i understand now; the torment is eternal

quinn-dervilia​:

[[ ‘Then don’t think them.’ If only it were that simple. If only he didn’t want to hear Clove justify things, talk about Quinn—and the NWRF, of course—like the most important thing in his life. He will always think them, but he won’t always subject Clove to those concerns. There is no apology, no comfort, only a smile. A nod.

‘Destroy any kind of credibility.’ Quinn shakes his head at that notion. ]] That man’s power wasn’t built on credibility. Like you said, his own son doesn’t want to be associated with him, cited him as part of the reason he’s even on our side!  They don’t want logic. They want something… emotional.

[[ As his mind starts ticking over, his hand leaves Clove’s shoulder. The loneliness, the way he looks at and thinks of Clove in a way he really shouldn’t as his superior is quickly forgotten. Loneliness, physical contact is fleeting. What they’re working to build will outlive them. ]]

In the long run, I’m not sure. [[ He will have to run things by HQ, he’s made one too many mistake in their eyes, he can’t fuck up again. That is one burden he won’t share with Clove. ]] My current thought: using him as an example of how a person’s infection could kill them. Wouldn’t that be one hell of a motivator for testing? Tell them all that ‘your so-called gifts are just ticking time bombs’. Obviously, we can’t say that outright unless we get definitive proof.

That would be the most logical way forwards, but I think it’s also the one they’ll be expecting us to take. It seems almost too convenient. First one of the most outspoken rebels dies and then we just happen to discover the connection between Infection and violent death by aneurysm? Besides, what are the chances of us actually getting any proof? Any number of things could have caused his brain to implode. The man wasn’t exactly known for his peaceful temperament and gentle ways. I think we should run with the concept of the two being related but in a more subtle and nuanced way. It needs to be foolproof so the likes of Carrington or Andrews won’t try and swoop in to discredit the entire theory.

{At this point the last dregs of panic and anxiety have faded, leaving him only with a sense of shame and discomfort. This isn’t exactly the picture he wants to paint for Quinn. Now more than ever there’s no space for second guessing or lapses in judgment. Ideally he’ll get away with blaming his reaction on stress and sleep deprivation and they’ll both forget about it within a few days.}

This is a massive opportunity for us to finally make some headway with these people. They’ve done nothing but moan and resist every step we’ve tried to take. All we can do is hope this has finally knocked some sense into them. {The statistics of how many people actually die from aneurysms would not have been in their favour before D-Day, but with such a drastic decrease in population numbers and the thrown in factor of the freak Infections, even the maths might just be on their side.}

alois-the-real-boy​:

[[ Clove doesn’t respond right away, but Alois doesn’t manage to fall back asleep — a light doze at best, one that lets his mind wander to concern as sleepiness starts to take it and his irritation bleeds away. He knows Clove was upset with the way things went with Kaiser because he lashed out, and Clove no longer seems to lash out at Alois unless he’s upset.

Alois likes to think, anyway.

It’s not an excuse, though, and Alois is just awake enough to be irritated again when his PDD chimes a second time. An airy scoff leaves his lips at ‘Can we taLk?’, but he quiets again as he continues reading. 

He’d always meant to polish his German more; the language of his grandparents, on his mother’s side. But time had been in short supply for him before the apocalypse, and learning a fourth language tended to fall by the wayside.

Alois remembers enough, though; enough to pick out, 'you’re the only one in the world that makes sense.’

He buries his face in his hands and groans softly. Anyone else, and he’d be convinced it was a line. Maybe it’s still a line, coming from Clove, but a genuine one tempered with stress and drink. It’s enough that Alois doesn’t have the heart to retort meanly.

He steadies his PDD against the pillow beside him so it doesn’t clack around his artificial wrist typing his response. ]] 'We can talk. I’m just in my dorm, but I can meet you somewhere.’ [[ And much like Clove, Alois has to send it off quick before he changes his mind. ]]

{There’s a split second in which he thinks he’s gone too far; that he’s been too open and upfront, that Alois either doesn’t care or doesn’t want to hear anymore excuses. But if it’s uncomfortable for Alois to hear this kind of truth, broken down by alcohol and exhaustion and fear, it’s even worse for Clove to have to admit to it out loud.

