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KNUCKLES WHITE DRY || ricky & bode

[[  Ricky watches him intently with the sort of slow, thought about blink that’s nearly difficult to pry his eyes open at the end of it. Exhaustion’s setting in. He’ll have to head off to bed soon. Hopefully he’s wasted enough time out here that Charlie will be too busy to accidentally bump into him.

The other man explains the story, and it makes Ricky pout. His determined frown is now one of discomfort. It makes him hesitate for a moment with the cigarette hovering above his lips. He can entertain the guy a bit, maybe? Better to be thought of as an idiot than be hated right now. ]]

Ricky. Et tu? [[ Ricky takes in another mouthful of smoke, mildly annoyed he’s not supposed to swallow the smoke. It seems like a real waste. This time he thankfully doesn’t cough — there’s very little smoke to show for it though. ]]

[The other really does look like he’s about to pass out in the dirt again. Which... would definitely be annoying because Bode didn’t want to have to feel like that much of a dick by walking away, but if he fell asleep again, he absolutely wouldn’t hang around. And he doesn’t get paid enough for anything he does to try and help this man back to his dorm. 

He raises an eyebrow, just a bit, watching the journey his face goes on. Had he made him uncomfortable? He didn’t care.]

Bode, [He replies, taking just a long, normal drag on his cigarette, letting the smoke out in a slow, thin stream. He grins just a bit as Ricky tries again, and at the very least doesn’t choke. He should give him some credit for trying; for listening to a stranger tell him to do something that could just make him look like a fool.]

on the prospect of possibilities || alois & bode

[[ ‘Just another cross to bear.’ How aggressively dour and terribly on point. Alois feels largely the same, in case it wasn’t already obvious, but he nods along to Bode’s assessment regardless. For a moment he wonders if it’s better or worse that they both have the same borderline bleak, largely sterile view of their own newfound abilities. Simply something else to have to deal with on top of all the other shit the end of the world has rained down.

Almost as quickly he decides that, yeah, he’d prefer Bode’s viewpoint to most others he can think of. Alois certainly wouldn’t mesh well with a trainer who found boundless enthusiasm as a side effect, who considers them ‘evolved’ instead of simply Infected. He’s always been a man of realism, which is perhaps rich coming from someone with an arm straight out of science fiction. Maybe that’s why he has difficulty accepting his Infection for what it is; he can only stomach embodying one trope at a time – especially when the second has only ever been on the fritz.

So, when Bode puts it as simply as he ‘wouldn’t say no’ to a cure, Alois nods again. Obviously, he wouldn’t either. Nor is he about to argue that the world hasn’t gone to shit; he doesn’t think the most rosy-glassed person yet living could argue that point. ]] Yeah. People being able to lift rocks with their mind isn’t about to change that. [[ He wonders if the world would be any better unified if the Infections hadn’t developed. Could humanity have continued banding together in the face of global tragedy forever, if they hadn’t been struck with another divide instead? It hardly feels worth thinking about. The answer is either pointlessly optimistic or a foregone disappointment. ]]

Are you even gonna try and give me a pep talk to turn that around, or is your teaching style ‘the world’s gone to shit, so we might as well train you to make it marginally less shitty’? [[ Alois quips and glances sidelong at Bode with a hint of a smile, more good-natured about it now than he might’ve been moments ago. ]]

[Alois is pretty quiet in response to what Bode has to say. Just some nods. He wonders if he’s silent because he doesn’t agree or because he does and just has nothing really to add. 

He knows his viewpoints aren’t the most hopeful, and he knows his teaching style wasn’t suited to most people. Hell, he wouldn’t even call himself a teacher. Bode had never wanted to be a teacher. He wasn’t good with children and his expectations were too high; he’s sure students would constantly disappoint him. 

Bode gives his own small nod. Some people seemed to think that that made the end of the world better or far worse. Bode thinks it’s just a side effect; it’s not any worse than any of the other disastrous events that had taken place. And it certainly didn’t make any of this easier. It just gave people another thing to hate about others and sometimes themselves. 

Bode raises his brows at Alois.] Do you need a pep talk? Would you like me to lie to you, is that what you need? Because if it is, then it’s no wonder no one has helped you figure out how to control your Infection.

The world has gone to shit and we cannot control that. So we must find the things we can control, and take them. You find the things you can control in a bad situation to fool yourself that it’s better; that you still have any power over the direction your life is going. And when you lie to yourself, when you say ‘things aren’t as bad as they seem’ you aren’t fixing anything. You aren’t fighting back or taking control. You’re choosing ignorance, which is a foolish and immature thing to do. 

famous last words || draco & bode

I hope you are better than you think because I do not go easy. {Mimicking the stranger’s grin Draco starts to set up the game, leaning against the edge of the table to properly align the triangle.} Maybe you will surprise yourself.

.

No, you definitely don’t seem like the type to do so, and I’d hope for nothing less from an opponent. [he responds, just a bit of that grin still remaining, grabbing a cue.] Perhaps I will; it sounds like I better if I want to have any sort of chance.

of the upmost priority || bode & corbin

[Oh, bloody hell, was that a joke? That reluctant little smirk suggests it was and even if it hadn’t been, Corbin’s laughter officially makes it one.  It’s an amused chuckle, really, but it grows when Bode dryly remarks about Corbin calling him whatever he wants. The Delma flashes him a cheeky grin, tilting his head, spreading his hands.] Oi, would ya look at that—got me pegged already. Yer sharper than ya look, there, mate, [he teases, throwing in a wink for good measure. It’s bullshit, of course, because if anything, he’d say Bode does have a look of intelligence—craftiness, in the very least. But that’s what makes it funny—the irony, of course.] 

