diamond heart

clearliquors:

BOLD what applies to your muse.

PLACE IN SOCIETY

financial: wealthy / moderate / poor / in poverty.

medical: fit / moderate / sickly / disabled / disadvantaged.

class or caste: upper / middle / working / slave / unsure.

education: qualified / unqualified / studying.

criminal record: yes, for major crimes / yes, for minor crimes / no.

FAMILY

married - happily / married - unhappily / engaged or betrothed / partnered / single / divorced / separated.

has a child or children / has no children / wants children.  

close with sibling(s) / not close with sibling(s) / has no siblings / sibling(s) is deceased.

orphaned / adopted / disowned / raised by birth parent(s).

TRAITS + TENDENCIES

extroverted / introverted / in between.

disorganized / organized / in between.

close minded / open-minded  / in between.

calm / anxious / in between.

disagreeable / agreeable / in between.

cautious / reckless / in between.

patient / impatient / in between.

outspoken / reserved / in between.

leader / follower / in between.

empathetic / unemphatic / in between.

optimistic / pessimistic / in between.

traditional / modern / in between.

hard-working / lazy / in between.

cultured / un-cultured / in between 

loyal / disloyal / in between.

faithful / unfaithful / unknown.

BELIEFS:

monotheist / polytheist / atheist / agnostic.

belief in ghosts or spirits: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care.

belief in an afterlife: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care.

belief in reincarnation: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care.

belief in aliens: yes  / no / don’t know / don’t care.

religious: orthodox / liberal / in between / not religious.

philosophical: yes / no.

SEXUALITY + ROMANTIC INCLINATION

heterosexual / homosexual / bisexual / asexual / pansexual.

sex repulsed / sex neutral / sex favourable.

romance repulsed / romance neutral / romance favourable. uninterested, but…

sexually: adventurous / experienced / naive / inexperienced / curious.

potential sexual partners: male / female / agender / other / none / all.

potential romantic partners: male / female / agender / other / none / all.

ABILITIES

combat skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none.

literacy skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

artistic skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

technical skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none.

HABITS

drinking alcohol: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

smoking: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess. 

other narcotics: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

medicinal drugs: never / sometimes  / frequently / to excess. 

indulgent food: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess. 

splurge spending: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

date & time : october 31st, 9:05pm location : masquerade ball, multiple rooms  status : closed @augustustullett

DATA would admit that, in hindsight, it was unwise to allow Cat to leave the ship. Despite the careful calculations that allowed for him to assess the unwise risk that accompanied taking an animal off of the Concord without the preliminary consideration for some type of leash or harness, DATA had taken one look at the lonely eyes of a guest uninvited to the ball and quickly scooped up Cat. Hidden beneath the bulky coat he had no need to wear, DATA had smuggled the cat back to Theon’s apartment and now to the masquerade ball.

Unable to keep Cat quiet as the animal fidgeted with frustration at being confined to the small space shielded by his jacket, DATA fled to the bathrooms at his first opportunity of independence. Anxious to allow Cat the freedom the animal so desperately desired, DATA didn’t both locking the door before allowing the cat to drop to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, reaching out his hand to give Cat a forgiving pat. Still growling with something akin to anger, Cat ducked away from his touch and quickly skittered toward the door. A low sigh left his lips as DATA slowly moved toward the animal again; but before he could reach down to scoop Cat up into the safety of his arms, the heavy wooden door slid open with the entrance of the party’s many patrons.

Cat didn’t waste a moment, darting through the closing door to escape to the ballroom. Panic shot through his form as DATA lunged for the animal. Wide eyes and desperate hands, however, were blocked by the suit-clad legs of the stranger still standing in his way. “Move! Move! Move!” he yelled up at the man, only recognizing after he had shouted that the masked face staring down at him was one that held the familiarity of a crewmember. “Gus, Cat escaped.”

