silenttrainbaby: (Default)

Character Basics

Name: Grey
Canon: Snowpiercer
Exit: his death (spoiler alert)
Stuck?: Yes


Time Zone: Central Time Zone
Availability: I am mostly available between work-bizness, between 7 AM and 9 PM. If I am away, I will post so.
Slowtagging: I am, in general, an annoyingly fast tagger. I'm good with slow-tagging as long as I can get as sense of where the thread is going so I can keep moving forward.
Open to: Most anything, though he's going to stick to Cinna's side like glue.
Canon-puncturing: No, thank you.
Offensive subjects: I have very few squicks, but I am always happy to talk ideas through.
Powers: N/A
Contact: PM to this journal.


General warnings: Grey is mute so it can seem that he is ignoring you or very rude: he's just silent. He's also slow to trust and will easily side-eye you. Violence, however, is a last resort, or if Cinna is being threatened.

Romantic interaction: Cinna.

Violence: Grey is a silent, deadly assassin, though he doesn't seek our violence; he will use it if threatened or if Cinna is threatened. That's about it.


For anyone: Nope.

Special permissions: god-modding rights go to Cinna's player.
silenttrainbaby: (Default)
Leave any OOC plotting or messages here for Grey's player! All comment screened!
silenttrainbaby: (huh)
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Nov. 14th, 2015 05:26 pm
silenttrainbaby: (Default)
That feeling of rootlessness, felt so distinctly on the train, had come back sharply, lodging itself in Grey's ribs. One moment in that little house by the lake, he had a home and he was loved. He was complete and knew a kind of happiness that he had never even known existed.

Then it was gone. Everything was gone, even the bracelet that Grey wore from Teleios was gone.

Now, he finds himself in a new strange place. Something like what he's used to, but with all new faces. Even though Grey is clean and there is food here, warmth and physical safety, he does not feel safe and he feels entirely and completely alone.

He doesn't try to reach out to anyone, he cannot speak and he doesn't try.

Because of this, he doesn't know that he has a room of his own. He wanders. Occasionally there is a face he thinks he knows, but otherwise, this is all strange.

He hates it.

Today, he wanders the halls of this strange place, shoulders stiff, chin up and defiant. He will not meet anyone's eyes, glancing at them fleetingly. Perhaps he thinks that he will see Cinna if he wishes hard enough for him. It's silly: childish, really. But he can't help it. Part of his heart is missing.
silenttrainbaby: (Default)
The rocking of the train felt like it came from inside his bones. Grey knew it by heart. He adjusted easily, he adjusted without thinking anything of it. He moved between the bunks, knowing just where to reach for, what to touch, what bunks to avoid because of splinters, what people didn't like being touched. He stopped at Edgar and Curtis's bunk, peering into both to see if they were there, then if they were awake. He checked Curtis first. Curtis would have answers.

How he came to be here again, he didn't know. How he woke up here when he'd gone to bed with Rat, Grey didn't know. The smells here are harsh on his nose; he'd grown used to being clean. Curtis? Maybe he knew. Maybe they could go together to see Gilliam. His stomach was twisted so tightly it hurt. Gilliam. He'd said goodbye to Gilliam, he'd let him go. He'd let go of this coat, too - it was supposed to be hanging in Yuuko's closet. But he wore it.

Wake up, Curtis. Wake up. They were back on the train.
silenttrainbaby: (clean profile)
The cheer and the color of the holiday had an unexpected effect on Grey. That most things didn't seem terribly expensive made it nearly irresistible. He'd just gone looking for two more knives and had left with a large bag of things from the store.

He's carrying this bag when he taps his fingertips on Rat's door. Unbeknownst to him, he's like Santa, bringing his gifts in a sack for Rat, who's been very, very good.

Of course, what's in the sack is a hodge-podge of things that caught his eye in the store. Something called an "Elf on a Shelf," two stockings with spangles on them, a string of lights, a package of tinsel, among with some other things.

Ho-ho-ho, indeed.
silenttrainbaby: (Clean)
Grey has only been in a place like this two times before. Once with Curtis, once on his own when he had met the woman who mistook him for this d'Artagnan who he's yet to meet.

But he needs more than one pair of sweatpants and some t-shirts to wear; he knows that.

Where to start, he doesn't know, though. That's why Rat is with him. He holds his boyfriend's hand and looks around, more than a little lost.
silenttrainbaby: (tattoos)
[[continued directly after Jax helps Grey get a new tattoo]]

Having only stopped by Curtis's apartment to pick up the cat, Grey holds the animal to his chest as he continues to run. He doesn't need to run, of course. There isn't a hurry. Except there feels like there is. He needs to get to Rat's place as soon as he can. He can feel the pull of the tape on his skin; the bandage that covers his new word. He has the instructions for caring for that in his pocket.