Pleasure though, Bode, [he continues, giving him a casual salute. The sunning cat imagery earns another laugh, and shite, Corbin may take a liking to this stuck up little prick after all (big prick—because bloody hell, one of the reasons Corbin had been sure for just a hair of a moment that it’d been the ghost of Pryor he’d been looking at, was the familiar and absurd height to the man), if he keeps up with this drawling sense of humour. It’s not like Corbin’s a stranger to prickly types.] 

I mean, ya got me there, I would look good enough worth a pretty penny, loungin’ about here in my knickers, but I ain’t a marine or anythin’ if that’s what yer askin’. Ain’t no Elite at all, actually, I just…. [he’s got to be careful. This bloke is clearly an Elite—the stripe on his PDD confirms it—but Corbin has no idea if he’s a Reformist or not. He’s sort of got Reformist vibes to him, possibly, though it’s really hard to say. And either way… Corbin’s pretty candid about his work on the black market with the general public, but with a brand new Elite who seems to have a stick up his arse? Yeah, even Corbin’s got more self preservation instincts than that.] 

Just mates with a lot of them marines down this way, is all. Used to, ah—help ‘em out with some shit back some time now. [Like getting their cocks off after several weeks confined to a boat with the same stinky crew, for example.] Not no more, though. [He’s being truthful, at least. But he won’t linger on the subject—it’s unlike him not to jump on any opportunity to boast about the trajectory of his ‘career’ path, given that he sort of enjoys the way it makes snobs uncomfortable—but he doesn’t want to promote too many questions, or get himself in trouble. Not when he doesn’t know this Bode bloke from Adam. ] 

Anyway, listen mate, I been watchin’ ya wander ‘round aimlessly a fair few minutes now. You sure you don’t wanna tell me what or who yer lookin’ for so I can lend a hand? I’ll even let ya take all the credit, pretend like ya didn’t stop for directions even for a second. [He smirks, lifting a brow as if to say, ‘what do you say?’] 

[Bode refrains from rolling his eyes. And grinning, because he almost does. Because it seems nothing’s going to put him off. Not really a sense of optimism or a self preservation tactic, it doesn’t seem. Bode’s just positive that the other loves the sound of his own voice and is going to keep talking regardless of what Bode says. Others probably found this charming and endearing. Bode thinks it’s annoying and an act of desperation, but at least it’s a little entertaining for now. 

He wouldn’t say he was warming to Corbin, but it’s starting to seem like even if he is rude or cold or distant, Corbin is going to just keep talking no matter what. And he’s an easy enough audience to get a laugh from. Not that that was his goal. But he at least didn’t get defensive as Bode said things about him. Of course, the things he said out loud weren’t as harsh as some of the thoughts in his head. Things he kept to himself because he didn’t want to piss off one of the only people who had tried to help him--even if Bode didn’t really accept or admit to wanting help. No, he doesn’t want help. But he does need it, at least a bit. Unfortunately.

He chuckles dryly.] Just about a penny, I’d say, [he retorts in that same almost joking, but still way too serious tone. But he nods.] You flatter yourself in thinking that’d I’d assume you were either of those things. [Another nod. Bode doesn’t care about Corbin’s past enough to ask, but there is a part of him wondering what he could possibly do to help out. Well... based on just his attitude so far, Bode can think of a few things. Some of them things he... doesn’t really want to think of.

I See You || Rosalind & Bode

[[ It took until right that moment for Rosalind to realize exactly how prying she was being. Her awkwardness had made her ramble, and her curiosity had gotten the better of her. The man was obviously taciturn, and yet she didn’t seem to be able to just shut up. Trying to salvage the situation, she made an effort to say less while making the same points. She could totally do this. ]]

Ah, well, if you’re fluent in ONLY four of the eight languages you know, I suppose that’s a bit less impressive. [[ The sarcasm dripped from her tongue like molasses. It was practically impossible for anyone to think she was serious. It was slightly intentional, but mostly just the way she was. The intention was to amp it up slightly so that he would know that she wasn’t actually insulting his intelligence or dedication. ]]

I said the same thing, trust me. Actually, I got into trouble once for no reason other than that the present Elite had already heard me mention it at least three other times. I’m honestly still surprised that it took that long for them to say anything about it. [[ It was clear that she was making the tone as lighthearted as possible. It could be useful to have a telepathic Elite as a friend. She was very careful not to think about it, though. There was no way of knowing his range, or whether or not he respected boundaries. Knowing who the telepaths were was practically a necessity. Regardless, she’d learned to mask the majority of her thoughts long ago. It was part of her ‘training’ within the NWRF. ]]

That’s pretty interesting. I figured as much with that. I’m sorry, I had trouble phrasing my thought. I more meant what you think in your own mind. Like, in my head I only have English, unless I need to use the French. Though, sometimes there are specific colloquialisms that are strictly French and don’t translate well enough. Does that make sense?

[[ His last comment pulled up one side of her mouth in an amused smile. ]] I have very interesting thoughts on a lot of things.

.

[He casts a look her way in response to her sarcasm. Something that may have come across as annoyed, but there’s a hint of amusement behind his eyes.] Definitely not as impressive as you almost learning French, [he replies, his sarcasm not quite as obvious that it’s meant to be playful and not degrading. But he hopes she catches that. That slight spark of humor still lingers in his eyes, so hopefully she can get a read on some part of it. 