As unwise as it was to bring an animal onto the Concord, Augustus still didn’t regret bringing Cat onto the ship. The animal had a mostly unobtrusive presence, even if it seemed she only really liked DATA and Gus himself. She spent most of her time in his office or his bunk, curled up at the foot of his bed as they both slept. However, he had no intention of taking her off the ship until they left it for good. No matter how little he was looking forward to the ball, it didn’t cross his mind to bring another guest.

So, when something ran past his ankles, Augustus didn’t think much of it. There was a lot to look at in the ballroom, from glamorous dresses to ridiculous masks. Not until DATA spoke to him directly, the mask unable to hide the android’s piercing eyes. “You…brought Cat here?” he asked, wondering if maybe he had too much to drink. Maybe he wasn’t hearing things correctly. Though, the more he thought about it, the more it seemed like something DATA would do. Though it did surprise him that DATA got the animal out right under Theon’s nose. “Come on, I think she went this way,” Augustus said, grabbing the android’s hand and pulling him through the crowd.

Cat, admittedly, was smarter than the pair had given her credit for. After weaving through the crowds in the ballroom, Augustus pulled his friend into the hallway. “Did you ever think of maybe getting Cat a leash before taking her to a ball?” he asked, leaning against the wall with a sigh. “I…I don’t know where to look next. Can you hear her or anything?”

Cairo settled her glass down on the table and watched the liquid sway and settle. It tasted like ash; the tannins were so strong they prickled her tongue, but its effect was welcome. The lights in the ballroom had been so bright and glaring, and the people so loud, but now the glamor of it all subsided into something soft and warm. This was palatable. A thought came: I wish it could be like this always… Best not to indulge some wishes, lest they metastasize into something uglier. 

Her gaze turned to Augustus and she smiled back at him genuinely, lazily. She watched him advance toward her and moved only to stroke the thin neck of her glass. “Well, that depends on your taste. I’ve known people who chug whiskey for sport, and people who can’t stomach mimosas.” She looked sadly at her drink. “Wherever you fall, I recommend you let me make it for you. This bartender couldn’t pour a drink if her life depended on it.” 

Her eyes flicked back to Augustus. She offered him a forced smile and not much else. “I’ve never liked Harbor.” Her mouth formed over the word carefully, like she was trying not to taste it. She wet her lips and focused her attention on tracing the constellations of her gown with her hand. “Or- I suppose I did once, but that was a long time ago. You know how children outgrow certain flavors, how their palates mature? It’s like that. This is too sweet for me.” She breathed out a sigh. “I hope the night’s been kinder to you?” 

Augustus wondered if any number of drinks would help him feel more at ease in the ballroom. He wanted to believe with another glass in his hand, he wouldn’t feel so tense. It seemed as if Cairo was already starting to relax, and he ached for some sort of comfort in the blinding lights and dazzling decorations. There had been a reason he agreed to join the crew onboard the Argo: he didn’t want to be a part of this world anymore. However, it seemed it was impossible for him to escape.

Laughing at her next comment, he sank back into the chair. Might as well make himself comfortable. It was easier talking to a familiar face, much more so than any of the numerous strangers surrounding them in the ballroom. “I’d say I’m somewhere in the middle?” he said, his words sounding like more of a question than anything. “Is she really that bad? I guess I only got a glass of champagne last time,” he said, a small smile on his lips. “Just surprise me, yeah?” He trusted her, as he knew what she could do with food. And though he tried to pretend otherwise, he hadn’t ever been much of a drinker. The sling shared with Fox weeks ago on the Concord had been his first taste of alcohol.

The way Cairo described her experience with Harbor seemed to mirror the psychologist’s own. He had always felt a sense of otherness in this place, but he blended in well. This was just another night where he had to pretend to be someone he wasn’t. “Well, it hasn’t been awful,” he said with a bit of a shrug. “I just didn’t expect to find myself back in Harbor so soon.”  

