[Towards the end of the first day of the flood, Tiffany decides that it's time to check in on the infirmary's most recently-released patient - not in the least because first floods are always a trip for newbies, and this one's timing is the worst.]
Your stitches aren't pulling themselves out, right?
Your stitches aren't pulling themselves out, right?
[ She sounds like she just woke up. What time is it, again? She laughs, something curt off her teeth.]
Only when I pick at 'em.
[She's joking. Kind of.]
Only when I pick at 'em.
[She's joking. Kind of.]
...You didn't have any crazy powers I didn't know about that's suddenly come back, right?
[ A day or so after she dies—whether normalcy reigns again or not—a knock comes at the door to Tess' cabin. When she answers it, she'll find her backpack slumped on the doorstep. Inside are her stolen belongings—duct tape, keys, gas mask—with the exception of the maps and bottle of liquor. There is also a library copy of Something Wicked This Way Comes and a selection of three romance novels.
None of them are about cowboys. ]
None of them are about cowboys. ]
[ Tess takes a bit to get to the door; it takes dragging her ass out of bed, shrugging herself into a sweater and making her way to the door without hurling. She doesn’t see anyone through the peephole, so she opens the door just a crack at first, peering out with her body behind the door. No one, but there’s a weight against the door. She lets the door creak open further.
The sight of her backpack genuinely surprises her. Maybe it shouldn’t — it does seem very Billy, and she doesn’t actually know William proper all that well.
Still, it doesn’t seem like a trap. She stoops, achingly slow, and drags the bag in by the strap. It’s heavier than she expects, and once she gets it back inside, she sinks back down onto her bed to go through it.
More surprises.
She fishes out her communicator to type to him: ]
Didn’t want to wait to get your knife?
The sight of her backpack genuinely surprises her. Maybe it shouldn’t — it does seem very Billy, and she doesn’t actually know William proper all that well.
Still, it doesn’t seem like a trap. She stoops, achingly slow, and drags the bag in by the strap. It’s heavier than she expects, and once she gets it back inside, she sinks back down onto her bed to go through it.
More surprises.
She fishes out her communicator to type to him: ]
Didn’t want to wait to get your knife?
Knock knock, someone's at Tess' door! Dimly aware of how Tess recently fuckin died, Hange does not hammer on it or anything like that, she just waits for a reply.
Tess answers the door at a significant delay. Fresh from bed and in a loose tank top and shorts, she’s a mess of visible scars, and the debrided bite wound on her shoulder is very pink and still very freshly healed over. After a couple long days of death tolling, she has dark circles under her eyes, but at least she's in a place where Arthur doesn't have to babysit her anymore.
Not often she gets visitors, though, and she looks a little curious at the prospect. A little brighter.
"Hey, Hange."
Not often she gets visitors, though, and she looks a little curious at the prospect. A little brighter.
"Hey, Hange."
Did you wanna threaten me? [ He sounds open to it. ]
[Terse and tight and wound the fuck up:]
Cannot begin to tell you how fucking not-in-the-mood I am, William.
[So: yes.]
Cannot begin to tell you how fucking not-in-the-mood I am, William.
[So: yes.]
Edited 2020-07-26 02:28 (UTC)
Audio - backdated to after his confrontation with William, post-Mirror
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stand_unshaken
2020-08-02 07:27 pm (UTC)(link)
You plannin' on cozying up to that William fella again?
[He sounds a little out of breath, his voice pinched with anger he can't quite disguise.]
[He sounds a little out of breath, his voice pinched with anger he can't quite disguise.]
[ That's interesting. She's never heard him quite like that before, at least not outside of the Mirror Barge, and it has her full attention in an instant.]
Wasn't my plan in the first place. What's going on?
Wasn't my plan in the first place. What's going on?
Since it's been about 5 minutes since the last IC inbox thread
stand_unshaken
2020-08-02 08:26 pm (UTC)(link)
[He just got back from Ellies cabin, and he went straight to Tess'. It isn't far, and he knocks on her door.]
my life is not complete without our 20893423 inbox threads
dog_eat_dog
2020-08-02 08:37 pm (UTC)(link)
[Tess doesn't answer at first, and when she does open the door, she looks plenty worked up. Smells like cigarette smoke, too. Bossily:]
What?