He nods. Doesn’t comment on her tangent. Because he has nothing to add. Not really. The Reformists don’t like people sharing their Infections. Seeing how she spoke about it now, she was probably saying it all too proudly and that’s what pissed that Elite off. Bode has never proudly announced that he’s Infected. The only pride he has around his Infections is that he’s good at controlling them. Most of the time. Not that he would ever admit to struggling with anything at any point in his life.] 

Ah, yes. My head is mostly Swedish and English, and then--as you said--colloquialisms that don’t translate well. [he says. Because of course that made sense. You don’t learn several languages and know that some things just don’t translate.

famous last words || draco & bode

You play? It is criminal offence to have pool table but not use it. Loser buys drinks.

.

It’s been a long time since I’ve played. Not sure if I will even be any good, [Bode gives a sly, way too self assured grin as he steps closer to the table.] I’ll play a round. Rack up the balls.

on the prospect of possibilities || alois & bode

[[ Alois presses his lips into a thin line. He isn’t sure if the commentary on whining is meant to be personal, but he takes it personally. He doesn’t know Bode well enough to know if that’s meant to be tough love, and even if it was, he doesn’t know Bode nearly well enough to accept it. His thumb continues to brush along the side of his finger as he half-pays attention to the sound. ]]

Just trying to manage expectations. [[ He sounds a little defeated in saying so, since despite all desperate hope against hope, he understands what Bode is saying; superpowered hearing doesn’t come with superpowered control over sounds. It’s only an enhancement of what exists, and a crude enhancement at that. Amplification without any regard for subtlety. Maybe that was the issue; Alois always had too much of an appreciation for subtlety. ]]

I’ve tried earplugs, they’re… fine. [[ He doesn’t want to elaborate on his issues with them lest it sound like more whining. The reticence is also partly because Alois’ complaints sound similar to Bode’s issues when he’s without his hearing aids: he doesn’t like the muffled and indistinct. It’s frustrating to consider there’s no natural in-between, only sounds sharp as blades or muddled as a mouthful of pebbles. ]]

How do you feel about your Infections? [[ It may seem like a question out of the blue, and in some aspects, it is. But Alois feels as though he has at least some right to know. Is Bode a trainer because he believes the Infections are that next stage of evolution, and worth bettering and honing? Or is he here to buy into the NWRF attitude that controlling them is the best way to keep accidents under wraps, and nothing more? ]] Do you hope ‘they’ll’ figure out a way to make it all stop? [[ The question isn’t accusatory. With Alois’ cards already laid on the table, he’s obviously got no room to judge an answer no matter where it falls. ]]

[Bode slightly notices the face he makes. But he doesn’t care enough to make it known that he does. He doesn’t care if his words came across as harsh; he doesn’t care if he’s hurt Alois’ feelings. What a strange thing to worry about nowadays... so many people still walked on eggshells, trying their best not to push anyone’s buttons. And sure, maybe he could understand that around a deranged telekinetic, but what would someone like Alois do if he got pissed off that Bode was being too abrasive? Count his heart’s BPM? Well, Alois did have a metal arm, so maybe he wasn’t a great example. But he doesn’t really strike Bode as the type to get in a physical altercation just because someone said something a little too harsh.

He gives him a short nod.] I’ve found it helpful to expect the least. That way, when that’s what the world gives you, you’re less disappointed. [Sure, that’s a rather pessimistic way to look at the world, but Bode’s gotten used to it. And that advice--if you’d call it that--wasn’t given in a sad or brooding way. It’s just as flat and casual as everything else he’s said.

He nods again when he says he’s tried earplugs. He sort of understands what he means when he calls them fine. Bode’s had hearing aids that had been fine, but it was the cochlear that finally actually worked. And even then, it’s not perfect. But it’s better. But he doesn’t say any of that. He doesn’t want to and doesn’t feel a need to. 

Alois’ question does catch him off guard, but he supposes it shouldn’t. He is, after all, an Infections trainer. It was only fair for people to ask him questions about his own. It’s the follow up that’s a little more interesting, though. Bode pauses, thinks for a moment.] I feel like they’re just another cross to bear. Sitting around complaining about them won’t do me any good. I suppose in learning to control them, I accepted them as a part of me. But if someone came up to me and said that they had a way to get rid of them? I don’t think I’d say no. [Because he’s indifferent. He’s always been indifferent. He doesn’t see the Infections as some demonic curse, but they’re also not some godsent blessing that’s going to lead them into a new age of humans. What do some people call the Infected? The Evolved? He’s never really subscribed to that notion. Though he’d never ally himself with the NWRF. He knows they take things too far, but if they’re able to give them all some sort normalcy back? How bad could they be.

KNUCKLES WHITE DRY || ricky & bode

[[ The man doesn’t care for Ricky, that much is clear. He really should accept it by now, that there’s nothing he can do to turn the ride of this conversation. He’s an irritating weirdo who passed out in the dirt. That’s about all he knows of Ricky besides the fact he’s a whiny little bitch about getting some smokes.

There is a brief moment of solidarity—although calling it that is a stretch—at the dry laugh and commiseration over reactions to being an ‘Elite’. Felt like a title given to soften the blow of having a job post-apocalypse. Saying that, he’d take being an Elite over being nothing and no-one.

It seems Ricky’s question was odd enough that the guy just rolls with it. Ricky listens far too intently as he explains the steps. Ricky follows along even before he finishes fully explaining. Which leads to a failure of an exhale and Ricky just looking like a dead fish breathing smoke.

It takes way too much concentration. It’s distracting enough for him to somewhat calm down. Even if ‘calm down’ simply means pick a new, useless thing to get worked up about. He exhales again with no luck.