There was something truly wrong in the universe if Fox Sayre was wearing a tie. Stuffy, anxious, uncomfortable — all emotions he was desperate to smother, so he could just get on with it. Some people were enjoying this evening’s theatrics, to some extent at least; the glee with which Raven took a razor to his face and wrangled him into a monkey suit was unmistakable. He could see the appeal, in a distant kind of way. When he took a step back, away from himself, it could be a fun evening. They got to dress up, look pretty, drink for free and rub elbows with society’s most powerful. They had a role to play, of course, beyond socialite or diplomat, but reminding them all of that would put a damper on the game, so Fox stewed by himself, over a cocktail that tasted terrible, for his pedestrian sensibilities

He wasn’t sure if Gus’ presence was a shining light in the evening or not — it was yet to be seen. It must’ve said something awful about Fox, that he expected the world to crash so badly around them, but, on the other hand, it really spoke to how incredible Gus was, because he kept impressing him, time and time again. There was a sickness that washed over him when he saw how easily Gus carried the suit he was wearing, how he could hold his head so high and glide through the crowd like these were his people (and they were, weren’t they?) Fox was waiting for the other hand to drop; the proof that they were from different worlds — and those worlds were so far apart they were irreconcilable. He hated to be a cynic, and tried to wrap his iron heart in a blanket of idealism — “The world’s fucked, so it’s our job to fix it.” He was looking for all the wrongs in Gus, and didn’t know what he was more scared of: finding them or not.

Still, it wasn’t like Fox to be so brutally cerebral. He wasn’t one to stay in his head — not with a drink in his hand and a gorgeous man by his side. The chaos could come later. Maybe, just maybe, Gus was the universe extending an olive branch — “I’ve put you through some shit. Here’s something good.” Fox knew he’d be a fool, to rebuke this kind of chance. He’d run the risk. So that’s what he did: took the olive branch — or, rather, Gus’s hand. Throwing the rest of his drink back, he let it burn down his throat before he responded, but his direction was clear, even in the absence of words. Footsteps leading to the dance floor was an unequivocal yes. “Let’s do it. Can’t do this ballroom shit to save my life, so you’re gonna have to bear with me while I crush your toes, but I’m game.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Augustus almost found himself regretting it. He knew who Fox was: he would never settle down, never stop moving. This world wasn’t for him, even if he had to attend a ball and play pretend for one night. This world wasn’t where he wanted to be. Besides, he thought he knew what their relationship was. It was stolen moments on the Concord, nothing more than a way to pass the time. Not exactly what Augustus wanted, but it seemed like the only thing they knew how to navigate. And yet, when Fox’s hand slipped into his own, a small smile appeared on his lips. He was being tugged towards the dance floor before Fox had said much of anything, but it was clear that he was up for at least one dance.

“Don’t worry. I’ll teach you,” he offered, his voice more cheerful than it had been moments ago. Fox was a good distraction: from the realities of the mission and from the reminders of the past that surrounded him. He felt like he was drowning whenever he set foot into the ballroom, but somehow Fox was keeping him afloat. A kindness he may not deserve from the rebel, but one he so desperately needed. One he wasn’t sure anyone else on the crew could provide.

Once they made it to a relatively empty portion of the dance floor, Augustus stopped and tugged on Fox’s hand to get him to pause as well. For some reason, facing the man like this made him nervous. His heart was racing, and he could feel the warmth rising to his cheeks. It was foolish, he knew. The rebel had given him so much more in the days before this, the nights shared on the ship. But here, it felt different. He knew there would be eyes on them, something new for both of them. He shook the fear off, the uncertainty that came with this night. Fox had agreed to this, he wanted this as much as Augustus did.

With a gentle touch, he guided Fox’s free hand to settle on his own waist, before his found the man’s shoulder. He kept hold of the man’s other hand, squeezing it gently before stepping backwards, rocking in time to the music. “Just follow me, okay?” he asked, the words barely a whisper. They were surrounded by people on the dance floor, but Gus could only focus on him. They were closer than they had been all night, and part of him ached to keep him like this all night. There was work to be done, but he only wanted Fox.

