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6. open spam + art therapy
Mar. 20th, 2014 12:29 am[Open spam in the Infirmary]
[In the days since the end of breach, Dillon has been in the infirmary more-or-less around the clock, patching people up, fetching and carrying, and making sure everyone who's tolling is fed if they eat and as comfortable as they can be. He drinks ridiculous amounts of coffee and has learned to reverse his own exhaustion. This will come in handy if he ever manages to go to college. When it's quiet, to keep himself awake, he sketches on the backs of patient charts, surreal intricate cityscapes that converge, impressionist-style, into a beating heart, a half-lidded eye, an open palm.]
[Public, video.]
[He's still in the infirmary, still weary and surrounded by a flock of old coffee cups. He's fairly coherent, considering.]
...so, before we went all spaceships and lasers, our resident cannibal did an art show. Remember that? And it was spiteful and gross, yes, but I've been thinking, it wasn't actually a terrible idea. I mean, art therapy is a real thing, right? Lord knows most of us could use some and are also terrible with the talking kind. The art room could be, should be more than just a thing that's there when we're bored.
But sometimes it feels like...pointless, to make things just for yourself. Or maudlin or whatever. So I thought it could be a thing, if people wanted to, a bunch of us could draw stuff - or paint or smash plates and glue the shards together or whatever you want - and we could collect it and show a bunch of it together, so that all the attention wasn't just on one person, but we'd still get to...get it out, a little, outside of ourselves.
Would anybody else want to do something like that?
[Private to Elsa, backdated to the first or second day back]
Hey, so. You come through okay?
[Private separately to Nathan and Iris.]
...I felt like the whole world.
[He doesn't really know how to deal with that. Help.]
[In the days since the end of breach, Dillon has been in the infirmary more-or-less around the clock, patching people up, fetching and carrying, and making sure everyone who's tolling is fed if they eat and as comfortable as they can be. He drinks ridiculous amounts of coffee and has learned to reverse his own exhaustion. This will come in handy if he ever manages to go to college. When it's quiet, to keep himself awake, he sketches on the backs of patient charts, surreal intricate cityscapes that converge, impressionist-style, into a beating heart, a half-lidded eye, an open palm.]
[Public, video.]
[He's still in the infirmary, still weary and surrounded by a flock of old coffee cups. He's fairly coherent, considering.]
...so, before we went all spaceships and lasers, our resident cannibal did an art show. Remember that? And it was spiteful and gross, yes, but I've been thinking, it wasn't actually a terrible idea. I mean, art therapy is a real thing, right? Lord knows most of us could use some and are also terrible with the talking kind. The art room could be, should be more than just a thing that's there when we're bored.
But sometimes it feels like...pointless, to make things just for yourself. Or maudlin or whatever. So I thought it could be a thing, if people wanted to, a bunch of us could draw stuff - or paint or smash plates and glue the shards together or whatever you want - and we could collect it and show a bunch of it together, so that all the attention wasn't just on one person, but we'd still get to...get it out, a little, outside of ourselves.
Would anybody else want to do something like that?
[Private to Elsa, backdated to the first or second day back]
Hey, so. You come through okay?
[Private separately to Nathan and Iris.]
...I felt like the whole world.
[He doesn't really know how to deal with that. Help.]