Ricky shuffles a bit, now sitting cross legged, intently tried to hold the smoke in his throat and pop it and — he just ends up coughing. He shakes his head, eyes scrunched shut. He’s probably—definitely—doing something wrong. All it manages to do is make him a tiny bit light headed. So, of course he keeps going. ]]

Where did you learn this, mon ami? [[ Ricky asks on a brief pause of attempting to blow smoke rings. He is still frowning with a tired determination to learn a pointless trick, Charlie might think it’s cool. Childishly, that’s enough for Ricky to keep trying. He only sends out a short burst of smoke this time. Closer. ]]

[Okay, so maybe this guy was good for more than just poking fun at. He’s also rather entertaining to watch trying to do the trick that Bode now found easy. But he remembers learning. He wonders if he also looked this incompetent when he first tried. Probably.

It endears him to Bode just a bit more. Watching him try so hard, failing every time. Bode tries to show him again,] comme ça, [he says, slowly puffing out another ring, grinning just a bit afterward. He watches as he sits up more, trying harder. The poor man looks about to pass out with how hard he’s trying. Bode can’t help but chuckle slightly as he coughs.] Hold it there, don’t swallow the smoke, [Bode says in a way that’s not as condescending as other things he’s said have been. Like he’s actually trying to help him. Or at least be mildly encouraging.

Bode takes a drag, then slowly demonstrates again, which he knows probably looks more like showing off than anything else.] A girl taught me when we were about... sixteen? She claimed it’d make me a better kisser, but I think she just wanted to watch me struggle. I can see why she would want to do that, it is rather entertaining watching someone learn. [He teases him, smirking just a bit.]

of the upmost priority || bode & corbin

[Corbin catches the look, and though he isn’t positive about what it’s suggesting, if it’s suggesting anything at all, but he bites the inside of his cheek to keep his little smirk to himself. This bloke’s got the potential to be a major buzzkill, he thinks. Because who bloody doesn’t like spotting a bit of treasure trail, or a pretty and deliberate belly-button ring? Anyone who doesn’t is a bore frankly, and in Corbin’s experience, are lying through their teeth anyway, because they care a bit too much about appearances. 

A bit ironic, coming from Corbin, considering his preoccupation with his reputation… but his concerns about ‘appearance’ are decidedly of a different nature than most people’s. For instance, he couldn’t give less of a shit if this bloke thinks he’s a toss pot or an uneducated wanker, because by some counts, Corbin is. He can think whatever he likes, really, because Corbin’s ego doesn’t depend on the opinion of others. All he cares about is not being treated like shit for it. If any stuck up prat can keep their ignorant judgements to themselves, then they can stay in Corbin’s good books, simple as that. Because otherwise, he isn’t that difficult a man to please.

Corbin had offered to help this bloke find what or who he’s looking for, but so far he’s still not taking him up on the offer, and so though he looks around as though he’s still not quite sure where he’s going, Corbin says nothing on it. If he’s that determined to save face and refuse a bit of neighbourly help, so be it. No skin off Corbin’s back. The offer will still stand if the rich-faced foreigner decides to change his mind.] 

Aye, yup. Assumed right. Been here… well, a couple years now I reckon. Maybe more. So not even as long as it feels like, really. I was transferred from 4, up North. But what can I say, I make myself comfortable pretty darn quick. And turns out a couple years these days feels more like a lifetime. Name’s Corbin, by the way, mate—[because this bloke was likely never going to ask. Too proud? Probably. But like he said, Corbin’s not easily deterred by the grumpy stoic types.] You got one, Stud? Or should I just keep callin’ ya stud? No skin off my back. 

[He throws the other a smirk, though he suspects that he won’t take to the comment very well. Bit too stuffy, probably. But Corbin couldn’t be bothered. Let him feel ruffled, see if he cares. He’s going to have get used to it, if he’s gonna be hanging around these parts long. Colony 22 isn’t exactly… classy. 

[Bode isn’t the biggest fan of the stray he’s collected. Like some poor street mutt looking for just a few scraps. At least if he were actually a dog, he’d be quieter. But no, he’s chatty and unhelpful. Well, then again, Bode never explicitly said “help me find this” so he’s probably waiting for that. It’s clearly not a thing of waiting for permission to actually help--mostly because he doesn’t seem to shut up. He probably just wants to see Bode ask. Which, for right now, isn’t going to happen. So, he supposes he has to put up with the chatter while also looking for the dock space he needed to find.]

Really? Would have never pegged you as the type to find comfort so quickly, [He casts a glance his way, giving him the smallest bit of a smirk. Not exactly playful, but it’s not entirely unamused.] Bode, [he introduces.] But I feel like you’re still going to call me whatever you feel like. [Since he has a feeling he’s trying to get under his skin, he’s certain it wouldn’t matter what Bode said to him. He doesn’t really care what he’s called, so long as Corbin is useful and helpful. Which... it really seems like he’s not.]

on the prospect of possibilities || alois & bode

[[ Alois catches himself rounding the roughness of his edges and pulling his guard back just a little when Bode mentions his implant. He unconsciously curls the fingers of his left hand in towards their palm with quiet clicks then relaxes them again, feeling an inevitable pull of camaraderie. It makes sense that Bode would also have to work towards isolating sounds, based on Alois’ own limited knowledge of what the average van Asch hearing implant was capable of. He hadn’t had any firsthand experience with them, but he knew enough about every implant or enhancement his family’s corporation had to offer to understand.

Bode moves on from the mention, which is fine. Alois rarely wants to discuss his own tech on a first meeting either, even if there are questions he has for him now. But that’s not why they’re here.

