interrupted by painful memories, grief and tears, flashbacks and the sounds of helicopters, gunshots, the screams of the dead...
Not really relaxing.
These hot springs, though, they're on a whole other level. The bruises are gone, the scrapes have healed, the soreness is melting out of every muscle, and Klaus is lying on his back in the spring, with his eyes closed and every part of his body except his face blissfully submerged. At the edge of the spring, on a dry rock, sits a wad of his clothing - violet scrubs, socks, hiking boots, and notably a pair of white briefs draped over the top. If you're going to bathe, why wear clothes, after all?
If his head comes far enough out of the water to actually hear someone approaching, the only response will be a half-mumbled, half-moaned question:
"Five more minutes? Please?"
Not really relaxing.
These hot springs, though, they're on a whole other level. The bruises are gone, the scrapes have healed, the soreness is melting out of every muscle, and Klaus is lying on his back in the spring, with his eyes closed and every part of his body except his face blissfully submerged. At the edge of the spring, on a dry rock, sits a wad of his clothing - violet scrubs, socks, hiking boots, and notably a pair of white briefs draped over the top. If you're going to bathe, why wear clothes, after all?
If his head comes far enough out of the water to actually hear someone approaching, the only response will be a half-mumbled, half-moaned question:
"Five more minutes? Please?"
👻 in my head there's a greyhound station (wildcard; ota)
Klaus is going to be out and about at various places, if you have an idea for one, hit me up on plurk at ![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
caffemisto, discord at coffee #6251, or by PM to this journal and I'll write you something up! Alternately, fling me a surprise starter and I'll roll with the punches.
sorry for the delay I got eaten by a migraine
Klaus cracks a smile.
"Oh feel free, make yourself at home."
Lifting a hand, he gestures vaguely and loopily at the rest of the spring where the other guy has chosen to settle, and turns, hooking one foot under his butt while the other stretches out, luxuriously.
"I prefer to share, personally. Being naked alone is never as fun as being naked with someone else."
no problem, been in a bad place myself lately
"You're not wrong about that," Nida agrees with the stranger, more out of habit than out of an actual agreement at the moment. Too much practice at flirting, it was too rote in his line of work, to even think about what he said. How it could be construed. It's just habit, one he had gotten back into in the last year and a half, and would probably hate himself for later. "Granted, heat is its own reward."
I hope it gets better <3
It also doesn't hurt that he flirts back. Leaning his elbows on the edge of the spring, Klaus regards the other guy. Not that it's going to go much of anywhere because he's still in love with Dave, is going to be in love with Dave for the rest of his life, it's still nice to get a little attention.
"Mmph, yeah you've got that right. I thought the bath back at home was great, this one really takes the cake, you know?"
Sliding further down in the water, he looks up at the sky, lets his hair get soaking wet and then pushes fingers back through it, sighing contentedly.
"I'm Klaus, by the way. Pleasure to make your acquaintance."
no subject
Can he live here? Should live here. But the food places are all so far away.
"Nida, and the pleasure is all mine. Haven't seen you around before, Klaus. I'm certain I would remember you if I had."
Which is more to say that he's good with faces than to continue the unintentional flirting.
no subject
"Yep. Brand spankin' new. Just clawed my way out of the good ol' iron coffin thanks to my brother and I'm still getting over the shakes. You been here a while?"
no subject
Half a year of his life lost to this place. How was he to come to terms with that? This wasn't what he'd signed up for, but in some ways it was a good thing anyway. Better than being home. Still, wait...
"Brother? You have family here? That's... not common. Only one I can think of off the top of my head are the twins."
no subject
He waves a hand, and laughs, as if he could brush it off, then sinks lower into the water and sighs deeply. The comment about his brother catches his attention, though, and he sits up a bit.
"Really? Man, it figures. Of course we end up in the same place." A spiteful little laugh at his own bad luck, and then, "Twins?"
no subject
It's a small enough set of villages that he knows he's run into most people, even if only in passing.
Still he smirks, no, smiles warmly at the word twins. "Billy Kaplan and Tommy Shepherd. Yes their names are different but they are still twins."