Except this is exactly what they want from each other, isn’t it? Pure and uncontaminated honesty. The truth and nothing but the truth, external circumstances and difficulties be damned. Whether through words or actions, for Clove to be honest to the point of vulnerability is exactly what Alois constantly asks of him. When he spends the night he demands Clove face that difficult question of what exactly it is he wants. When he smiles in the hallway or decides to send drunk texts in the middle of a party, he demands Clove pay attention to him. That they go beyond the idle game of cat-and-mouse that has somehow been enough up until now.

Alois might not realise it now but every day he forces Clove to think about him, about them, about what the fuck they’re supposed to do about all of this before it’s too late.

Isn’t this exactly what a relationship is supposed to look like? An acknowledgment that there’s something there - something intangible that refuses to go away?

God. A vague sense of nausea is starting to settle in and Clove can’t tell if it’s the copious amounts of alcohol or the fact that he’s gone as far as allowing himself to think that any of this could ever constitute as a relationship. How he feels about that term on a personal level is entirely irrelevant: it can’t and won’t ever be. Maybe the kindest thing would be to kill any notion of hope either of them might be harbouring before it manages to do any further irreparable damage.

And irreparable damage it most certainly has done. Since when does Clove care so deeply about how Alois is feeling? When did he start wishing for the power to turn back time just so he can stop their arguments before they happen? Why should he want to know what’s going through Alois’ head this very moment? Every moment he’s spent with Alois has chipped away at those carefully cultivated walls, threatening to one day raze them to the ground.

No. He’s let himself be fooled by this long enough. He owes neither explanation nor reparation.

Alois’ reply feels cold and exasperated but it’s already more than Clove deserves after making such fool out of himself. Perhaps this is the best time to stop. In another life he might have tried harder, but the reality of their actual lives will always be there to prevent Clove from trying hard enough.

Near entirely sobered up after that brief mental spiral he makes quick work of responding, idly hoping that Alois notices the reversion to proper typing. A serious conversation is in order and he’d rather not humiliate himself further by showing up drunk.}

cvnstantin​:

[Clove’s tone turns sharp, and cutting, and Constantin’s eyebrows raise. It’s clear Clove doesn’t want to get into the ethics of his actions or how people perceive them. He’s torn on whether or not to call him out for that. On the one hand, Constantin has always had a healthy respect for authority, and in spite of his age Clove is technically Constantin’s superior. But on the other hand, he doesn’t take bullshit lightly.] 

It takes a certain type of person, definitely. [It’s why the training is so rigorous. Not everyone is cut out for space.] I did pray a lot, even before the asteroids came. You feel very close to God up there. Not that I believe he’s some entity beyond the sky, but you do get a very different perspective on all of creation when you see our little planet from so far away.

[He studies Clove’s expression, wondering if he should ask. It’ll probably piss Clove off, but Constantin’s never really minded people getting arsey at him, and he’s curious.] Why did you change the topic? I wasn’t implying anything.

Of course you weren’t. {He can’t quite tell if Constantin is attempting to take the piss or not, but decides against taking an overly offensive route. He doesn’t sense anything particularly malicious about the man, tactlessness aside. Just an inquisitive kind of curiosity without the usual hostility or judgment Clove has become accustomed to. It gives an impression of naive innocence. Like he’s asking questions because he actually wants to understand, not because he’s planning on throwing anything back at Clove.

Then again Clove has been known to be a somewhat poor judge of character in the past. It’s a habit he’s more or less lost since the Wastes but some part of him can never help itself in the face of non-judgmental kindness. It’s mentally tiring constantly having to assume every little comment is an attack.