What?
Fuck. The shampoo dispenser in Allison's favorite shower stall is busted---which wouldn't be a big deal except, you know, she's already turned on the shower and there is someone else in another stall and even confident as she is about her own body (which is to say, very), she isn't keen on running around soaking wet trying to find a functional shampoo pump.
...But she doesn't have much choice.
She ducks out carefully, looking both ways, pulls her towel from its hook and holds it to her chest.
"Coming out to find shampoo," she calls to whoever may be showering, so as not to startle them, "Just a heads-up."
...But she doesn't have much choice.
She ducks out carefully, looking both ways, pulls her towel from its hook and holds it to her chest.
"Coming out to find shampoo," she calls to whoever may be showering, so as not to startle them, "Just a heads-up."
The inmate showers are generally quite empty, at least to Tess's experience. The men outnumber the women by a considerable degree, and after stripping out the women who are wardens, it leaves the number remaining at a paltry dozen. It's easy to have the whole place to yourself, and for that reason, Tess chuckles quietly to herself when she hears Allison's voice.
"What's the going rate for trading space-prison shampoo these days?" she calls back. "Shower gel? Lotion?"
Teasing, of course.
"What's the going rate for trading space-prison shampoo these days?" she calls back. "Shower gel? Lotion?"
Teasing, of course.
this made me re-upload the old icons of The Dreaded Shower Scene her actress has done
dog_eat_dog
- 2020-08-06 01:50 (UTC) - Expandnow i just need a situation where I can use the Cutting Off A Man's Thumb With A Circular Saw icons
dog_eat_dog
- 2020-08-06 02:12 (UTC) - Expandokay, challenge: let's see if and when that can be arranged
getawaycarr
- 2020-08-06 02:41 (UTC) - Expandduring the somehow better than rl train au because i do what i want
vaccination
2020-08-25 01:41 am (UTC)(link)
Ellie's had her own bunk for a long time, but now and then she wiggles her way into Tess'. She's not ashamed of it. She's lucky to have a parent, she knows, and so she has no worry about seeming childish for just wanting to sleep in her bunk rather than her own. It's warmer, too.
But, really, it just makes her feel better when she has a hard time falling asleep. And she knows her mother won't make a fuss or send her packing. So, here Ellie is, squeezing her way in whether Tess is asleep or not.
But, really, it just makes her feel better when she has a hard time falling asleep. And she knows her mother won't make a fuss or send her packing. So, here Ellie is, squeezing her way in whether Tess is asleep or not.
Tess stirs when Ellie climbs in, budging over until her back's against the wall. In years past, she'd always keep her baby to the inside, to stop her from tumbling or crawling out when she was really little and to protect her even as she got older, but at this age, it's just enough to squeeze the two of them in there regardless of who is on what side.
Without even opening her eyes, Tess gets an arm around Ellie and cuddles in.
"Bad dream, baby?" she murmurs.
Without even opening her eyes, Tess gets an arm around Ellie and cuddles in.
"Bad dream, baby?" she murmurs.
Edited 2020-08-25 01:50 (UTC)
[That's surprising, to say the least.]
I've got time. What's going on?
I've got time. What's going on?
(Right after this).
Did you take Ellie's goddamn journal?
[He doesn't sound angry. He sounds annoyed, but definitely not with Tess, even if it's annoying that she did what she did. He's really just pissed off at Ellie, who is a child, and so he ought to be better than that.]
Did you take Ellie's goddamn journal?
[He doesn't sound angry. He sounds annoyed, but definitely not with Tess, even if it's annoying that she did what she did. He's really just pissed off at Ellie, who is a child, and so he ought to be better than that.]
[It takes her a minute to reply, but when she does, she sounds smooth as silk. She knows what she did. She's living with it.]
When she told me I'd regret it, I didn't think she meant she'd turn around and cry to you.
When she told me I'd regret it, I didn't think she meant she'd turn around and cry to you.
