[Benjamin is still in a vaguely manic state of energy. In fact, whatever is carrying him forward, seems to be getting a little frustrated with his lack of progress. He hasn't slept more than a couple of hours total, this week, his expression pale and eyes haunted, almost bruise-black, so Ambassador won't see him in the morning. He can be found in the cafeteria, though, very early in the morning, turning in some coins to the vending machine.
Luckily nothing that comes out to day seems to be acutely traumatic, like last time, although he spends some time standing there with the flannel held in his hands, staring at the shirt like it's an accusation.
By the time that night time hours are ended, he's deposited most of his items where he thinks they'll get more use, between the costume room and the scene shop, and moved on to the weight room, where he's squared up with a punching bag and spends a while raining down absolutely punishing blows onto it, until his shirt is soaked about halfway down his back, and the thick leather has burned the bare skin on his knuckles until they've begun to crack and bleed.
He takes a shower in the boys' locker room, just standing under scalding water hot as an exorcism for a few minutes before he begins to scrub himself clean. Aside from the copious amount of steam, anybody who comes in may catch a glimpse of the old, thick scars that stripe viciously across his back.
After he showers, he slips into a t-shirt that's just barely looser than skintight, and contemplates in the locker room for a long moment before he decides to slip into the red flannel. It fits him like a glove, and he stares at his reflection with an unreadable expression as he rolls up the sleeves to his elbows, baring his forearms.
After the motive, he goes to the library, looking through the music books for something. When he finds what he's looking for, he goes to the music room, where he wordlessly picks up one of the guitars that the Balladeer had tuned, weeks ago, and starts at the beginning of the book, practicing the first two basic chords, over and over again with a grim determination.
When his fingers won't play anymore, he puts away the guitar and takes the book back to his room to leave it in his trunk. Then he goes on a walk through the grounds, despite the threat of rain overhead. His walk takes him pretty much everywhere, but he ends up nonetheless in the garden, where he stops to rest on the edge of the pond, basking in the stillness and the growing pressure that promises rain soon.]
There's a grief that can't be spoken, There's a pain goes on and on...
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Luckily nothing that comes out to day seems to be acutely traumatic, like last time, although he spends some time standing there with the flannel held in his hands, staring at the shirt like it's an accusation.
By the time that night time hours are ended, he's deposited most of his items where he thinks they'll get more use, between the costume room and the scene shop, and moved on to the weight room, where he's squared up with a punching bag and spends a while raining down absolutely punishing blows onto it, until his shirt is soaked about halfway down his back, and the thick leather has burned the bare skin on his knuckles until they've begun to crack and bleed.
He takes a shower in the boys' locker room, just standing under scalding water hot as an exorcism for a few minutes before he begins to scrub himself clean. Aside from the copious amount of steam, anybody who comes in may catch a glimpse of the old, thick scars that stripe viciously across his back.
After he showers, he slips into a t-shirt that's just barely looser than skintight, and contemplates in the locker room for a long moment before he decides to slip into the red flannel. It fits him like a glove, and he stares at his reflection with an unreadable expression as he rolls up the sleeves to his elbows, baring his forearms.
After the motive, he goes to the library, looking through the music books for something. When he finds what he's looking for, he goes to the music room, where he wordlessly picks up one of the guitars that the Balladeer had tuned, weeks ago, and starts at the beginning of the book, practicing the first two basic chords, over and over again with a grim determination.
When his fingers won't play anymore, he puts away the guitar and takes the book back to his room to leave it in his trunk. Then he goes on a walk through the grounds, despite the threat of rain overhead. His walk takes him pretty much everywhere, but he ends up nonetheless in the garden, where he stops to rest on the edge of the pond, basking in the stillness and the growing pressure that promises rain soon.]
There's a grief that can't be spoken,
There's a pain goes on and on...