Ironically, over the recent weeks, no small amount of people have told him he needs to relax more. It’s predominantly well meant advice Clove would very much like to follow even if just for a little while. But when ninety-percent of the time those little comments actually are thinly veiled insults or threats, a vague sense of paranoia becomes second nature.}

My apologies for changing the topic so abruptly. I just can’t help but- {God. He’s starting to sound more and more like his father. Eloquent sentences void of meaning, useful only in covering up the smell of bullshit. He shakes his head a little, taking a moment to regroup his thoughts.} 

I’m tired of discussing this kind of stuff. I know, I know, it’s my own fault for being the way I am and for believing what I believe. But surely you understand what it’s like to some extent? I’ll bet everyone and their mother wants to know what it was like to be up in space even if you don’t necessarily want to talk about it.

cvnstantin​:

[Clove forgetting Constantin was an astronaut is both humbling and funny. Most people find it’s all they can think of after they find out, so he’s not used to people forgetting – but then, he doesn’t talk to those in authority much. Most of the Elites probably have a lot on their plate right now, and Constantin and Anaya are some of the quieter residents here. It probably suits all of them better like that. Costin and Ana like to be alone, together, and the Elites like that there’s a couple of people not swinging their fists and getting angry about politics.

This conversation isn’t one he would expect to have with Clove, but it’s… if not nice, then invigorating. It’s surprisingly rare to touch on bigger topics like this, which is a shame. Constantin always enjoyed philosophical, religious talk. It’s probably good for Clove, too. What he saw was awful, but he’s been forced to hit the ground running and just keep working.] 

Well, what would be the point if He told us halfway through our lives? He’s judging us on our goodness, not on our obedience or our ability to bow to His will. You live your life in the best way you know how, and you have faith it’s enough. If you’re having doubts, that’s something you’ve got to figure out for yourself. Do you think the things you’re doing are bad, or just unpopular?

[There’s a distinction there. Most of the best teachers Constantin ever had had been ‘unpopular’ because they pushed you and made sure you did your best work. It’s possible for Clove to be unpopular and make unpopular decisions while still being good. For his part Constantin isn’t sure how he feels about Clove’s position: presumably they’re talking about the NWRF here, and Constantin certainly doesn’t hate them as much as most. He just feels… neutral. Patiently gathering information. The Infections are new, and ill understood, so restrictions are sensible. Some of the restrictions are admittedly overzealous, but there’s worse things in the world than being too cautious in the face of the unknown.]

What people think of my actions is unimportant. {A sharpness arises in Clove’s tone. A warning. ‘Back off’. It’s refreshing to have such casual conversation instead of tense disagreement for once, but there’s still a line between them that is not to be crossed, and Constantin is teetering a little too close to the edge for Clove’s taste. Naturally he doesn’t think what the NWRF are doing is bad, otherwise he wouldn’t have a part in any of it. That the mandates are unpopular also goes without saying but it’s just as he explained; other people’s opinions don’t matter.

In an attempt not to ruin the comfortable chat they’ve been enjoying, he offers Constantin a tired smile. It’s always been one of Clove’s greatest flaws; his sensitivity. Even before D-Day it hadn’t taken very much to make him angry or to displease him. It’s something he knows he’d inherited from his mother, her temperament and consequently her temper as fickle as flame and as easily disturbed as sand. It’s something Clove had been working hard on before everything; meditation, yoga, goals for a more mindful and grounded way of life.

The Infections and the fear he has of them had ruined most of the progress he’d made, but he’s still very much aware of it when something or someone riles him up. It’s not a flattering quality to have.}

alois-the-real-boy​:

[[ Alois holds little love for colony-wide gatherings, and he held far less love still for Kaiser fucking Bähr.

He wouldn’t go so extreme as to say he was glad the man was dead, he didn’t smile when he saw the colony-wide address, but it was a near thing. Enough that, when the day of the memorial rolls around, Alois feels no need to attend whatsoever. His roommates have been around the colony long enough to have stronger opinions, so if there’s one thing Alois does have to try and hide his excitement about, it’s the fact that they’ll be reliably gone for that span of time.

‘You sure you don’t want to go? Not even for the booze?’ Austin had asked on their way out the door, but the expression on Alois’ face must’ve been answer enough.

By the time the rain starts falling, Alois has been asleep for hours. It’s the longest bout of uninterrupted rest he’s gotten in some time, so maybe now, yeah, he is glad Kaiser is dead. Even the sound of the sky opening up is distant and steady enough that, despite waking him, doesn’t really interrupt Alois’ rest. He curls up tighter under the thick blankets and for once, almost misses the chime of his PDD.