Making his main focus a sound he controls. Alois nods mildly. It makes sense, and is liable to be more broadly useful to him than using the ocean as a ground – seeing as a lot of the time, when he’s having particular difficulty, he’s inside and the waves are too far away or drowned out even for the likes of him to hear. He glances down at his left hand, and instead of tapping, opts to gently scrape the hard pads of his thumb and index finger together. The sound prompts a brief wrinkle in his nose, but Bode is right, it’s easy enough for Alois to control to a reasonable volume. Between this and Corbin’s compartmentalization advice, he can admit that the overlap will be helpful. ]] That makes sense. [[ And more importantly, he thinks it might work. The true test is and always will be the dining hall.

Alois hesitates for a moment, pursing his lips. ]] I’m fine with mitigating, but I’d also… hoped some kind of straight-up suppression was possible. I’m starting to guess not. [[ It’s a question as much as it is resignation, offhandedly hoping Bode has some other trick up his sleeve but not holding his breath. Alois is tired of holding his breath, of waiting on a cure for Infections as what could be his only true option. ]]

[He pretends to not notice the way Alois moves his hand, like a subconscious act of, what? Comradery? Bode doesn’t know. He doesn’t care. He’s not going to make a big deal out of all of this. Even if he was curious what Alois knew about his family’s products. Does he know how to maintain the upkeep in these difficult times? Or do van Asch products not deteriorate as easily as whatever Bode has in his head. 

He tries not to dwell. But there’s an understanding between the two of them, however small. Honestly, maybe that’s why Bode learned to control his Infections pretty easily. Because he’d already spent his whole life learning how to adapt. 

Bode just gives him a short nod.] Yes, that would be ideal. Have you tried earplugs? [He doesn’t say that he’d happily give him his hearing it that was possible. It’s strange to think that someone would actually probably love to be able to shut off their hearing like he could. Meanwhile, Bode would get used to hearing everything because that’d be better than this.

What’s that saying? The grass is always greener on the other side?

Maybe he shouldn’t think so bitterly about this situation. But the constant ringing in his ears was enough to remind him that sometimes it’s okay to stay bitter.]

KNUCKLES WHITE DRY || ricky & bode

[[ What made Germany so bad? Where should he begin. ]] I didn’t like living there. Was stuck with… [[  ‘My father’. Saying that makes him sound ungrateful unless he goes into a whole woe-is-me spiel about Kaiser. Ricky’s aware on the surface, he had everything he could have wanted. His father was alive, his mother was alive, so were his two siblings. Of course things didn’t last—his mother didn’t make it for long, neither did his unborn and forever unknown sibling. So he won’t mention it. He’ll be vague and annoying about it. ]] Someone I’d rather not have been stuck with. 

[[ Berlin was destroyed, yes, but it was always grey and desolate to Ricky. He didn’t like the place, didn’t really feel much different about it in the wake of the asteroids. Clearly, this guy doesn’t have a similar distaste for his home country. ]] 

Being a guard really helps keep people away from you. [[ Ricky tips his head back against the tree, looking up at the tall man. Being new here was difficult, Ricky got extremely lucky that he was buddied up with Charlie. That man could befriend anyone. ]] I’m usually on the night shift, so I don’t see many people. I am the wrong person to ask, mon ami.

[[ Their conversation is turning so dour and Ricky is acting like a fucking weirdo. He could try to be less of a pain. There’s nothing good for him to say about this place beyond Charlie but that’s… that would truly be a fucking weird thing to say to a stranger. So Ricky pivots entirely, moving away from talk of the Colony. ]] How do you blow those smoke rings?

[Bode gives a short nod. It’s not as understanding as it could be. Because while he had been stuck with people he didn’t want to be before, he’d never had to deal with that during the apocalypse. And had been more honest, he would have found more understanding from Bode-- to be trapped somewhere with your father could be a fucking nightmare. But, he doesn’t have that touchstone with with the man on the ground, he doesn’t get a moment where he’ll feel a little more connected and maybe a little less cold toward him. No, instead, he gets a short nod, and a look of slight contempt-- like his answer was boring or not good enough. Like he had wasted Bode’s time.

His comment about being a guard makes Bode let out a dry laugh.] I’m sure it does. Some people get frantic enough when you tell ‘em you’re an Elite. [Kind of unnerving that this was the type of person who was guarding them all, but who knows. Maybe this is just an off day. A really, really off day. He has to hope.

Bode takes a drag on his cigarette. Usually having a nightshift sounded like hell, so no wonder this guy fell asleep under a tree. However, there definitely seemed to be something else making this man more... depressing than just being tired and accidentally falling asleep outside. Bode didn’t care enough to find out more, though.

As he blows out some smoke, he looks at him, brow quirked up a bit. Completely changing the conversation topic? Something was clearly troubling him. He doesn’t want to talk about this place, but then again, neither does Bode.] Oh, you sort of... push your tongue back? Then, suck your cheeks in and just sort of open your mouth in an O. [He does it again, blowing out a ring slowly just to sort of show him. Once he’d learned, he sort of just did it on autopilot when he was bored. Bode tries to remember what the steps actually were, though.] 

You want to hold the smoke in your throat, though. And then when you push it out it’s with your throat muscles rather than you’re actually blowing? Like make a pop in the back of your throat.

of the upmost priority || bode & corbin

[Corbin’s no stranger to the sulky, brooding types. The gloomy, cranky types who take themselves very seriously and who don’t know quite how to navigate a person like Corbin, who doesn’t take himself seriously at all. He’d even say he has had a few friends of that nature, both in the past and now. Chance being the first that comes to mind, JR the most recent. A little bit of callousness doesn’t deter Corbin off the top. If anything, he sort of likes seeing how long it’ll take to get them to lighten the fuck up. How many one of his vulgar jokes they can willfully ignore until they eventually crack a grin. 

