apocalypsehowcomm | LOG | October general

Entry tags:

LOG | October general | OPEN

Who: Wake and anyone!
When: Vague first half of October
Where: neighborhood of the ADI building, other locations possibly TBA.
Summary: From having a real bad time in space to having a real bad time in coastal Massachusetts.
Warnings: disorientation, dissociation, paranoia, the complex trauma of space colonialism, implied violence, implied pregnancy trauma, self-disgust and body autonomy issues resulting from both of the above

Prompts being added in top-level comments to this post; anyone and everyone welcome to PM or Discord ping me for questions or thread requests!

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

[ It's like the moment after something blows up square in your face, is what it is, Wake keeps thinking. The split second where you feel all but normal, aside from the ringing in your skull and the underwater noises, and the not knowing quite which way is up or how many of your limbs are in order, and the stupidest damned thoughts getting jammed crossways in your head. Aside from all that, just like life.

She still isn't certain she believes this place, not entirely, but it's too weird to be a hallucination and almost too fucking pointless to be a trap. No point fretting any further than that over not enough evidence. What she knows: she's here; she's not dead yet; she's presently beholden to this ADI nonsense for her papers and the roof above her head; until further evidence she trusts them and their story about so far as she can spit; she's been in worse corners.

Treat it as another fucking resettlement, is what she tells herself. That much comes back whenever it's necessary. Wherever you are now, this is the place where your name is meaningless. This is the place where you're not big or clever; this is the place where you have no one. Stay down, stay breathing. Learn the terrain as far out as you can get. Learn it again. Watch the locals. Watch the ones who aren't and want to pass -- that's who'll fuck you if there's something to be gained by it. Watch where the supply chains flow to and where they don't. Ears open, mouth shut, learn how and where to buy trust when you need it. Never throw the first punch until you know exactly who you'll hit. Sooner or later -- stay sharp, stay watchful -- the moment will open out.

Wake fucking hates it all, thanks.

Even more, she hates needing it as a kick in the pants. If her body were being allowed a say in things just yet, she wouldn't be crawling out of bed save for mealtimes and the odd hot bath here and there. Tolerable for a little while, if only she weren't already so hatefully out of condition that even the gym-so-called is right off-limits. Can't cover ground much above a brisk walk, either; but she can manage a brisk walk without fucking over the equilibrium of her ribs or any of the other outraged meat between her neck and her shoes. And the other thing she can't is afford to hang about without getting the lay of the land.

She's been making a game, therefore, of striking out in some direction or another until she gets winded and then finding her way back; mornings here seem to be foggy as hell this time of year, which does add some intellectual challenge to the exercise.

Spot the very distinctive-looking new arrival anywhere within about a two-mile radius of ADI Housing, possibly looking a bit rough and very unhappy about it! ]

[It is, in fact, not that difficult to spot Wake as new and also someone who decidedly should not be outside right now in the early morning-- or anytime, maybe. Beau is one of those people who wakes up early and gets a run in (which counts double as patrol) and normally she wouldn't get very involved, but it's one of those times where Wake looks like she might die and Beau really doesn't want to be responsible for this water bottle. So she slows down as she approaches with a little squint, looking enough like a regular jogger as not to draw suspicion.]

Uhhh... hey. You... you good? You don't look super good.

Fine.

[ Guttural, bitten-off, definitely stretching a point. Wake's not, she doesn't think, about to drop; that's as much fine as she's got any reason to expect.

Hell, she woke up feeling close to bearable. Enough to try a course of wind sprints, even. Barely a run; the sort of thing she would have crushed into the fucking ground and not needed to wipe the sweat from her eyes, before it all.

Mistake.

She fucking feels grey. Gripping the back of a park bench, both hands, all tendons standing out with the effort of keeping her legs beneath her. She can hear her own heart pounding. It doesn't bring back anything good.

She bares her teeth at the other woman, something attempting to be a smile. ]

Just off a stretch of sitting on my ass for far too fucking long, that's all. Every time I think I can't be so far out of condition --

[ Bruises don't help, although at least they're a quieter fuck-awful color lately. More or less entirely hidden. Ribs well on their way to unremarkable. No worse, again, than might be expected. ]

[Misty is, by now, used to the rotating roommates rigamarole: this is far from the first time that someone has come through the door while she's cooking dinner.]

Well, at least you're an adult!

[She says, looking up from the pan of veggie stirfry that she's mixing.]

And a woman. You're moving in, right? Are you hungry?

Edited 2022-10-21 17:10 (UTC)

[ Is she hungry.