He blinks at the message, then frowns. Almost three days of nothing, and now this? Alois is still too sleepy and subdued to be outright angry, but it’s enough for him to be curt and vague in his response. ]]

‘No. I didn’t go.’ [[ He types out ‘are you drunk?’ and then deletes it. Obviously Clove’s drunk. Alois shoves down the burgeoning concern and rolls over, closing his eyes again with a slow, metered sigh. ]]

{Alois’ response is far more curt than he had been expecting and it takes several moments of deep thought before the realisation hits. Ah. Of course. Sure enough, in the PDD’s message history lies the proof; their last text-conversation had been stifled and unpleasant on Clove’s side, everything thrown awry after Kaiser’s death.

Clove can’t fault the reaction his message is met with, for several reasons, but it still manages to give him pause. He considers not dignifying Alois with a response but changes his mind soon after. It is well-deserved irritation after all.

The bottle thuds heavily against the desk after he sets it down with a little too much force, free hand running through his hair in frustration. Sometimes it seems like there’s so much he wants to say to Alois only to be hindered by his own inability to come to terms with what exactly it is he’s feeling.

Sighing, Clove begins to type out several replies, each one deleted before he can get himself to hit the send button. The alcohol helps mute some of his stronger inhibitions but it’s still not quite enough. Only eventually does he settle on something and sends it off before he can change his mind yet again.}

persevans​:

[Death comes for all of us at some point, Percy. It feels so patronizing. She tenses a bit. Why did she do this? Why did she come here to talk to him, to understand what he witnessed. Maybe she wanted to understand him a bit more, but now she’s just remembering why she doesn’t actually want to. He’s arrogant. He’s cold and distant in a way that makes her want to scream.] I’m not a child, Clove, I’m aware we can’t outrun death. I just think it’d be better to go peacefully rather than screaming into the night as your own body tears you apart in the most painful possible way.

[And its things like that why she worries for what he’ll say to the public. Why she thinks him opening his mouth to explain what happened to the rest of the colony will end with riots and his head on a spike. Because he’s so cold and distant and seems so removed from everything.]

 I think they forget that we’re all human, not just you, but I do, because when have you shown them anything other than this? [she says, growing more agitated by him and his tone.] No? Because you couldn’t even show a speck of it here. I know that who we are in private doesn’t show through because I’m sure you don’t know anything about me, either. [This isn’t the first time he’s seen death. Everyone’s seen death now, Clove, that isn’t what this is about, she wants to yell at him. Things are so tense, so shakily balanced on the thinnest wire right now and whatever Clove did or said was going to send it over the edge. But one side is far worse than the other.] And that’s exactly why I said what I did. Give them a reason to feel just a sliver of compassion for the situation so that they don’t try to burn you at the stake. [She shakes her head. She’s so frustrated. Why does she even care. She shouldn’t. She doesn’t. Not about him. Just about every other person that his actions would negatively effect.] 

But if you’ve got this handled, then great. I won’t offer anything else to you. I really do hope you try to tap into that private side because I know that if you don’t, this situation is only going to get worse. [She stands, smoothing her hair back as she takes a breath. Today has been a lot, she realized. Her emotional state is frayed. Maybe if she had waited to speak to Clove she herself wouldn’t have been so on edge.] And I do want you to know that I truly am sorry you had to witness that. [And she hopes his screams don’t haunt Clove for too long. But maybe that’s what he needed to handle this with more tact.] Don’t bottle it up– what you’re feeling. Talk to someone about it because letting it fester does more harm than good to you, in the end.

I did not say I think of you as a child, I was merely explaining my perspective. People aren’t upset that Kaiser is dead. They’re rejoicing because it’s ammunition against us. And while I understand that you’re concerned about the populace’s reaction towards any sort of statement I make, I can assure you I’m perfectly capable of being smart about it.