I'm sure you've heard by now.
You going to lecture me like the rest of them?
You going to lecture me like the rest of them?
[ At exactly midnight, a piece of paper slides under the door. When unfolded, it's not the standard single sheet—the map, done in Ellie's hand, sprawls over several pages. There's a stylized compass rose in one corner, but it's otherwise unlabeled: a wide room leading on to smaller rooms, twisting corridors and stairways. Rooms upon rooms, passageways upon passageways.
There is a path. Not drawn by Ellie—the line less disciplined, the pen driven deeper into the paper. It reaches into the heart of the map, running ragged as a scar, turning and turning again.
It's the library, of course. When—if—Tess follows the map, it'll take her deep into the stacks and past the most-used study rooms. She'll descend stairs, turn sharp corners, walk the occasional long dusty hallway. At the end of it, half an hour later if she's quick, she'll find a room like any other.
Inside are shelves filled with books: William's favorite authors, his old childhood loves, romance novels and philosophy primers as well. History books—every volume of Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire—and western dime novels. A tiny bit of poetry. A few things with titles that interested him or brought Tess to mind. Library books, all of them, but then they haven't been removed from the library.
Beyond the usual table and chairs, the room's furnished with one of William's relentlessly tasteful bedroom lamps and cushions swiped from various common rooms. On the table is a whiskey bottle holding an arrangement of flowers from the greenhouse, and a note in William's scrawl—its illegibility one of the constants between this and that other barge:
Happy birthday.
I didn't have time to install a lock but I bet you could. ]
There is a path. Not drawn by Ellie—the line less disciplined, the pen driven deeper into the paper. It reaches into the heart of the map, running ragged as a scar, turning and turning again.
It's the library, of course. When—if—Tess follows the map, it'll take her deep into the stacks and past the most-used study rooms. She'll descend stairs, turn sharp corners, walk the occasional long dusty hallway. At the end of it, half an hour later if she's quick, she'll find a room like any other.
Inside are shelves filled with books: William's favorite authors, his old childhood loves, romance novels and philosophy primers as well. History books—every volume of Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire—and western dime novels. A tiny bit of poetry. A few things with titles that interested him or brought Tess to mind. Library books, all of them, but then they haven't been removed from the library.
Beyond the usual table and chairs, the room's furnished with one of William's relentlessly tasteful bedroom lamps and cushions swiped from various common rooms. On the table is a whiskey bottle holding an arrangement of flowers from the greenhouse, and a note in William's scrawl—its illegibility one of the constants between this and that other barge:
Happy birthday.
I didn't have time to install a lock but I bet you could. ]
[It's just like being at home, in some ways: in a world with no streets or sensible directions, a map is the only way to communicate where things are, and people leave them so their loved ones can find valuables if they die. (And they do often die; how many times have she and Joel frisked a map off of a corpse?) She suspects, however, this one isn't going to lead to a cache of miscellaneous screws, manuals, and bullets. She does have to find out.
It's a long path, but it's nice to have something to do. She's not sure what to expect. The last time she went on a hunt like this, she came to in the infirmary with a Magic 8 Ball as a souvenir. It could always happen again.
She's relieved, then, to find the room William has left her, and a smile tugs at the corner of her mouth when she sees the lamp. She knows it's his work well before she sees his handwriting. She thumbs at a flower petal; it's real, of course, but they're still a novel sight. Standing there, note in one hand, she types out a message with the other:]
Surprised you remembered. Thank you.
It's a long path, but it's nice to have something to do. She's not sure what to expect. The last time she went on a hunt like this, she came to in the infirmary with a Magic 8 Ball as a souvenir. It could always happen again.
She's relieved, then, to find the room William has left her, and a smile tugs at the corner of her mouth when she sees the lamp. She knows it's his work well before she sees his handwriting. She thumbs at a flower petal; it's real, of course, but they're still a novel sight. Standing there, note in one hand, she types out a message with the other:]
Surprised you remembered. Thank you.
post-Joel's ~network debut~ but time it however you like
omniavincit
2020-11-19 02:02 pm (UTC)(link)
You there? [ Soft, concerned. ]
[There are a lot of reasons to say no to this but the clock is ticking.]