“I don’t think I told you, but you look amazing tonight. I kinda miss the leather jacket, but damn,” he said, still rocking slowly with the rebel to the music floating form the other side of the room. It felt like another moment snatched from a dream, too good for it to actually be real.

As polite as ever, I see.

She smiles in response, cheshire-cat, white-tooth grin. Their interactions are growing increasingly similar, a mirrored image of bite and bark, thus she ponders the thickness of his skin; thinks how deep she will need to dig. Peel back the fragility of his rib cage, hope a man armed for a war may appear - something iron-strong, someone in soldier form. It’s not tough love if love is missing, but her words have scathed too many and the thin lines are now blurred. 

She wants to survive, she knows she cannot if they die early.

“It depends what else accompanies the thank you,” she adds, an upwards lift to a single brow. Though he were correct, politeness cost nothing in a world which was built on the tailcoats of prosperity, he addressed the matter to her alone - as if she were all light and soft heart, not sharp claws and a venomous bite. “Even still, bartender or Benefactor, I thank whoever provided the liquor.” Him too, for providing it at her feet, but she need not profess it.

Her attention is piqued by his admission, she feels it too. 

“Something in common?” The queries comes with confusion. “I’m also having great difficulty dealing with our overtly pleasant company. Something often strikes me a little odd with those who are so outwardly nice, it’s often done with further motive, is it not?”

Augustus wonders if his politeness will ever get him anywhere with Kallia. They’ve played the same game countless times over the months they’ve spent together on the Concord. It’s a small ship, and it’s in his job description to at least try to get everyone in for a therapy session once a week. Their meetings, when they take place, are more like sparring matches. Augustus has grown used to them, but he still wants to try and break through. Though she may see him as the enemy, that’s never been farther from the truth. He just wants to help.

“I’ll drink to that,” he said with a laugh, raising his drink in her direction before taking another sip. It wasn’t his first drink of the night, and each trip to the bar was making it easier to handle the theatrics surrounding them. No part of him enjoyed these nights before he joined this mission, and that hadn’t changed on his months away from Wrotham. It doesn’t shock him that she’s uncomfortable, but she seems surprised that he feels the same way.

“It looks like it,” he said with a smile, glad he could surprise her for a change. “They all want something, or they wouldn’t be here. Even if it’s just to make them look better, none of this is done with good intentions.” It made his skin crawl, the way that some of the attendees spoke to him. He didn’t want to be a part of this world, not anymore. “We only have to stick around for a few more hours, right?” he said with a bit of a sigh. Hours seemed like too many.

“No, you’re fine,” Pyre shook his head. He was still getting to know Gus, their relationship recently transforming from psychologist and patient to sometimes friendly. Pyre liked Gus outside the office, when his job wasn’t to analyze everything Pyre said and did under a microscope. It made him weary, at least when it came to uncomfortable topics. At least now Pyre was getting used, and starting to enjoy, occasionally opening up and speaking his mind. Still, he was always weary of the things he said around Gus, not knowing how the man would take even an off-beat joke. “You just surprised me.” 

“Oh, right,” he leaned back against the railing, cursing himself for having such an odd conversation. Pyre didn’t know Gus extremely well, but he didn’t seem to work in innuendos and subtleties. Thinking he was doing either of those things was ridiculous on his part, a reaction he now regretted. “She’s inside somewhere,” he glanced inside the windows he could see. In the sea of people, she was surely there. 

“We can talk about her, I didn’t mean…” he trailed off, not knowing how he’d even begin to defend himself. Not without telling the whole story of where he’d been tonight; he could surely get through stuttering, if he tried. “We’re great. Really great,” his mind flashed back to earlier, and he brushed his thumb across his mouth, suppressing the smile wanting to grow. 