{Clove can feel the irritation come off Percy in waves and it’s starting to piss him off. He hadn’t asked for her counsel nor her advice. She’d simply marched into the room under the guise of wanting to help only to end up criticising every second of his words. It’s incredibly frustrating to see her wilfully misinterpret everything he says considering there’d been hope for pleasant conversation at first.}

If you’re so concerned about the situation, why don’t we do it together, hm? {Now there’s an idea. Inviting Percy up into the proverbial limelight with him would not only get her off his back about the fucking speech, but simultaneously force her to publicly remind the Colony whose side she’s really on. And for fairness’ sake, Percy may have a bit of a point. Clove’s been dreading having to give a speech or whatever it is Quinn will demand of him; public speaking has never been something he enjoys or is particularly good at. It’s not stage-fright but there’s something deeply unsettling about being the centre of attention for larger crowds.}

That way you can do some damage control if necessary, and also give everyone your professional opinion on the matter. I’ll speak to Quinn about it, but I don’t see any reason for him to object. It’ll be the perfect opportunity for us to enforce the presence of an united front. {His smile remains cool, making it clear there’s little room for negotiation.} 

quinn-dervilia​:

[[ It’s not often he gets Clove like this: pliable and soft. Even as his words are petulant, even as he curses, he knows it is all from frustration. Can feel the effect his touch has on the younger man. The way he even looked smaller with the hand on his cheek.

Quinn’s lonely. It’s no less apparent than in moments like this, where touch is a threat and a promise all at once. His gaze drops from Clove’s gaze, not to cower but to look at his own hand on Clove’s slim shoulder. To the sharp long line of his neck. 

The next few sentences are defensive. Then it’s exactly what he wants to hear.

‘I’ll follow you to the end.’ He smiles, small. ]] I know, I know.

 [[ The words are delivered in a low, soothing tone. His thumb swipes up and over Clove’s shoulder, feeling the sharp ridge of a collarbone through fabric.  'Do you want me to say it out loud?’ Yes. Yes he does, he needs to hear it. Wants to have Clove says he’s his not just the NWRF’s. 

Till the end, he says, wherever the fuck it’s going. His smile is larger, sincere. They’re linked in ways they probably shouldn’t be, in a way Quinn should do his best to stop encouraging. Not that he will ever stop, not that he could deny himself the simple pleasure of hands on Clove. ]] I hate having to even think these things of you, but I love hearing you say it. You will be fine, we both will. He’s dead, and maybe that can become a good thing.

Then don’t think them. Have I ever given you reason to doubt me? Even now when all I can worry about is that I don’t have what it takes to be useful, I’m still making you the promise that I will try my hardest because I know that what we’re doing is the right thing.

Kaiser’s death may have been slightly unfortunate but you were right to remind me of the facts. We can use this to our advantage. That man was so much of a brute not even his own son wanted to be associated with him. All we have to do is destroy any kind of credibility he might have built up with the Infected.

{Quinn’s grip feels a little lighter on Clove’s shoulder; less of a threat and more of a consolation now that he’s heard Clove say what he wanted to hear. It’s strange how much they rely on each other’s reassurance, yet Clove finds he’d be able to weather being hated by the entire Infected and Reformist population at Col22 as long as Quinn’s still on his side.}

quinn-dervilia​:

[[ It’s absurd to think that Clove probably would find a way to cajole Dante into doing something so ridiculous. He leaves it for now, as much as they can gossip like two old women, it doesn’t feel wholly appropriate to talk about other reformists out in the open like this. 

Clove’s judgement on his shot makes Quinn feel he’s holding back on feedback. One thing about the younger reformist that appealed to Quinn is his nearly blind loyalty, even if it occasionally leads to annoying suck-up behaviour.

Still, Quinn nods. It is a good point. The human body doesn’t require such precision to hit. ‘Once they’re down and injured you can take your time with the finish.’ creates a very vivid image: one of those infected who killed his daughter, dragging a useless leg across the ground. Quinn walking in for the final shot. Oh, if only. If only. ]]

Where did you learn so much about guns, Clove? [[ Quinn asks, idly. He’s not expecting much of an answer, but it is curious. There’s no real way to guess how or why Clove knows most things he does or why he behaves a certain way. He’s a peculiar character. ]]

They are- they were a common occurrence in Switzerland. Most homes had one, and I spend most summers in a house not too far from a shooting range. My grandfather taught me most of what I know and the rest I learned from military service and books. {A good portion of that is true. Clove had learned much about weapons and shooting in the military and through reading. The fact that he’d been raised to use a gun from the age of twelve doesn’t really seem pertinent.}

I’m glad for it too. Those shooting skills saved my ass more than once in the Wastes. I never really thought I’d have to use them on another person, but then again I also never considered the possibility that I’d live through the apocalypse and come out still kicking. I guess I was just lucky.