Of course.
[Can’t resist:]
Didn’t know you knew how to text, old man.
Of course.
[Can’t resist:]
Didn’t know you knew how to text, old man.
Edited 2020-11-21 17:18 (UTC)
remember when yuo asked me if I wanted to drink after Betelgeuse left
Anything I can get you? Ice? A drink?
How badly did you get hurt?
How badly did you get hurt?
I'll be in a sling for a month and I've got a couple bad bruises, but otherwise, not too bad. I'll never say no to a drink, though.
Hey. No changes, just hurts like a bitch. Still can’t extend it fully, but I’m not too surprised about that.
Can I call in a favor?
If, hypothetically, I might need to hide a body in some unspecified time in the future, where would be the best place?
If, hypothetically, I might need to hide a body in some unspecified time in the future, where would be the best place?
Depends. They’ll never find them in the Brew but the owner might get tetchy.
What’s up?
What’s up?
[Normally, Cloud would just text. Voice and video are awkward; he never knows what to do with his face or his hands, or his inflection. But tone of voice can do a lot, and this isn't an everyday conversation.]
Talked to Yunlan. The hell else did you take from his place? The guy's pissed.
[And he knows Tess took more than she came for, which she conveniently forgot to mention, but it's... fine. He's not pissed or accusatory, just frustrated.]
Talked to Yunlan. The hell else did you take from his place? The guy's pissed.
[And he knows Tess took more than she came for, which she conveniently forgot to mention, but it's... fine. He's not pissed or accusatory, just frustrated.]
Edited 2020-12-30 06:51 (UTC)
[Tess is completely unfazed by Cloud being on to her own theft; it’s matter-of-fact, a little cool.]
A couple knives and a necklace. Needed something to barter with in case I didn’t find my handkerchief. It worked, too.
[She considers how much more she could have wrung from him for it but hey, she was being Nice.]
A couple knives and a necklace. Needed something to barter with in case I didn’t find my handkerchief. It worked, too.
[She considers how much more she could have wrung from him for it but hey, she was being Nice.]
I know we're only just past port, so if you want a breather you can ignore this awhile - I had a question? Of the serious kind, been sitting on it for a minute.
[Tess answers pretty promptly; she's plenty curious.]
I'm good to go. Shoot.
I'm good to go. Shoot.
He really doesn't want to talk to anyone. He wants to crawl into bed with a bottle of liquor and close his eyes for a week. He didn't die, but he only barely managed to escape death - he'd seen those spikes, and he knows he wouldn't have lived long if he hadn't escaped just then.
He hates himself. He doesn't think on this too often, but right now he hates who he is. He'd told Jake he'd be doing dumb shit, and what did he end up doing?
Fuck. The problem had been that Tess wasn't there to remind him what he was there for. With her away on that ranch, not even knowing who she was, it had been so easy to just get pulled into all the chaos. But she is here now. And he's got his responsibility towards her, even if he's tempted to leave custodial to Leia for a few days.
He sends Tess a message, the morning after they've left: Don't feel too good. You okay?
Leaving behind another life always feels strange, but this one feels good to leave behind. It’s not because it was bad for her, or because the dullness of ranch life wasn’t preferable to greater struggle. She just hadn’t wanted to be there then, either. All that, every day, for the rest of her life, with no future generation, no one to pass it on to? In hindsight, the futility of it was almost as painful as eking out a life in the QZ. Life for life’s sake. That was alright by her for a long time.
Now she’d rather dare to want more.
The plan was to sleep in for once, but she wakes up when the communicator notification goes off. She frowns at the message and props herself up on an elbow to type back:
I’m okay. Sit tight, I’ll swing by with coffee.
Something must have happened.
Now she’d rather dare to want more.
The plan was to sleep in for once, but she wakes up when the communicator notification goes off. She frowns at the message and props herself up on an elbow to type back:
I’m okay. Sit tight, I’ll swing by with coffee.
Something must have happened.
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