He’s not sure if it’ll be a bootless errand with this one, but… it’s not like he has anything better to do at the moment. Besides… the smirk and the ‘sniffer’ comment, sneering though it may be, seems to Corbin like evidence that there’s a sense of humour in there somewhere. He mirrors the smirk, almost pleased by the unintelligible remark which he can only assume was Swedish for snide, because there’s a whiff of drawling sarcasm in there that Corbin finds familiar. Or maybe promising. Or both. But the jury is still out.

He matches his pace to follow the man.] ‘Cor, so you got a few tricks up yer sleeve then, don’t ya? Alright stud, I see you. Bet the multiple languages thing is how ya charm all the babes. [He slides the other a wry smirk, but hardly misses a beat as he moves on.] 

Yeah, you guessed it though. London born and raised, pretty much. No surprise there. What brought ya all the way over here, then? Stockholm just wasn’t doin’ it for ya no more?

[Bode casts a glance over to the man. He seems to love the sound of his own voice. It’s a different kind of arrogance than Bode exudes. Like an unearned confidence, not only in himself but in his words. Talking to talk, trying to sound charming and funny just for the sake of it. Almost like he expects people to like him-- or he is unaware of just how annoying he can be.] Yes, I suppose some people find it charming. Usually those who are easy to impress. They’re usually the same ones that get excited if you reach too far up and your shirt lifts just a bit. [He casts a glance at the other, not necessarily accusingly, but it’s almost there.

Bode just nods when he confirms he’s from London. Not a surprise, he is right about that. He almost scoffs at his follow up question.] I would have loved to stay in Stockholm. Or gone almost anywhere other than here. But your Colony needed more Infections Trainers and trade representatives. Basically, I’m just here for work. [And because they let his brother come here, too. He would have to go somewhere they let Espen go because he wasn’t leaving him. So if it was either this shitty island or somewhere without his brother, he’d take the shitty island ten times out of ten. 

on the prospect of possibilities || alois & bode

[[ They haven’t even gotten to the actual meat of why Alois is here and he’s already starting to regret coming. First Bode says he’s ‘not an expert on Increased Senses’ and then, asks has Alois considered therapy? In all fairness to the instructor the latter is a good point, one Alois has at least considered in passing, but that’s not something he wants to discuss here with someone he doesn’t know.

There’s also the fact that the only therapist he’s aware of is not only NWRF but apparently sleeping with his best friend, which feels like a complicated recipe for disaster he’s better off steering several miles clear of. Or, well; he’d also met the presumably newest addition, Dr. Lynch. More of a possibility, but still too soon to tell.

The former point is maybe more concerning. What sort of trainer admits so quickly that they’re not an expert on what it is they’re meant to be training? Alois doesn’t bother to mask the subtle frown that follows that statement, confused. If Bode isn’t an expert, why was Alois assigned to him? Is the colony training system so hard up for teachers that the system resorts to the blind leading the blind? He wonders what Infections Bode must have, because none of them seem similar enough to the others to make for good cross-training, and then it clicks: he’d said Infections. Plural.

Alois’ frown deepens, and for a moment it seems like he ignores everything else Bode said in favor of answering his question. ]] Compartmentalizing is the biggest one. My largest source of difficulty is being able to separate and tune out individual sounds, so I’ve been working on picking a single sound to ground me and working from there. As I’ve had more success separating one sound from another, I’ve had a little more success turning them down, as it were, independent of each other.

[[ He circles back to Bode’s previous points, but will absolutely gloss over the therapy recommendation. ]] I’m sorry, did you say you have more than one Infection? And what do you mean by helping your hearing, if none of them are Increased Senses? [[ Alois assumes, if Bode is claiming not to be an expert. Not that Alois would claim to be an expert on his own enhanced hearing – he wouldn’t be here, if he were – but he’s also not an Infection trainer. ]]

[Bode notices the look of what could be disappointment, or maybe it’s just annoyance. He doesn’t blame him. If he went to someone who wasn’t an expert in what he was being trained in, he’d be a little annoyed as well. However, he feels it’s more along the lines of a guitar teacher teaching someone how to play the violin. Different techniques, but fundamentally fairly similar. Similar enough that you could probably figure one out with knowledge of the other. 

He nods. He remembers doing that. It was slightly different since Bode was trying to figure out how to tune in to single sounds and keep them as loud as he could. But it’s close enough. Or he’ll tell himself it is. 

Then Alois is asking more questions than he gave answers. Which is irritating.] Telepathy and Praeteria [Bode replies.] But when it comes to hearing, I’ve spent basically all my life learning how to do that. Had I not had surgery and gotten an implant, I would most likely be completely deaf. Which, you could say isn’t helpful to someone who hears too much. But I’ve had to work around tinnitus for about a decade and a half, and I’ve learned a lot about isolating sounds. So while I may not have the same specific Infection as you, I’d say I’m just as qualified to help you out as anyone else. 

[Bode moves on, not wanting to dwell on that-- on the fact that he probably wasn’t the most suited person to help Alois. But he wasn’t going to just quit. Especially not after Alois seemed so disappointed that he didn’t have Increased senses.] Compartmentalizing works, but it’s never a flawless system. Yes, isolating sounds from each other is helpful, but often that’s when you hear things louder. When you focus on something so specific. Focusing on more sounds, while more chaotic, can start to blend together to become more of a dull background sound rather than something you’re actually focused on. [He thinks for a moment. Tries to think of advice he’d give for telepathy, because that seems close enough. He doesn’t think his praeteric skills will come in too handy for this.]