It's been the wildest, longest, certifiably worst day of Wake's fucking life, even after the gravity-well plunge to the bottom it's all been since she clasped hands with the shimmery fucking monster; and a deeply fucking ordinary person is asking her, in that quick tile-clicking accent most of them seem to have here, whether she's hungry. Like it's business. Like it's another damn day.

Not hungry half so much as she is desperate to lie down in the dark and quit existing, although her meat wants her to know there are two schools of thought on that one. Whatever's on the go smells edible, at least. ]

That's what they tell me I am, any rate. Moving in.

[ Woman's got the harried, unsurprised look to her of someone who's den-mothered her share of resettlements. It's the beginning of some way to think of this, at least, that makes some fucking sense. And when it's like that, you don't lead off with the insult of flat turning down an offer of food. ]

And I could eat, if what you've got there will stretch. Hate to pile insult on imposition if I'd be taking your dinner away from you.

Edited 2022-10-23 05:40 (UTC)

Oh, gosh, it's no trouble; I'm happy to share.

[There's a weirdly performative quality to her tone: not actively dishonest, but not fully honest, either. Whatever she's doing, she's doing it at least in part for show.]

It's, um-- it's just stirfry, nothing fancy. Why don't you get settled, and I'll call you when it's ready!

[ False as hell, but that's no great shock. It'd be more cause for concern, or at least for note, if the woman were any other way for being landed with a new arrival over her dinner. Under the circumstances, at least to such extent that Wake can rough them out so far, too sincere or too unpracticed wouldn't ring right.

Could be almost anything underlying that falseness, but damned if she'd have it in her to speculate even if that weren't a waste of her time just yet. ]

Oh, I'll eat most things that couldn't have learned to speak.

[ Shrugs, one-shouldered -- mistake, and she's not happy with how well she doesn't school the flinch, but so it is -- and turns away, directing all the pathetic focus she can bring to bear onto studying the setup of the flat.

It's far newer, an order of magnitude better kitted out, than she's ever seen wasted on the likes of what she might as well be here; unexpected enough to itch at the back of her neck, even if that might square with how these ADI people see themselves. Generous, respectable, regulated cages, oh yes, that could add up. With the other resident here she doesn't feel at liberty to turn the place over, or even to handle much -- another itch -- assume it's unsecure, and go on.

She'd like, savagely, to fling something through the window -- the table would be a start -- but just because they didn't clap a shock anklet on her doesn't mean she thinks that would turn out well. Go on. ]

Any of these rooms taken in particular?

[It's amazing how much someone can say fine and the rest of them is so far from fine Beau wants to laugh. Damn, this is what she looks like when her friends are dragging her out of a scrap, huh? There's an I-told-you-so from another universe somewhere right now and she is only thankful this woman has no idea about it. In the meantime, she just cocks her head a little bit and gives her a quick up-and-down-once-over to determine if she might actually die or not.]

Y'know, there's a difference between, uhhhh, being lazy and breaking all your bones. Not that I can tell if that happened, but. Those are some big ass marks.

[So she's guessing, but it's an educated one, after all.]

Are all your bones working? Because if not you really shouldn't be out here without a spotter or something. At least like, a dog or whatever.

Oh, the one on the left is mine--

[Misty darts out of the kitchen for just one moment, wanting to make absolutely sure that the newcomer doesn't try to move into her room.]

-- but either of the others are fine! I mean, I assume. It would be kind of weird if ADI cared. But they're both empty, and clean. There's been a lot of changeover over the past seven months, but none of them trashed the place.

[Thankfully.]

So, um, I'm Misty Quigley. And you are...?

[ Yet a further sign that whatever gods are out there, beyond the cold and anathematic jumped-up war criminal that calls itself the Kindly Prince of Death, fundamentally don't give a rat's ass: the sheer fucking wounded pride of it all still isn't enough to steady Wake's knees. Not as immediately as she'd like, in any case.

She forces herself, though, to pry a hand free and pull the hem of her tank back down over the few inches it's ridden up. She's not quite the size she thinks she is, yet, still soft around the waistline; fucking dreadful. ]

My bones are fine, thanks just the same.

[ Best walk it back, kiddie. Since when are you so swimming in contacts around here that your ego could start telling them to piss off?

Out of everyone who might've stopped for her, at least, this one -- might've been worse, anyway. The concern sets all Wake's teeth on edge, but at least the other isn't obviously using it to try and eel inside her defenses. At least she doesn't look so much more at home here than Wake feels; something to the way she stands, the tilt of her head, the way her weight's balanced. Hindbrain wants to recognize her as -- if not a friendly, then as at least comprehensible.

