Booker DeWitt (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
washitaway) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
tushanshu2014-01-13 10:25 pm
washitaway) wrote in tushanshu2014-01-13 10:25 pm
Entry tags:
008; video;
[ooc: Content warning: References to alcoholism and violence/murder in the post. Comment threads may also include stuff along those lines, and also possibly talk of child abuse/neglect. Other warnings may be added to individual threads as needed. Also, Bioshock Infinite spoilers are a given. Putting this behind a cut just to be safe!]
[It's late at night when he puts this up. The suite behind him is deep in shadows, and it's obvious that Booker hasn't been taking care of himself for a few days - not just his usual 5 o'clock shadow, he hasn't even bathed properly, or changed his clothes or anything. Basically, he's a mess.
He hasn't been seen for days - the only people he's had contact with the past few days have been those who sought him out, either in person or via his inbox, and none of those meetings or conversations have been very long. Or informative.
He's also drunk. He's been drunk for the better part of three days. This, turtleites, is officially a bender. And now, now after all that, Booker's got something to say. It's probably a bad idea, but he's had far worse. Oh, has he ever had worse.]
If there's one thing I've learned, it's that we can't change. We can't change anything. Not the past, not the present, hell not even the future.
[Damn Luteces and their dies, died, will die crap.]
And we sure as hell can't change ourselves.
[He turns his head slightly, taking a drink of whatever liquor he's got on hand - something cheap, not very good, but strong.]
I made my choices. Most of 'em were bad. I destroyed lives, people. Myself. That's all I do. Destroy, and kill. It's all I can do. Even when I try to fix some of those mistakes.
Comstock was right. It always ends in blood. I'm just waiting for the day that the blood is mine.
[It's late at night when he puts this up. The suite behind him is deep in shadows, and it's obvious that Booker hasn't been taking care of himself for a few days - not just his usual 5 o'clock shadow, he hasn't even bathed properly, or changed his clothes or anything. Basically, he's a mess.
He hasn't been seen for days - the only people he's had contact with the past few days have been those who sought him out, either in person or via his inbox, and none of those meetings or conversations have been very long. Or informative.
He's also drunk. He's been drunk for the better part of three days. This, turtleites, is officially a bender. And now, now after all that, Booker's got something to say. It's probably a bad idea, but he's had far worse. Oh, has he ever had worse.]
If there's one thing I've learned, it's that we can't change. We can't change anything. Not the past, not the present, hell not even the future.
[Damn Luteces and their dies, died, will die crap.]
And we sure as hell can't change ourselves.
[He turns his head slightly, taking a drink of whatever liquor he's got on hand - something cheap, not very good, but strong.]
I made my choices. Most of 'em were bad. I destroyed lives, people. Myself. That's all I do. Destroy, and kill. It's all I can do. Even when I try to fix some of those mistakes.
Comstock was right. It always ends in blood. I'm just waiting for the day that the blood is mine.
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