Charon (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
andiwillfollow) wrote2014-05-22 09:51 pm
andiwillfollow) wrote2014-05-22 09:51 pm
Headcanon drabbles
So yeah that's it. They're not going to be in any particular order or anything.
So yeah that's it. They're not going to be in any particular order or anything.
Charon's name/First encounter with those who brainwashed him
He couldn’t bring himself to will his eyes open. Every time he tried they were forced shut by a blinding light prodding his eyeballs with such intensity he thought he would go blind. It wasn’t until he raised his arm to push away whatever light was being shined in his face when he realized just how much pain he was in.
When his arm fell back to his sides he heard an amused chuckle, distant yet close by.
“Shit man, you’re right. He’s alive.”
He had been moments away from death, alone and in pain, and yet the voice was of no comfort to him. He had been found, but judging by the light-heartedness of the man’s words and the accumulative chuckles that seemed to surround him, he wasn’t out of the woods yet. These men, something wasn’t right, and even he could tell that in his dying state.
He managed to speak, but the voice that came out didn’t sound like his own; it was raspy and barely audible. “Who’re...who’re you?”
“Nope, nuh-uh. You don’t get to ask questions.”
Fuck.
“Why’re we wasting our time here? Guy is bleeding to death, man.” His next words were spoken as if one would have to be an idiot not to realize. “He’s not gonna make it.”
“He’s a big guy,” the first man dismissed him as if he didn’t know what he was talking about, “he’ll be fine. Useful.”
“Ah, gotcha.”
What that meant, he didn’t know and he didn’t want to find out. It was in that moment of adrenaline pumping through his veins that he attempted to sit up, surprised that he had managed without anyone trying to stop him. But that’s because they knew he couldn’t. Pain shot through his back, arms, legs, every single part of his body as he collapsed on his back once again. The most notable being the sharp stabbing pain in his side. He instinctively reached for it, his fingers slick with what he assumed was blood. What even happened to him, he couldn’t recall at the moment.
The voice got closer; so close he could feel hot, alcohol ridden breath hitting his face. “What’s your name, stranger?”
That was a new voice. One he hadn’t recognized in the chorus of mumbling he heard upon waking up. It was calm, and if he hadn’t known any better he would say friendly. Someone who obviously observed the situation and kept quiet up until now. Troubling.
But not as troubling as the fact that, at the moment, he couldn’t answer that question. What was his name? Who was he? All these answers hazy in his own mind. Blurry. He reached as far as he could for any tiny scrap of a memory. What was he doing earlier? Walking, stumbling, looking for a place to lay low for a while. Until he could find some trace of…
Ah.
“Sharon…” All it took was for him to speak the name, and he remembered. He was looking for Sharon. And although she was surely long dead by now, the memory of the day he went out looking for her -- to see if she had survived, it was all fresh in his mind right now. The memory his brain retreated to. A time when he had some kind of hope.
“The fuck kinda name is that for a man?” He felt something -- a foot probably, prod at his side, and he gasped. It was his wounded side. “For such a big ugly guy too, heh.”
“What if he means...” the man with the calm voice trailed off with a low rumble of a laugh, “you know, the ferryman of Hades. Charon.”
The group of men all laughed, one a little more vocal than the others. “He looks like he got parents fucked up enough to call ‘em that, yeah.”
A boney, almost claw-like hand grabbed at his face, forcing him to wince. The fingers dug into his cheeks like knives.
His eyes finally opened. Turned out it was the sunlight that had been blinding him, but he managed to just barely keep them open. A lot of good that did him though, as all he saw were dark figures surrounded in an impossibly bright light.
“Look at his skin. Fallin’ off and shit. The name’s fittin’ either way.” He leaned in closer, light brown eyes with dilated pupils staring into his own. “Charon, huh?”
He felt his mind slowly coming back to him. What? No, is that what he said? Did he say that name aloud in his daze? In hindsight, it’s probably a silly thing to get so worked up about in his current situation, but he didn’t want that name leaving their foul lips. Not that name. Not her name.
“It’s Thomas.”
“What’s that, Charon?”
“S’not...my name.”
Another roar of laughter from the group of men, as if he told a funny joke.
“It is now, fucker.”