{There’s a twig lying on the ground next to the mat and he picks it up, idly spinning it around between his fingers. He hasn’t thought about the months spent in the Wastes in a while for good reason. Most of those memories make him physically sick, and that’s not the kind of vulnerability he wants Quinn to witness.

A few moments of silence pass before Clove decides to stand up, discarding the twig before briefly brushing some dirt off his trousers. It’s not quite panic that’s gripped him but there’s a certain discomfort that accompanies thinking about certain parts of his past. He’d rather not dwell on them too thoroughly.}

I’ll leave you to your practice. Let’s hope we’ll never have to put our abilities to the test again.

cvnstantin​:

[Constantin is surprised by just how much Clove says. Maybe it’s been too long since anyone reached out to him with any sort of sincerity, or maybe the foreign language allows him the security of anonymity. He has to imagine most Reformists are quite paranoid, with how universally disliked they all seem to be.

Whatever it is, Clove seems to regret his openness almost before he’s finished speaking, apologising for  saying so much. Constantin shakes his head, because… really, who the fuck else is he going to talk about this with? Quinn is the only person Clove ever seems to willingly be around, but he’s his boss. Other than that, maybe he could talk to Enoch about religious crises, but some people feel too guilty or judged when talking to members of the clergy.

Maybe it would be kinder to let the subject drop, as Clove seems to imply. But his laugh is so fraught, sharp at the edges and terribly fragile, that allowing him to sweep those sharp edges under the rug doesn’t really seem like a kindness at all.] 

I think you’d have to consider yourself pretty important for God to think enough of you to kill a man just to teach you a lesson. There’s… at least two hundred billion galaxies in the world, and countless planets across them. Who knows how much life is out there. I don’t believe He’s got the time or the inclination to punish anyone individually. And anyway, what is the point of judgement before death? [A lesson Constantin himself could stand to remember, lately.] He wouldn’t make you unhappy now if he disagreed with your decisions, because that’s too easy. It’s up to you to decide what to do with your life, and it’s only after that he’ll look at all your choices and judge whether you lived well.

I don’t know much about art, but isn’t the point that it’s subjective? Like faith? We all take different things from it; it’s not about right and wrong, it’s about you. If you’re living your life in the best way you know how, then other people’s interpretations don’t matter.

Of course, I forgot you’re an astronaut. I suppose you have a rather different perspective of life and the universe. You’ve been up there, seen how small earth is, how little we really matter in the grand scheme of things.

{Constantin’s honesty is appreciated and Clove finds himself relaxing a fraction. Not entirely, because there’s still Constantin’s status as an Infected person to consider, but he feels comfortable enough to at least uncurl his fists and relax his shoulders.}

cambieandrews​:

clove-modius​:

My apologies if it sounded like a threat, I can assure you that was never my intention. {A lie Cambie will undoubtedly see straight through, but Clove isn’t in the mood to argue specifics with her. His jaw hurts like a bitch and all the ice is doing is numbing his hand and the area around where she’d hit him.

What he needs right now is a warm shower to ease his aching muscles, two painkillers, and little else that requires much thought for the remainder of the day. What he doesn’t need is a spat with Cambie, or to linger too much longer in a public area where anyone could walk in on them.

Rotating the ice pack and switching hands to give his frozen fingers a break, Clove makes an attempt at forcing a smile.} 

You’re right. People will think what they want regardless of what I say. You’ll have to forgive me, my brain is a little scattered just now. I think it would be best if we called it a day for training. Perhaps you can teach me how to punch some other time? You seem quite the expert at it.

[At this point, Cambie’s not really interested in his apologies. They both how insincere the words are; he’s only saying it to try and stop things from escalating again. It’s not an appealing quality of his, the fact that he’ll say whatever unpleasant things cross his mind, only apologising when he gets called out for it.

Sometimes she thinks she appreciates his attempts anyway, because trying is better than nothing. Sometimes she just thinks it’s cowardly. He must be the only person Cambie could punch in the face, and then get angry at – anyone else and she’d be sobbing, begging forgiveness. Not Clove, though. He asks her to show him how to throw a punch some other time, and Cambie just smiles tightly. She can put on a convincing fake smile if she wants to, but right now she doesn’t. ‘You seem quite the expert at it’ just seems passive aggressive.] 

