Booker DeWitt (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
amonglions) wrote2013-12-31 12:03 am
amonglions) wrote2013-12-31 12:03 am
Entry tags:
Fourth Baptism [Action] (backdated to the 29th)
[December 29th, 1890. It's a date that's forever seared in Booker DeWitt's mind as being a day he takes his drinking very seriously.
When he started drinking, it was to forget what he had done on that very day - another solider handed him a half-empty bottle to help him sleep and the rest, as they say, was history. Booker drank to forget and to actually get through a night without having horrifying, bloody nightmares. He knew he deserved to have them but he couldn't go without sleep without going absolutely insane. Drinking kept him going on a day to day basis more often than not.
He'd done well to avoid people today and consumed far more than was average of bottles of whiskey for him. Normally he would ease back a good sixteen beers through the day, a shot or two of whiskey interspersed - but that was when things were good. Today was probably one of the worst: this and the day he sold Anna were anniversaries he made a point not to remember. December 29th was a whiskey only kind of day.
Unfortunately for the world, Booker never had the Vigors at his disposal on this particular anniversary. Being in a city didn't allow him the freedom to just start doing what he liked because he was bored and... well, call it stubbornness or just simple ignorance but Booker won't go near the Battle Dome if he can avoid it. As such, he's improvised a little shooting range of sorts - setting up old empty bottles as targets to pick off and distract himself by doing so. If he had an unlimited supply of ammunition for his pistol he would use it but seeing as how he just found some genuine Salts in the Items shop before Christmas...
well he decided it'd be a good time to make sure he wasn't getting rusty with them. At least, that was his reasoning.
Three rows of bottles set up, each higher than the other on whatever he could find outside to stack them on. Booker sat himself on a fallen log and tried firing off a couple of practice shots with Devil's Kiss to see if he was at a good range. The sound of his hand igniting and the heat the flames gave off were by now familiar. The imagined pain of it the first time he had watched the flesh drip off his fingers was a distant, unpleasant memory now - one he didn't even entertain as he formed a molten ball of fire in his hand before launching it at one of the bottles.
Or at least, what he thought was one of the bottles. The Devil's Kiss Vigor had an explosive property however, and Booker heard the satisfying crack of glass that allowed him to think his aim was as good as it usually was.
For a little variety, he next brought up Shock's Jockey*. The rocks - he assumed they were rocks - jutting out of his hands snapped electricity between their points like a whip being lashed and buzzed as if an angry hornet's nest were inside. Booker's veins glowed with the unnatural pale light before he sent the Shock Jockey towards the row - it hit, thank God. But poorly.
He was an outright mess and libel to either hurt himself or someone else if he kept this up.]
*(ooc [spoilers?] : For my version of Booker, he did not let Cornelius Slate live. That was just the only video I could find for the Shock Jockey. >>)
When he started drinking, it was to forget what he had done on that very day - another solider handed him a half-empty bottle to help him sleep and the rest, as they say, was history. Booker drank to forget and to actually get through a night without having horrifying, bloody nightmares. He knew he deserved to have them but he couldn't go without sleep without going absolutely insane. Drinking kept him going on a day to day basis more often than not.
He'd done well to avoid people today and consumed far more than was average of bottles of whiskey for him. Normally he would ease back a good sixteen beers through the day, a shot or two of whiskey interspersed - but that was when things were good. Today was probably one of the worst: this and the day he sold Anna were anniversaries he made a point not to remember. December 29th was a whiskey only kind of day.
Unfortunately for the world, Booker never had the Vigors at his disposal on this particular anniversary. Being in a city didn't allow him the freedom to just start doing what he liked because he was bored and... well, call it stubbornness or just simple ignorance but Booker won't go near the Battle Dome if he can avoid it. As such, he's improvised a little shooting range of sorts - setting up old empty bottles as targets to pick off and distract himself by doing so. If he had an unlimited supply of ammunition for his pistol he would use it but seeing as how he just found some genuine Salts in the Items shop before Christmas...
well he decided it'd be a good time to make sure he wasn't getting rusty with them. At least, that was his reasoning.
Three rows of bottles set up, each higher than the other on whatever he could find outside to stack them on. Booker sat himself on a fallen log and tried firing off a couple of practice shots with Devil's Kiss to see if he was at a good range. The sound of his hand igniting and the heat the flames gave off were by now familiar. The imagined pain of it the first time he had watched the flesh drip off his fingers was a distant, unpleasant memory now - one he didn't even entertain as he formed a molten ball of fire in his hand before launching it at one of the bottles.