I See You || Rosalind & Bode

I didn’t really see much of France itself. I’d only been in the country a few weeks before I got packed off to 16. [[ She was never sure how to word that particular sentiment. Some people might take offense to “taken to 16″, and she was very careful not to say the words “captured” or “stolen” when referencing how she got there. It had been an early realization that many people considered life in the Wastes, well, a waste. So few people had ever understood her desire to be free of the colonies that she’d just stopped talking about it. ]]

The trip itself wasn’t so bad. I actually enjoyed crossing the ocean on a ship. It was a new experience for me. Well, maybe not enjoyed, but it was an adventure. I learned that sea-sickness is not a joke. [[ Just thinking about how much weight she had lost in the first week of their trip across the sea due to vomiting over the side of the ship was enough to turn her stomach. She was probably one of the last to get their ‘sea legs’. ]] Oh that’s awesome! How many languages do you speak? If you’re working in translation, I assume it would be more than a few, right? I only speak two languages, and that’s only because French was a necessity. They’ve always been interesting to me, I just never got around to learning any others. Kudos to you. That’s quite an amazing accomplishment. 

[[ It was true. Rosalind felt a spark of envy as she wondered how well he was able to communicate with the rest of the world. Language was a fascinating subject, and she loved the intricacies of linguistics. It had always seemed that Rosalind had never had time to learn another language. When she eventually did have the time to learn another language, the world had ended and there was either no point or no one to teach her. ]]

Sorry, I realize that’s a strange question here. I keep forgetting. At 16 it was basically how you introduced yourself. “Hi, my name is Rosalind, and I’m infected with telekinesis.” [[ A quick eye roll and a shrug of her shoulders conveyed that she hadn’t been overly fond of the greeting, but she’d gotten used to it eventually. ]] Though, I’m sure the word ‘damage’ is also rarely used here. That’s one that I just never stopped using since before D-Day. It’s been part of my vernacular for about fifteen years now.

I realize I’m probably being nosy, but I always find other infections so fascinating. Would you mind if I asked about your telepathy? Specifically, because of your expertise, I was wondering how you translate in your head versus other people’s heads. I don’t know if that makes sense. In your head, do you think in another language, or does it just translate naturally for you? On the other hand, is there a significant difference between listening to your own thoughts and the thoughts of others? Obviously you don’t have to answer. You know what they used to say; curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.

.

[Bode just gives her a short nod. Packed off to 16. Interesting way to phrase it. There’s definitely something that she’s not saying on her feelings toward being moved around to a colony. It’s strange that for someone who’s said so much, she’s really shared so little about her own thoughts and feelings. Not that he really cares about what she thinks or how her experiences with getting sent all over the globe were. But she’s definitely chosen some interesting ways to describe things so far. Very neutral. But he wonders if she really feels that way.

He does let out a short chuckle though.] I was going to say, if you really enjoyed such a trip, I’d think this conversation would have to be over, [He says it a little more lightly than he normally would. Just so she knows he’s joking around with her now.] I found my boat ride hellish, and I definitely witnessed enough sea-sickness to fill an entire life time. [He’s honestly still just impressed she managed to make it all the way across the ocean. 

And then she’s asking him about all the languages he speaks and just more questions than he had the energy to really answer. But at least they were talking about a subject he prided himself on: his own intellect. Might as well brag a little if she’s going to talk so much, he decides.] Thank you, it is quite an accomplishment. I speak around eight? [He thinks over the ones he knew. Technically more if he counted all the different types of sign language he’d learned. But he won’t go into that.] Four fluently. I would say I’ve gotten to be pretty fluent in a couple others, but I’ve never taken any sort of test to prove that. [He does commend her for even trying to learn French as a necessity. Some people would have just committed to not speaking to anyone. Or they’d search out only people they could communicate with. Well, he commends her, but doesn’t actually say anything like that. He doesn’t want the comment to sound patronizing, but he also doesn’t need her getting a big head because she learned one new language. 

Another short nod.] No, I understood what you meant by “damage.” [He says. then there’s a wry laugh, more to himself than to her. Because if the Reformists here heard you could force someone to have to spell out their Infections every time you introduced yourself, they’d definitely make that a law. He’s surprised it’s not printed out across their foreheads sometimes.] Sounds like you’re at an AA meeting when you introduce yourself in that way. 

KNUCKLES WHITE DRY || ricky & bode

[[ There’s a slight chuckle from above him. ]] It’s the least I could do. [[ Ricky mutters back around the cigarette. He doesn’t find it that funny. He doesn’t know why he said it, if not to get a laugh or lighten the atmosphere it was the simple truth.

The man continues, saying Ricky clearly needed a smoke more than he did. That should probably be an insult, shouldn’t it? Essentially saying he looks like shit. He feels like shit so it might as well much up. 

Looking up, he’s distracted by the small rings of smoke he blows. Ricky watches one of them as it leaves his lips and fades away. Huh. He never bothered to learn to do that. He always went through cigarettes too quickly, rarely exhaled any of the smoke. ]] Lucky you. I was stuck in fucking Germany at first. [[ Perhaps he sounds a little bitter because he is. Ricky was in Berlin. where he’d have much rather been stuck in France, never had been with Kaiser out in the wastes. 

As the stranger warms up, Ricky stays stubbornly in the same petulant mood. He could think Ricky’s just got an awful sense of humour, is immature or just an asshole. All of them would be accurate.

Ricky doesn’t need to explain himself but he does it anyway. ]] I had a night shift, thought I’d get some fresh air but I fuckin’ fell asleep. It’s not that weird. [[ It is embarrassing, though, because he would never have done this normally. In fact, he usually struggles to fall asleep for a bit after working a night. He’s fucking up his sleep cycle every few days so it makes sense. ]] I’ve been here a handful of months.