Sure. Maybe. [Or maybe not. Cambie’s given Clove a thousand chances to make an effort to stop being so unpleasant, and he’s never once shown a willingness to change. Even that brief digression to Clove’s childhood feels insincere now, like perhaps he just said those things because he needed a breather and reached for whatever distraction he could think of. She’s running out of olive branches to offer him now.] 

quinn-dervilia​:

[[‘Do you feel something?’ makes something ugly twist in Quinn’s gut. Clove shouldn’t have to ask him that. He should know. It’s what others say, what others ask. They believe him and Clove are simply cold-hearted. Quinn has all the proof he needs right in from of him that he isn’t. The fact he even holds Clove’s face like this, other hand settling on his knee. Grounding touches because Clove has always felt too much. At least for Quinn he does, a level of vulnerability that he’d never show to anyone else.

Quinn’s thumb swipes up over his cheek, presses in a little, makes sure that Clove is looking up at him. In the wrong light, it could be threatening, in the right light, it’s a tether. ]] Who said I’m not freaking out? [[Quinn is not quite so dramatic in his hatred. He almost views infections like weapons: tools that shouldn’t be in anyone’s hands. Something akin to a nuclear bomb except it’s in the hands of idiots and layabouts. It’s only the Deluded he worries for, wants them to be separated from this sickness before it consumes them all. ]] Ignore your feelings and think of the facts. The parasite? Took them away, that’s a clear sign something can be done for them.

[[ The hand on Clove’s cheek drops to rest on his shoulders. His expectations are high, Quinn unrelenting in what he wants from Clove. ]] We will never find out the answers to those questions. [[ He says simply. It’s a fact. ]] Keep wanting to be what I need, and you’re halfway there.

Are you re-thinking being a Reformist? [[ The hand on his shoulder better feel heavy. If he is: it’s a sign he has him under his thumb. If he isn’t, it’s a reassurance. ]] The anger is good, it means we’re doing something right. Who gives a shit what the infected think of us? Unless Kaiser has done the impossible and swayed my boy?

Then what’s taking them so fucking long? They clearly know how to engineer it, so why aren’t they sending more of whatever the hell was in that flour? Side effects be damned. If we have something that works against the infections, we should be using it. {The accusation comes out more petulant than anything, most of the heat taken out of his voice by the gentle touch of Quinn’s hand against his cheek. It makes him feel small, in a way; powerless. They’ve always worked within a dynamic of mutual respect with few secrets between them, but every now and again he’s reminded of just how much control Quinn has over him.  

Adamant not to dwell on that thought for too long, Clove continues to hold Quinn’s piercing gaze no matter how much the grip on his shoulder makes him want to look away. There’s threat and reassurance hiding behind those eyes, either ready to emerge depending on the reaction they’re met with. Quinn’s words are heavy with unspoken implication and Clove’s body tenses for different reasons.}

Is that what you’re worried about? That Kaiser has somehow managed to change my mind? I thought you’d have a little more confidence in me. {‘My boy.’ It sends shivers down his spine - the good or bad kind, he can’t quite decide.}

persevans​:

He could’ve fallen from a ladder and cracked his head open in front of the whole Colony and if you were one of the people present, those rumors would still spread, [Percy says after a moment.] Court of public opinion is… [she almost says ‘killer’ but that feels extremely insensitive and wrong for this moment so she quickly changes her course of action.] It’s the worst court there is. I’ve read stories about people accused of horrific murders just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and public opinion and media would condemn them for decades. Even after the real killer was caught, those people’s lives were still in tatters from the public deciding their guilt with little to no evidence. [She knows this isn’t probably helping, but then again, this is Clove. Maybe talking facts instead of her shilling out feelings would be better for the conversation.] All that to say, people are going to find someone guilty of what’s been done no matter the real evidence. You aren’t the first person to fall victim to that and you won’t be the last. This is just one of those unfortunate circumstances that I don’t think this sort of outcome could’ve been avoided. 

