ENTRY 003 + GRIEF

[incelligent]

WHO: Simon + Friends? Enemies?? His fellow Displaced???
WHERE: Various locations in New Amsterdam
WHEN: Late December 2512
WHAT: The many stages of a mental breakdown
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Violence, hallucinations, implications of mental illness, blood, potential descriptions of anxiety symptoms, just bad behavior in general and um... Goodness.

[Simon is not the best at dealing with change and is even worse at comprehending loss. This log will be a series of prompts for various CR in an attempt to get him back on his feet again. If you'd like a prompt, please feel free to reach out to me here and I'd be happy to plot a little something! He's lost a good deal of close CR recently, and while it's only been a few weeks of being in New Amsterdam for him, he doesn't tend to take these things well.]

Comments

APARTMENT; prologue, CW: HALLUCINATIONS

[incelligent]

[If anyone was to visit what was once the Drake-Wilson residence after the abrupt disappearance of both, they would return to find it in shambles. Broken glass litters the floor, and one of the doors of the cabinet has been almost torn from its hinge, hanging haphazardly to the wayside. The couch has been upturned as well, with some of the pillows now thrust upon the ground. Most notably, the entire set of kitchen knives is missing.

Simon had spent hours just weeks earlier, cleaning and organizing everything in the nearest vicinity, only to destroy his work once a few familiar names disappeared from the network. He stands now, eyes wide and short blond hair in disarray, yelling at his image in the bathroom mirror.]

This is your fault.

[This may sound odd, especially coming from someone who bends and distorts his thinking every which way to avoid responsibility. He looks irate, sure, but the person he imagines in the mirror doesn’t really look like the one standing in front of it. In fact, the person Simon envisions in the reflection looks a little more like this.]

You! Fool. You’ve lost your way.

[ “Where’s your mark?”

The Simon in the reflection, the one in his mind, continues speaking. Or at least, that is what he imagines.]

I-

[In a broken voice, spoken from lungs that feel as though there is no air inside, Simon breathlessly utters that faint syllable. He collapses and presses his forehead to the reflective surface.]

I thought if I just surrounded myself with the right people, I-

[Simon presses his index and middle finger together, tracing an invisible sine wave over the bridge of his nose.]

I’d be safe, because safety is-

["And that’s where you were wrong!

What is the most important thing a man can have, soldier?"]

Power, it's power, haha!

[Simon's hand hovers over the glow in his chest.]

I'm an idiot. I've been doin' it all wrong, I...

I don't need friends. I just need to get outta here. Get stronger, pool my resources, build an army, and then-

[He then runs both palms through a messy mop of hair, stepping backwards and continuing to speak to himself.]

Then everything's gonna be okay. I'll get back to the train, and my number's probably gonna be higher than ever. The Apex, it's... It's still there, it has to be.

And maybe by that time, I'll be the Leader. Maybe it'll be me.