He tries the doorknob of the apartment, then knocks, tapping his fingertips on Rat's door. He's got something important and he didn't intend to be gone as long as he was, even, though it's still under an hour.
silenttrainbaby: (blood or bliss)
Somewhere between getting a birthday, birthday parties full of easy, shared emotion, between meeting the man who could understand his thoughts, to Yuuko's statement that he could talk again if he was willing to pay the price for a fulfilled wish, to all the people disappearing and coming back, it is belatedly, yet suddenly, too much.

It isn't even that day, or the day after, or even two. Nearly a week after all of this occurs; that is when the wave crashes over Grey in the dead of night. It is as if he can't breathe, as if his chest is too tight, as if the very sky is caving in on him.

He doesn't wake Curtis, doesn't take the cat, doesn't go to Rat - the silent boy doesn't wish to bother anyone in this moment of most intense, sharp grief. In the rank coat he hasn't worn since the train, he runs like the wind on quiet streets to the beach.

When he feels the sand around his shoes, he slows, walking toward the water he can hear but only barely see. When he gets close enough, he crouches down, rocking on his heels, arms around his knees, making him as small as he used to on the train when he was little, when it all got to be too much.

He wants Gilliam. It's a kind of petulant, vicious, immature tantrum-like reaction that is entirely unlike anything he's felt before, any emotion he's experienced. He remembers Edgar acting like this sometimes in what seems like a lifetime ago.

Grey doesn't want to give up all he has here, not at all. He doesn't want the train back. These things he knows with a certainty in his very bones. But how Gilliam explained things, how he understood what Grey meant or wanted: that is what he wants. Even if only for a moment. It wears him down knowing so little, feeling so much.

Gilliam. Even just so he can say goodbye. So that the last image of his mentor and lover isn't him being shot, falling to the floor of the train car.

He cries out to the sky, though he makes no sound. When the sobs finally die away, he stays still, feeling the salt of the tear tracks drying on his face even long after the sun has risen.
silenttrainbaby: (w/Curtis)
There were nights when he wasn't at Curtis's. The nights where Grey stayed at Rat's, he curled himself around Rat's smaller frame the cat slept with them, too, the smallest of the spoons.

When Grey wasn't there, there were times when he kept to himself on the sofa. But it's so quiet and he still didn't like too-wide spaces in the dark, when he was alone.

He wandered, then, listening at Yona's door, quiet, then Curtis's. Curtis who tossed and turned.

He padded in, the cat following at his heels, wearing just a pair of sweatpants and he knelt in from of Curtis, reaching out a hand to rest it on his shoulder, to still him.
silenttrainbaby: (tattoos)
Grey has had his cast off for all of six hours. The skin was still gray where his arm had been covered; he still has his jacket sleeve pulled down when he knocks on Rat's door with his freed hand. After he's knocked, he still flexes his hand, reveling in the feel of the movement of muscles, tendons and bones.

It's that hand he uses to reach for his boyfriend when the door swings open.
silenttrainbaby: (w/Curtis)
Even as they walk away from that horrible, sterile place that Grey vows never to go back to, he's flexing his left wrist, moving it, twisting both hands, because he can. The cast is finally off and he has both hands back. The nurse had made some sound when she'd cut it, about how dirty it was, about the dried blood perhaps, but he doesn't care. He flexes his hands, splaying his fingers. Finally, he can climb again, fully and truly and he gives Curtis one look before he dashes ahead, grabbing on to a post with a light on top and spinning himself around just because he can.

It hurts, twinges, really, but he's not supposed to do that, he's sure. But he doesn't care. The cast is gone and he has his sweat-jacket-sleeve pulled down to hide the pasty gray of the skin underneath the cast.

He lands on his feet and faces Curtis, his face almost lighting up. They can spar now, if Curtis wants, they can train. He can join that gym that Tris is at, if Curtis will help him. He's just that little bit more free than he was an hour ago.
silenttrainbaby: (Clean)
The piece of paper - the waiver - fluttered from Grey's hand as he pushed his way into Rat's rooms. He looks for the other boy, finds him and comes over. His clothes are dirty, pieces of gravel still sticking to them, something still in his hair. His hands are dirty, but his cheeks are flushed and he kneels before where Rat reads, pressing his cheek to Rat's hand.
silenttrainbaby: (fighting!)
It is between Curtis's rooms and Rat's rooms that Grey explores. He still wants to know the city, still wants to feel at home here. But it's still too big, it's still too wide-open. It's still too loud.