With some of his crewmates, the switch between friends and therapist was easy. Effortless, even. It was only a matter of time before he came comfortable with the crew. With the others, however, Augustus knew that it was hard to adjust to their dynamic outside of the office (if there even was one). He had no desire to be seen as only his job description, though he knew it was hard for many of them to get past what he was onboard to do. Their captain, for example. He found he enjoyed talking to Pyre, however nervous and jumpy it might make him. Though he knew how Fox felt about him, he wouldn’t let it taint his view of the man. They were all stuck on the ship, why did it matter what they had done in the past?

“I assumed as much,” he said with a shrug, letting himself lean against the railing as well. It felt so much better to be out in the fresh air instead of surrounded by masked strangers, though he knew he would have to re-enter the ballroom sooner or later, rejoin the rest of the crew making polite small talk. “Really great, huh?” he said, chuckling as he glanced over at the man. “What exactly does that mean?” Even now, he felt himself falling into his therapist habits. They weren’t meant to be prying questions; Augustus was curious about the man’s life. He never had to pretend to care about his crewmates, but found himself genuinely wanting them to be happy. It seemed as if Pyre had found something to brighten his spirits, something he deserved after everything that had happened in the desert.  

date & time : october 31st, 9:24pm location : masquerade ball; bar   status : with @augustustullett

She’d only been there an hour, and already her patience was wearing thin. For someone who knew how to keep watch throughout endless nights, poised between enemy fire and her own sleeping battalion, Cairo was indecently tense. Then again, this was different. This was wasted time. Then was a matter of life or death. Cairo was more than capable of staying still when the situation demanded it — still until her joints begged for movement, until the sun rose — but she only liked to when the cause was noble. When Cairo urged Kit to take this gig, she never anticipated attending Harbor balls — like elites too preoccupied with their own words to do any meaningful work — as being part of the job description. Perched on a barstool, her long dress flowing to the ground, Augustus’ voice played in her head. 

You’re here. Do you regret it?

Cairo clenched her jaw and took another sip of a dark red, almost black wine. It warmed her stomach and softened her arms, but did little to damper her acuity, which was why — when a sharp-suited, onyx-eyed man came to sit at the opposite end of the table — Cairo recognized him under his mask. There were chairs between them, but all empty. It gave the impression that the two of them were a pair of bookends refusing to come together. “Hello, doctor,” she said, a way for her to announce her presence. “Can I buy you a drink?” 

Augustus found himself back at the bar for the second time that night, mostly as an excuse to escape yet another barrage of questions. This night was exhausting him already, though it didn’t come as a surprise. This invitation, like the mission that came before, wasn’t supposed to be easy. They all knew the Benefactor better than that.

Though Augustus had seen that there was someone else at the bar, he figured he would give them some distance. He saw no point in striking up another conversation with a stranger. It didn’t take long, however, for the woman to recognize him. “Hello,” he said, a small smile coming to his lips. That voice, at least, was familiar. Though they weren’t friends exactly, he didn’t have to play a role with her. “I’d like that,” he said with a nod, figuring they could close the gap between them. “What would you suggest?” he asked, waving his hand at the bar as he made his way over to the chair closest to her, already tiring of the champagne he tried once he arrived.

“How has your night been?” he asked, almost sure of her answer. She seemed just as uneasy, just as tense around the strangers. He knew the feeling, at least. Each conversation offered a little too much information to who Augustus was quickly realizing was his enemies. They might not have stuck out, but he wasn’t sure the crew would be able to seamlessly blend into their surroundings.