Family 1/2
Sharon, on the other hand, remained perfectly composed considering the circumstances. In fact she sat in the passenger's seat with a small smile on her face.
She removed her shades as she looked over at him, smile intact. "You're not going to be late, Thomas. Smile a little."
"We're gonna be here at least an hour. Work starts in 30 minutes."
"You should have listened to me and taken the day off." She sighs and looks out her side of the window. "Honestly, the only man I know who'll go to work after camping for three days."
He didn't see that as a bad thing, really. Friday Thomas left work an hour early (which quite frankly was hard enough to get him to do), went home to get his things, picked up Sharon and the others, and went off to camping with the intention of coming back on Monday to get right back to work. Sharon fought him on it. She wanted him to take their returning day off completely, but after a lot of arguing she realized it was a miracle he even managed to take off two days. It's not as if his boss was particularly harsh. It was just how Thomas was.
"Hey, Tommy-boy!"
Thomas looked out the driver's side window to see his long time friend, Dennis, pulling up beside his car. It looked like his lane was at least moving a couple of inches. He offered Thomas a sympathetic look, most likely aware of the sheer levels of pissed off he's feeling right not. And yet, that didn't stop these next words from leaving his mouth.
"Told you we should've left earlier."
Thomas bit back a colorful response, if only because Dennis's kids were in the back seat and their windows were open as well. Last time he accidentally cursed in front of their youngest he got an earful from his friend's wife, Annie. And when the woman wanted to rant, she would rant.
"Sharon wanted to stay a little longer. Do you want to tell her 'no'?"
Sharon leans forward from her seat to give Dennis a smug look. "Yeah, Dennis. Do you want to tell me 'no'?"
Dennis held up his hands in defeat, Annie sitting beside him with a snicker as she draped her arm over her window seat. "I've known Sharon for ten years and even I can't tell the woman 'no'."
Sweet as can be, but when she wanted something she would turn into hell on wheels itself to get it. Thomas barely gets away with it because, well, he's stubborn incarnate.
He looked at his watch.
"Thomas," Sharon began with clear frustration lacing her words, "just call Marcus and tell him you're not coming in. He'll understand."
Dennis chimed in from his car. "Let's all go get something to eat if Thomas isn't going to work."
His kids in the backseat cheered in excitement.
Thomas sighed and leered at Dennis. "I'm going to work. It's not about what Marcus thinks."
Truth be told, if his boss were in the car right now he'd tell him to "take a goddamn day off already". He'd explain to him that he could get someone else to fill in. But it would all fall on deaf ears.
Sharon leaned back in her chair with her arms crossed. Her head canted to the side as she set her blue eyes on Thomas. Her voice was low so the others couldn't hear -- their car being right beside theirs. "Hon, I wish you'd quit that awful job and just let me take care of you. Then maybe you'd be able to relax and not have to worry about money and--"
"Sharon." His tone was stern, but not overly aggressive. They had a good day and he didn't want his temper to ruin it. He just wanted her to drop it. "I like my work."
"You think you like your work."
"Sayin' I don't have a mind of my own?"
"That's not it, Thomas." She just barely bites back a frustrated sigh. "You work so much and we barely all get to spend time together like this."
Thomas is looking ahead at the back of a truck. Her hand covers his resting on his lap. "You and I barely get to spend time together like this."
Thomas feels the guilt in his gut well up to the point where it feels as if it physically manifested itself and is about to pop. He pulls his hand out from under hers and grabs it, looking down at her with his usual blank stare. But for her, it softens just a tad.
"What do you want me to do, Sharon?"
She stares at him, and for a moment he can't tell what the hell she's thinking. Eventually she pulls her hand away and goes back to looking out her side of the window. "Nothing."
Thomas rolls his eyes and looks over to Dennis's lane, intent on pretending to be anywhere but in this fucking car right now. In that moment his gaze caught Annie's, who had apparently been looking over at them already.
She shook her head a couple times before turning her attention to her two kids in the back while Dennis fiddled with the radio, obviously pretending he didn't just hear the exchange. He knew this because Dennis's car radio hasn't been working for two months. Idiot.
Thomas loves his family, but sometimes he just doesn't know what the hell to do with them.