[Clearly the man on the ground is in a sour mood. Which Bode can imagine after sleeping on the hard ground, getting dirt in your hair. And sure, Bode wasn’t the most welcoming figure to wake up to, especially in this sort of context, but he thinks the other is really being a lot more petulant than he should be.

Honestly, Bode’s only going to keep the conversation going now because it seems to get under his skin. Which isn’t the most mature reason for talking to someone he’d probably have to work with in some capacity at some point. But then again, when was he ever one to try and get along with his coworkers.]

I don’t think there’s anywhere lucky to be in this world. It’s a strange sort of feeling to remain somewhere familiar and see it utterly destroyed. [To see streets you would wander down with friends, knowing their bodies probably littered the sidewalks under the rubble of shops you used to visit. He’s not too sentimental about it all, but hearing him say he was lucky to be there hit him weird. There was no lucky place. Some of the luckiest people were the ones who didn’t have to live to see what this world devolved into. At least in Bode’s sometimes melodramatic mind.] What made Germany worse than being anywhere else?

of the upmost priority || bode & corbin

[The man’s expression hardly moves. It’s leaded with a sobriety and severity Pryor had never had—at least not around Corbin, anyway. Which helps. It helps that this doppelganger seems to take himself so seriously, helps that the flow of his language is a little stilted with the acute turns of his accent. And it’s not about fluency; he seems to speak it well, nothing ‘broken’ as it were—but there’s an awkwardness there that Corbin assumes has everything to do with the foreign music and cadence of his voice. Inflections in weird places, sitting into vowel sounds just a little bit off. 

When he continues, making dull conversation about the stench, it sounds forced. As though he’s replying only because it gives him something to say, because he’s intelligent enough or maybe polite enough to know social etiquette dictates that he should contribute, should make an effort. He’s not speaking out of inspiration, or interest. At least, that’s the impression Corbin gets. 

And he actually has no idea what a manifest is, but he can’t say it sounds like something he’d be remotely interested in. 

His ears perk up and twist like a cat’s at the little tangle of words Corbin doesn’t recognize. They somehow sound both dissonant and melodic at the same time.] So where’d you transfer from, then? What was that—Russian or somethin’? [He’s really not very good at differentiating slavic languages.] 

[The look Bode gives him is indignant at best. At worst, it’s judgmental and calling him an uneducated Brit in more languages than he could probably even comprehend.] Swedish, actually, [Is all he says, ready to just walk away and figure this all out on his own. His tinnitus was proving to be a more intelligent conversational partner than this half-baked dock rat.

But he was trying not to be rude, and if he would actually show him around instead of just chatting, this wouldn’t be as irritating.] I got here not long ago from Stockholm. That’s in Sweden, [He says, his tone definitely a little condescending. But he really doesn’t have it in him to try for niceties. And judging by the way this man spoke about the Reformists, Bode knows he isn’t one. He’d be amazed if anyone let him hold any position of power. Bode would be afraid to leave him in a room with an unplugged heater, honestly.] I take it you’re from around here, though? 

Disappear || bode & dylan

[Dylan doesn’t hide her distaste for Infections. Granted, she doesn’t go around yelling at everyone with a red tattoo, but when asked she doesn’t mince her words. What she does hide is her own Infection. Long sleeves make up the majority of her wardrobe, and she doesn’t do much socializing with the other Infected. Worst of all, perhaps, is that she skips out on her training whenever possible. She hates using her Infection, and she hates using it in front of other people even more so. It’s funny- whenever she remembers who or what she is, all she wants to do is disappear, and that’s exactly the problem.]

[Obviously, she couldn’t get away with playing hookey forever. Someone was bound to notice. Still, when she saw the message summoning her for extra training with her Infection, she couldn’t help the nausea rising in her throat. All actions had consequences, she knew, but she’d been hoping these particular consequences might take effect later. Or maybe even never.]

[The trainer seems friendly enough as she approaches, but he doesn’t shy away from the reason why she’s here. Instinctively, she grabs her arm behind her back, as if concealing her tattoo like a guilty toddler with make all this go away.] I guess I just keep forgetting, [She lies. She didn’t use to be a liar.]  Sorry. But it’s not that big of a deal, is it? I mean, it’s not like we’re ever going to really use this stuff.

☀

[Bode gives a short nod. He doesn’t believe her. He knows she just doesn’t want to be here. It’s hard to forget when a device on your wrist will send you reminders.]

No, I suppose it isn’t a huge deal. [He replies. Because that’s what she’d want to hear, yes? Someone telling her that he understands her disinterest in coming here. Learning to use her Infection. He doesn’t really have an interest in learning to use his Praeteria either. But control... well, that was a different story.  Besides, if he could keep her coming back, maybe some of the other trainers would actually take him a little more seriously as a new person on the team. He hates being new here, everyone acts like he’s either a lost cause to figure out how things work or like he needs his hand held the whole time. Both drove him up the wall.]

Though, what about when you ride a horse, let’s say, [Bode starts.] Do you train just to learn how to ride? Just to be able to compete? Or do you practice so that you know how to have control. Because anyone can get on a horse, but if you can control it? You can choose where it goes. When it stops and starts. 

You have to look at these sessions in that sort of way, [getting right to the point because Bode was never one to draw things out for too much longer than they needed to be.] To learn techniques to be in control of your Infection. Not so you know how to use them during the games, or for whatever other purpose people try to tell you you may need them for. But so you’re the one with the reins.