LOCATION: Masquerade Ball, bathroom DATE & TIME: October 31st 2178, 8:31pm AVAILABILITY: Closed @augustustullett

Orion had never been a runner. In the tossup between fight and flight, they always leaned towards the former, curled their fists and prepared to give battle. Resistance was at the core of who they were, defining their life. But tonight, wobbling in unfamiliar heels, their hair curls pinned up on their head, they could have sprinted until the end of the universe. The air is toxic, Orion thought, chest heaving underneath black velvet, it is poisoned by the person I might have once been. This event was entirely too familiar, filled with those they had shared their childhood with. They - streamlined synthetics, with their hearts chiseled out - were their born class, a creed Orion had turned their back on. In that moment, they were grateful for the masks - for both hiding the familiar and concealing their identity. For, no doubt, they could pick some of these apart by name.

Their lives might have divulged, but it was the fact that they had once been of the same strand that terrified Orion the most.

Drink on hand, they sipped on expensive champagne, its touch unfamiliar on their tongue. I thought I had forgotten its sweetness. But it appeared they were doomed to never forget, cursed to always remain partially the person they spurned. You can’t take the Voix out of Orion, a voice whispered, sounding remarkably like their father, no matter how hard you try. Shaking their head, trying to forget their doubts, Orion pivoted - nearly colliding with another. A muffled apology soon died on their lips as their eyes flickered to meet the strangers - a piercing artificial blue staring back at them. Orion had only seen one shade that vibrant before, a lifetime ago, in a man who had promised undying loyalty to their Father. His eyes narrowed and Orion could see their thoughts begin to churn, trying to place them.

…and so they ran. Not, regrettably, out of the farce of an occasion all together, but to the bathroom, where refuge, they hoped could be found. Chest heaving from an increased pace, Orion burst through the door, leaning back against it to impede anyone else from getting in. It was only then that they looked up and found they were not alone.

A heavy smile graced their lips. “You too huh?”

The night was young, yet Augustus was ready to return to the ship. It felt more like home than the Harbor ever had, though he spent countless years there. The cool metal walls of the Concord were more welcoming than the beautiful mansions ever had been, but he had to play along for now. Though it wasn’t a life-threatening mission, he found himself wishing that it had been. That would have been easier than facing his past.

Wherever he turned, Augustus seemed to find someone he had spoken with years before. When you were your mother’s date to countless parties, it was bound to happen. The night got easier as he downed a few drinks, but he was still uncomfortable as he spoke to two more synthetics, their eyes surveying him as he swirled what was left of his champagne. It wasn’t hard for them to tell he didn’t truly belong here, his skin delicate compared to their almost impenetrable bodies. Often, these conversations felt like inquisitions, getting all the proof they needed that they were better. That’s what they lived for, it seemed.

A hand fell on his wrist, the stranger asking if he had come with anyone tonight. With only a nod, he pulled away from her grasp and held up the glass, unable to say anything. Hopefully, it seemed as if he needed a refill. There weren’t many places to escape to, he had realized. The balcony always had at least one person on it, and the hallways were full of people passing from one place to the next. He was tired of talking, tired of performing for the group of people the Benefactor surrounded themselves with. He didn’t owe the mysterious figure anything, but it still felt like a betrayal as he pushed the door to the bathroom open.

He had a few glorious minutes to himself before the door slammed open, a figure in black suddenly leaning against the door to keep it shut. It took only a moment for him to realize it was Orion, their face obscured by another familiar mask. A sigh of relief fell from his lips, and he let himself lean against the bathroom wall once more. “Yeah,” he said, unsure of what else they needed to hear. He knew they felt the same way he did, haunted by ghosts of their past. It was comforting, at least, to know there was someone who understood.

“How long do you think we can hide in here?” he asked, before tipping the last bit of champagne into his mouth.  It was going to be a long night, of that he was sure.

She stands here a little too long, a doe-eyed deer stood parallel with an intense hue of a car’s light. As if she were mortar, it’s an unfamiliar feeling which leaves her rooted in place; she feels compressed, squeezed too tightly to fit into this scene. It’s a questionable state, to believe this sense of unease radiates from her, but it’s a circumstance unlikely to lure the watchful eyes of the masked anonymous. To them, she is for the taking, all dolled up in straps with no blade to lengthen their narrow distance. It’s uncharacteristic; she’s not her when she’s dormant, not volcanic, preparing to erupt at whatever force is before her; one can only bubble over, fizz with a disappointing outcome, at the acknowledgement of what was now contained within this cage.