But he comes to a stop when he peers into a window. He presses his casted fingers to the glass as he looks in, watching someone climb, jump, fall, rise and do it again. He feels his breath quicken, feels the muscles of his legs tense in following the movements. He feels a sharp, deep pang of want. To do that, to move like that again.

Without thinking too much of it, he moves toward a door, figures out how to open it and he steps inside.

(Poe's "A Dream Within a Dream")

for Rat

Sep. 28th, 2014 03:34 pm
silenttrainbaby: (clean profile)
It isn't as if Grey has found a sense of peace in the two days since he's seen Rat. He hasn't found the solution, an answer to his existential crisis. But he remembers where Rat lives. And, carrying the cat once again, he finds his way to the building and to the door and he taps his fingers against it. There were flowers on the side of the walk as he'd come here and he plucked them and they are already starting to wilt, even as the cat tries to eat them. Silly cat.
silenttrainbaby: (W/Gilliam)
Higher. Faster. Quieter. Other hand, Grey. Do it, again, faster. Get up. Stay up. Never give up, not even if it means your life. When the time comes ....

Grey wipes the sweat from his eyes and looks up at the ceiling of the part of the car they've cordoned off for training. He's tired, boneweary, and hungry, but at least his bones have stopped aching - growing pains, he was told they were. He just needs, he tells himself, to do one more. He's the fastest, the most agile, the quietest, but even if he weren't mute, it would be hard to be louder than Edgar, who's always somewhere, always with something to say.

He readies himself then sprints, leaping to the top of a box with one foot, using it to leverage himself to the rafters of the car, then he swings, landing on the metal pilings with barely a whoomph of displaced air. The ball is tossed across the floor and he flings himself down, scooping it up with his right hand, throwing it with his left; it hits the window of the door just as it should before he lands in a crouch. Next time, they'll practice with the knife.

He looks to Gilliam from where he's perched. Did he do all right?
silenttrainbaby: (crouching)
He was being followed. Every time, though, that Grey turned around, there was no one there, or someone simply passing along the street, not following, not threatening, not even bothering with the strange, silent boy in the scrubs and cast.

When he stopped, ducking around a corner, he waited, finally sneaking a peek where he'd come from.

That was when he saw it. A sad, battered looking thing who went still at being watched, scrunched against the wall. What was that? Slowly, Grey crouched down, staring at it, the creature looking right back at him.

It was missing an eye, it was dirty and had clearly been in more than one fight. As weird as it sounded, the thing made Grey feel something in his chest - a tight warmth. From his pocket, he pulled a small packet of cheese and bread he'd brought and he pulled off a bit, holding it out.

For a long time, the creature didn't move, his nose flaring. Then, when Grey stayed very still, he came forward, sniffing at the food, then quickly snatching it, skittering away to eat it. The boy took a bite, too, leaning his back against a building as he shared his small meal with his new friend in bits and scraps.
silenttrainbaby: (blood or bliss)
The pain wasn't bad, not really. As he'd trained, he'd been hurt a lot, muscles and joints bruised and bones nearly broken. He's used to pain. This - this pain he felt now - was nothing new, not really. It was just more final and Grey knew it. Since Gilliam was dead, this - death - was nearly a relief. He'd done what he could to help Curtis, to avenge Gilliam's death. Nothing more could be done. As he felt the knife press into his chest, he sank into oblivion.

Only to wake up with a start at the train seeming to have stopped. He was on the floor, of course. The pain woke up a second later and he hissed out between clenched teeth. He pulled and realized that the knife was still lodged through his right hand. That hand throbbed and his entire body felt as if he had been been through too much, worse than any training session. His left hand hung from his wrist uselessly. He forced his eyes open and stared at the ceiling of the steam car of the train.

Where was the old man in the suit?, he suddenly wondered, the one who had been fighting him? Grey's vigilance forced him to sitting, ready for more fighting despite the pain. He pushed the knife from his hand and held it, even if the pain seared through his palm, his left hand still hung loosely; the wrist was broken. It didn't mattier. Surely, if the train had stopped, he must be ready for anything. He pushed to his feet and forward in the train, it not yet occurring to him to go outside the car. After all, wasn't the world still frozen?

for Rat

Sep. 11th, 2014 03:48 pm
silenttrainbaby: (Default)
It was raining. Here, in this place, it didn't rain often, but it was raining now. And like two woodland creatures, Grey and Rat crouched under the tree of their glade, looking out at the rain.

It didn't occur to Grey to find somewhere dry to be. Being outside, even in the rain was still better than being trapped anywhere with walls. He held out his palm, catching raindrops in his hand.
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