Worth steering in, and you know it. Let's give it a bit of the human side, shall we? ]

Ribs have been better before, but they'll hold. It's the soft tissue bullshit overtop the bad conditioning that's the real motherfucker.

[ It doesn't feel like a good smile, but it's a start. ]

Sure, right.

[ Faced with the absolutely wildly improbable luxury of her choice of rooms all to her-fucking-self -- she'd known there was only one other person in the flat at the moment, but there's knowing and there's having it driven home with a fucking brickbat -- might as well take the one furthest away. As a courtesy. Sure, right, why the hell not. She doesn't expect her dreams will be easy to live with.

It's as much private square footage as she's had outside a goddamned flagship; why the hell not. Why the hell not have an easy cage.

This is what they hand out on arrival, girlie. You fucking act like you'd assumed you rated nothing less. ]

Awake Remembrance Of These Valiant Dead. [ She's not reeling off the whole thing. Already gathered, thanks, that even this much is a long way off what these people are prepared to think of as a name. Their loss. ] Wake's fine, or Awake. So long as it's not hey, you there's no call to stand on ceremony.

Some name!

[Misty says, hovering in the doorway for a bit longer than intended. Mostly, she's trying to get a better look at this woman's - at Awake's? - face, wanting to suss out whether or not she's teasing her. She tries to keep her own expression neutral, so that she can play it off either way: a casual, nonplussed reaction can be spun as either I totally believed you, but because I'm culturally sensitive, not because I'm gullible or Of course I didn't believe your obvious joke, I was just playing along!]

Gosh, mine must seem so boring in comparison. But, uh, at least it's an adjective, right? I mean, a name like Jessica would probably sound so weird to you - just a jumble of sounds!

[Honestly, Beau's pretty used to prickly weird motherfuckers, on account of the fact that she was and probably will continue to be just that 90% of the time. It used to be 100%, but then she got some friends, so she's at least slightly more of a person. Point being, this isn't very offensive to her, though it does make her quirk an eyebrow.]

Hey, as long as the hard stuff works, the rest is malleable. Over time, and stuff. I just didn't want you to like... faint or something out here, because then I'd have to be responsible for your unconcious self, and that would be kind of a weird way to meet someone.

[As if she hasn't met like, four people this way. Still, it isn't the most normal way to meet someone else. Still, she holds out her hand for a shake.]

Beau. You?

Wake.

[ Straightens up, as much as she can: not so much as all that, but she can get hips-spine-shoulders all more or less in the alignment they ought to be. Only has to keep the one hand on back of the bench to do it, too, so the other's free to clasp the one Beau holds out to her.

Hands're just as quivery as the rest of her, but she can manage a half-decent grip. She's managed it before, feeling worse. ]

You work over at the ADI building at all? I'm wondering if I've seen you anywhere before.

[ She hasn't, that she can bring back -- hell knows it's been a fucking haze -- but call it a hunch. One failure to fit in against the background to another. Call it there goddamned well needs to be a watchword set for this, if they're all supposed to be flying below the sensors as far as the locals are concerned. Good enough, all things considered. ]

[ Jumble of sounds, start to finish, is about the fucking size of it. Fuck, she's that close to fried whether she wants to be or not, and they threw her in with a talker.

Watch that, by the way. It'd be just flat fucking humiliating to get snared by a lockup informant the first time she tries something these people wouldn't like. ]

Oh, I knew a Misty one time. Something-Someone Misty Mountains Cold. He didn't stick around so long.

[ Ate a corpse bomb square in the face, actually, not that this would be the time to disclose. Still she says it deadpan as can be managed, with what even she can feel is a thin and wan fragment of a smile. She can just about taste blood in her teeth, still. ]

Listen, do you mind much? It's been, truly, an extensive festering cunt of a day --

[ And that, might as well be on cue, is her knees gone and chosen to pack it in. Of course. She doesn't quite go down, but only by virtue of gripping the doorframe quickly enough to pitch most of her weight against it instead.

All of her hurts ridiculous; the kind you don't know whether to weep or ask the very nature of embodied reality whether it's quite through fucking around. She manages, at least aloud, not to do either, but it's near as dammit. ]

Oh!

[The gasp is equal parts alarmed and intrigued; Misty wastes no time in rushing forward, offering an arm to Awake so that she can support herself on something more easily grabbable than the doorframe.]

Here, come over to the couch; you need to sit down. Or, do you want me to take you to Medical? I work there, and I do have some supplies here, but not a lot--

[A talker indeed.]