Her creators, her cause. 

“Ten drinks would suffice,” she speaks without caution, but questions his intentions. Rightfully so, she believes, their last encounter was not a given purpose to seek her out once more. Perhaps he likes the conflict, allows him the opportunity to relinquish contained steam. It would not be the first time she found similarities in those with a considerable contrast. Still, her hand stretches out, coiling around the neck of the flute and swirling it within her grasp. 

“Is this a bargaining chip, or are you trying to curb the moment I compare your suit to the carpet?”

Maybe he should have taken a moment to consider if talking to Kallia was worth it. Even if he couldn’t find the rest of the crew, a different familiar mask hidden in the crowd, maybe strangers would have been better company than the woman who seemed to dislike him more than anyone aboard the Concord. Thankfully, she took the second drink from him and he took another sip from his own. God knew he would need it tonight. “As polite as ever, I see,” he finally says, a sigh falling from his lips. Knowing he made the choice to come talk to her didn’t make her words hurt any less. He should be used to the insults, or expect them at the very least.

“A thank you wouldn’t hurt,” he continues, his words far more biting than one may expect from the therapist’s mouth. With a glance back out to the ballroom, his eyes falling on far too many potential threats to leave the woman’s side. “You’re a familiar face. I don’t know how much more of them I can take,” he said, a lazy hand gesturing to the closest group. Something told him that he should be better at this, or at least be able to withstand more than just a few hours of small talk. These were his people, or at least they had been months ago. So why did it now feel like he was in foreign territory?

At this point in the night, Pyre found himself out on the balcony, standing apart from the groups around him, letting the cool breeze hit his skin. The party had been far from what he was expecting so far. Instead of being stressful and filled with plenty of situations that made him want to reach for the gun tucked into the back of his slacks, it had been marked by mundane conversations with the intimidating elite, arguments with members of the crew he was still having trouble adjusting to, warm chatter with those beginning to feel like family, and more. His cheeks still felt flushed, a burning smile still on his face, signatures of where and with whom he had just come from. 

Pyre didn’t notice Gus approaching him until he heard his voice, and nearly jumped at the sound. Still, he tried to turn like he wasn’t startled, like his wasn’t still so far mentally from this party. “Hey, Gus,” Pyre leaned back against the railing, digging his hands into his pocket. At the sound of her name leaving Gus’ mouth, Pyre couldn’t help but freeze, his paranoid mind instantly wondering why Gus was asking–could he read his mind? How did he know that she was all he was thinking about now: her giggling and shushing him, the way she looked at him before leaning in for a kiss, the way she felt–stop. 

“Eretreia,” Pyre started slowly, looking away from Gus and nodding, trying to get his mind back in the moment. He could feel a flush creeping through him, the nervous reaction of someone who felt caught in the act. “Eretreia is… great.” He hoped. What was she thinking about now, inside the hall, surely twirling with someone else? “Why… why do you ask?” 

Augustus watched the man jump and held back for a moment, worried he was disturbing Pyre. He knew many of his crewmates had escaped to the balcony tonight, trying to avoid the intimidating stares of the wealthy individuals inside. None of them truly belonged here, even those who had come from Harbor before. After the months spent on the ship, the trauma experienced in the desert, and the long journey back home, he was surprised the crew was managing as well as they were. “I didn’t mean to scare you, sorry,” he said, his voice soft. The man turned to face him, however, which Gus took as a good sign.