Or at least, what he thought was one of the bottles. The Devil's Kiss Vigor had an explosive property however, and Booker heard the satisfying crack of glass that allowed him to think his aim was as good as it usually was.
For a little variety, he next brought up Shock's Jockey*. The rocks - he assumed they were rocks - jutting out of his hands snapped electricity between their points like a whip being lashed and buzzed as if an angry hornet's nest were inside. Booker's veins glowed with the unnatural pale light before he sent the Shock Jockey towards the row - it hit, thank God. But poorly.
He was an outright mess and libel to either hurt himself or someone else if he kept this up.]
*(ooc [spoilers?] : For my version of Booker, he did not let Cornelius Slate live. That was just the only video I could find for the Shock Jockey. >>)
no subject
I'm worried about you. [The truth comes out at last. Bookers actions remind Shu so much of how Gai acted during their mission together. So yeah, he's not buying it.]
no subject
You. Worried? Kid you need a hobby.
[Booker snorts and raises a bottle to his mouth, all the anger of the moment leeching out of him in favor of bitter amusement.]
no subject
Shu pouts slightly in annoyance because he made that association and he really wish he didn't. ]
And you need to stop acting like Gai.
wow this took forever. im so sorry
[Okay, that was uncalled for Shu.]
NO PROBLEM
[He feels a little awkward mentioning it. They hardly know each other.]
Re: NO PROBLEM
I do not -- [Annnnd he stops himself right there because that is probably the most childish thing he could do just then.]
Nevermind.
[grump grump grump.]
no subject
Sorry.
[All he can offer is an apology. Being sorry is the one thing he's good at.]
no subject
[Booker doesn't know what else to say, he's not good at this post confrontation business.]
Look, just...why do you care? Is it because of Elizabeth?
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Elizabeth means so much to Gai and I don't want to see her hurt. I can't stand the thought of either of them getting into trouble.
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[Booker drinks heavily after his questions done. He's lost.]
Far as I can tell, I'm not gettin' either one of them in trouble.
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Elizabeth would worry if she saw you like this.
Is something bothering you? [Don't say it's him.]
no subject
[Booker leaves it at that, because everyone is asking him that damn question today and Elizabeth is the only one who even got a little bit out of him.
A small part of him wonders if it would scare Shu enough to leave him be.]
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Please don't stress yourself out so much. Would it help if you did something to take your mind off it?
no subject
[Booker gestures to the range sloppily, as if this was the best he could come up with to forget his past.]
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This won't do you much good, I think. [Awkward topic change.] By the way...what was that power you used earlier? It's nothing like I've seen before.
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[Booker would rather talk about this too, Shu.]
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Are you sick? [It reminds him of the apocalypse virus.]
no subject
[He's thinking that he could be though. It's not like he's the healthiest of lifestyles, plus Comstock had cancer annnd....
Nope. Not going down that line of thought, nope. That way is bad things. Booker, unhealthily, takes another drink.]
It's, uh...It's called a Vigor. They're like...magic in a bottle. Some of them are just a little weirder than others.
[For example: Murder of Crows. Totally bizarre and yet functional. He decides to do a demonstration and suddenly his hand is sprouting black feathers and his fingernails are sharp talons and --
an actual murder of crows bursts out of the nothingness between his fingertips screeching and cawing and real as day.
Since he's not in combat though, they kind of just...evaporate into black smoke after flying a short distance.]
no subject
I was worried that you might have been sick with the Apocalypse Virus. [He's looking off somewhere else. He's never been good at looking at people in the eye while talking to them.]
Vigors must be something only you can use. I mean, Elizabeth's power is different right?
no subject
Back in Columbia, where Elizabeth grew up, they sold these Vigors like they were soda pop. I just sampled the merchandise.
[--And, just because it sounded Very Serious:]
Apocalypse Virus?
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Can anyone in Columbia do what you just did? [His eyes narrow slightly. Gai is the one who's affected by the Virus. Shu's reminded of this fact again.]
Um, the Apocalypse virus...suddenly showed up in my world ten years ago. When you get sick with it these metallic rocks start to show up on your body.
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['Course he drank a lot more than just one type of Vigor.
And suddenly Gai's offense at Booker using the Shock Jocky in front of him makes a lot more sense.]
Gai has it, doesn't he?
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Yeah, even I don't know how long Gai's been sick for. It makes me worry.
[He's sure that Elizabeth worries about this just as much as he does.]
no subject
[Which is weird, because he knows Shu and Gai are from the future. Like, really far into the future, so you'd think they'd be able to cure all kinds of shit.]
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But, in Gai's case it might be too late for him. Um...my father was a researcher. He was looking for a cure.
(no subject)