[The fact she puts forth the effort to make the tight handshake. It's respect to be flexing when you look like shit, and it's something she would do, so it works out. Beau gives a little nod, like she recognizes game meeting game.]

Yeah, I do. Assume you are too. We both kinda have that, uh...

[She flattens one hand and waves it in an 'eeeeh' motion.]

Not from here sort of vibe. No world like this anyway. You know they have a gym there yeah?

So they tell me.

[ Reflexive, under her breath, a bitter half-smile twitching at her mouth. Yeah; whatever she thinks it's fit for, the gym would have her sweet ass in a sling if she tried at all for a fraction of a fraction of her proper routine. It's a bitch, is what it is; such is life. ]

I might be two or three minutes out from doing any proper conditioning. And I can't fucking bear to run on a machine when there's any alternative.

[ Never mind she'd rather risk being jumped in the street -- they alsk tell her that doesn't happen here, so much, but who hasn't heard that one before -- than let anyone she'll have to see again catch her hobbling along on the treadmill set to snail's pace. The other thing's true as well.

She tries letting go of the bench; it goes as well as she could have reasonably hoped, and she jams both hands into her back pockets. Waster's parade rest. Head half-tilted, weight on one hip, even if her meat complains; you know how to play it, lovergirl. Match the bearing. ]

I'd spent one hell of a lot of time cooped up in shuttles before I washed up here. If I've got to drag my sorry ass out the door at all, I want some fresh air with it.

'M fine.

[ Fuck. Between that and the way she grips at Misty's arm the second it's offered -- Wake knows which one she'd believe, too, and it's fucking humiliating.

She lets herself be steered over to the couch, regardless -- sitting fucking hurts too, even if it's not quite so much as her research would have led her to expect. That part of the damage has been healing up far too fucking nicely, sore and wretched as she still is, now the thing's out of her at last. Doesn't want to think about it. Doesn't want to think. ]

I mentioned it's been a bit of a fucking time. As far as I can tell, nothing's too far off from viable. Ribs might be a bit dubious, but I doubt it's worth letting your dinner burn over.

[Beau just shrugs in a very 'suit yourself' sort of look at Wake's explaination, and was going to say something about how she had to get used to the machine thing too and yet she's out here herself, but the last sentence gives her pause. Shuttle? That's a new word, one she has no real context for. The context says it's inside, something tight, but apparently for long form travel-- a car? She'd go nuts. Can't be.]

A shuttle for... what? Or uh, too what. My place didn't really do the whole electricity thing like this one does.

[Well she's kind of close, at least.]

[Luckily (?) for Wake, Misty isn't going to insist on a Medical visit - not when she has some supplies squirreled away here, and not when keeping Wake in the apartment gives Misty an opportunity to look after her all by herself.]

I'll turn down the heat and let it simmer a little.

[She says, giving Awake's arm a quick, slightly-too-hard squeeze before she scurries back into the kitchen.]

And then I'll come back and take a look at those ribs!

[ Fuck. Well, she'd gathered, hadn't she, that this world -- and she is not, thanks, dealing with its claim to be the Earth as of the immediate before times, she's just not -- and most of the ADI blow-ins were pre-eschaton to some degree or another. It's not so hard to deal with, moment to moment, if Wake keeps on thinking of them as a handful of weird little edge-colony refugees; it's just fucking wild when she has to explain. ]

Mine's further down the line from this. Gone interstellar. Once you're spread out on that scale, staying actually on the move means a fair amount of time sat on your ass in a tin can in the middle of flat black nothing. If you like irony.

[ She tips her head, considering; it's probably worth finding the illusion of common ground on this one. ]

You spend any time around... hell if I know, long-haul caravans, or shipping trade? It's a few orders of magnitude up from there.

[Interstellar. Space. Huh. Beau isn't necessarily as off-base for this as some people might be- she's been to different planes, certain kinds of space travel, just a different... space. Kind of like the difference between moving laterally and horizontally.]

Spent a couple months on a ship pretty recently. I mean, it was a pirate ship, but only sort of.

[That's an even longer story, but one that could be told over drinks maybe. It's fine. Not relevant here so much.]

So you guys could travel through it but you couldn't teleport? We had a guy that could do that. Sure it's difficult but circles make it easier.

[She's kind of used to Not having what these people do, so now she's interested to think she's experienced something they haven't.]

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

LOG | October general | OPEN

run, run (adjusting to the neighborhood or failing to, OTA)

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move-in!

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