His brows furrowed as Pyre stammered out a few words, wondering what had gotten him so nervous. “I haven’t seen her yet tonight, and I figured you might know where she was,” he said, glancing over at his companion. It was hard to call him a friend, but after the session where Pyre had bared his soul in his office, Augustus felt more comfortable calling him that. “It’s just, uh, a topic of conversation. We can talk about something else if you’d like,” he said after taking another sip from the glass in his hand. “Things between you are alright, aren’t they?” he asked, his voice full of genuine concern. He couldn’t imagine what was running through the man’s mind, and maybe it had been a mistake to bring up the woman in his life. But that’s what friends did, right?

DATE & TIME: October 31st, 2178; 9:01 pm

WITH: @kalliawexler

Augustus had to admit that the Benefactor knew how to host a ball. He didn’t know what he was expecting from the invite; merely the mention of Harbor should have been enough for him to guess what was in store. The extravagance dripping from the walls was a sight to behold, but also a sight he couldn’t stomach at the moment. He had spent enough time talking to synthetics with perfect skin and piercing eyes as he spun tales about his current job. Therapy didn’t change much if you were on a spaceship, and he had his own practice for long enough that he could maintain the lie. That’s all the ball seemed to consist of, so far at least. With an empty glass in hand, he excused himself for a refill, something that was desperately needed if he was to keep making friends.

While he was at the bar, waiting patiently for his next drink, he caught sight of a familiar mask in the crowd. Though she might not be happy to see him, he asked for another drink and soon had two cool glasses in his hands. Unsurprisingly, she was alone and far enough from clumps of people that she couldn’t be drawn into the conversation. As uncomfortable as he was here, he was sure Kallia’s discomfort was much worse. He never pretended to know what horrors she had seen, but he was sure some of the people in this room were the reason she had to endure them in the first place. “You looked like you could use a drink,” he said cautiously as he approached, holding one glass out to the woman. The woman scared him, but there was nothing she could really do in the middle of the ball. Her biting words and her sharp scowl were the only things that could wound him tonight. 

DATE & TIME: October 31st, 2178; a time when he’s not talking to whoever else I’ve plotted with

WITH: his kinda bf

Out of all the places Augustus could imagine they would visit on an assignment from the Benefactor, Harbor would not have been on the list. It was his old home, yes, but something about it seemed foreign now. Close to a year had passed on the ship, and it felt as if what he had seen tainted the place. That wasn’t entirely the rebels’ faults, as he already felt distain for his childhood residence when he moved out. However, there was no denying they had opened his eyes to more of what was wrong with their society. He felt dirty for being there, for blending in so well. Behaving at parties, making small talk with all the people richer than you who knew more than you, it was how he grew up. There had to be people in the crew who were just as uncomfortable, maybe even more so. Including the man standing next to him.

It hadn’t been a conscious decision on his part, but for most of the night Augustus had stayed close to Fox. Whether it was to make sure the man was faring well in the new environment or if he just didn’t want to leave his side was yet to be seen, but it kept him from getting too caught up in his past. That and the alcohol. He was nursing another golden drink; a special offered for the night’s ball. Just something to keep the edge off, he told himself. Even now, he found himself nervous around Fox, but he was certainly the most familiar face (or mask) around the ballroom. Finding himself glancing over at the rebel once more, he couldn’t help but smile. Raven had dressed him, the woman making it abundantly clear that she deserved the credit. It was hard to deny he looked good in something other than a leather jacket, though he hadn’t worked up the nerve to tell him that yet. Would they ever talk about what this was, or would they keep dancing around the truth?

Finishing the drink, Augustus set the empty glass on the bar. He was getting antsy, the lull in activity making him nervous. Making a split-second decision, he turned to Fox once more and rested a hand on his arm. “Would you, uh, want to dance with me?” he asked, his smile only growing. There was no room for snarky comments, no laughs. If Fox was going to refuse the offer, Augustus would understand. The crew was scattered about, and there was probably something more important that they could be doing. But after all, the Benefactor told them to enjoy themselves. Augustus couldn’t imagine that with anyone but Fox.