[She listens as he recounts the event, her hands folded in her lap. She watches his body language as best as she can without seeming like she’s studying him. And its as he talks that she realizes it’s a situation that could’ve happened to anyone. And it unfortunately happened to be Clove. She knows there would still be whispers if it had been someone like her or Dante, but nothing like this. It felt like someone striking a match over an open tank of gasoline. It’s almost destined to go south.]

 As I said, regardless of your feelings toward him, that’s a hard thing to witness. Not only someone dying, but dying like that. In pain. He probably was in pain. Probably the worst pain he’d ever been in. [she’s quiet, looking at Clove’s desk.] I wasn’t the biggest fan of him either, but even still, I hope he didn’t hurt for too long before his body shut down. [Because that kind of suffering, of your own body turning against you and tearing you down in the most excruciatingly painful ways… that wasn’t something anyone deserved. Not even Kaiser.]

Also, just as some… friendly advice–not me trying to get you to open up to me– if you’re more opened about how witnessing that made you feel, the more likely people are to believe you. [Percy says.] Just for when you inevitably have to make some sort of public statement. Don’t be overly emotional–nobody would buy that from you– but don’t just list the facts. It’s easier for it to feel rehearsed and like a lie if you’re only giving facts. Showing you feel something helps remind people that you’re human. 

If you’ve come here to lecture me on the power of the many you’re wasting your time. I’m well aware just how strong of an effect the public’s opinion can have on a person’s life, guilty or innocent. Why do you think we’re here in the first place? I wasn’t alone in that room. Any one of the techs could have murdered him and I’d still be the one blamed. The court has long since decided that I’m guilty, they’ve just been waiting for a crime to tie it all together.

{Whatever her motives, Percy’s speech isn’t exactly succeeding at making Clove feel much better. It’s a little gratifying to know that she’s not one of the many pointing an unforgiving finger, but in the grand scheme of things, neither of their opinions matter. Kaiser had seen to that. One final act of rebellion, the consequences of which were more severe than that fool could ever have planned.}

Death comes for all of us at some point, Percy. There are no exceptions to that rule. Whether or not he was in pain is entirely irrelevant. {Of course it’d been hard to witness. The screams of agony that had filled the room still echo in his memory, the image of Kaiser dying an excruciating pain a sight Clove will struggle to forget. He too hopes that it was quick, even though he knows it most likely wasn’t. For all his crimes, Kaiser’s last moments had been both deserved and unbefitting: a slow and painful death for a man who, in life, had caused a great deal of suffering, dealt by an invisible killer so ruthless his body hadn’t stood a chance.

When she offers him the ‘friendly advice’, Clove can’t help but let out a bemused little huff. Is that what it’s come to? People are struggling to remember that he’s human? The irony of that is quite delicious, despite the bitter aftertaste.}

@alois-the-real-boy​​

{Clove hates funerals. There are likely precious few people who actively enjoy milling around talking about a deceased person, but the fact alone that some have the stomach to eat and drink like it’s a social gathering rather than a wake makes him physically nauseous. Still, he can’t really fault people for enjoying a break from the mundane day-to-day routine, finding it increasingly hard to believe that anyone is here because they’re actually sad about Kaiser.

Quinn had grumbled but Clove is glad they’d left the organising to Cambie. He’s been laying low as far as feasible: sticking to his suite, avoiding most meal times, keeping his door shut and locked for peace of mind. It’s a new low having to hide away like this but Bode’s advice, no matter how unwarranted, had rung true. Kaiser’s death set off chain reaction amongst the more politically inclined Infected, the consequences of which they have yet to face. Remaining out of sight and mind might be cowardly but smart.

He doesn’t manage to avoid the funeral entirely. It’s only following Quinn’s demand that he at least show his face and act a little mournful that Clove agrees to making a brief appearance. And brief he keeps it. The moment it’s over Clove is out the door, hands in his pockets, head ducked against the wind. Keen to avoid anyone with similar ideas he rapidly makes for his suite and, more specifically, the bottle of whisky kept behind a row of books. Getting drunk isn’t a terribly sophisticated move but the sting of alcohol is the only thing he knows will help shut up the louder thoughts.

Not stopping to grab a glass, Clove is a third through the bottle and already considerably unsteady on his feet when idea occurs. The more rational side of his brain silenced by the alcohol he makes quick work of typing out a message on his PDD, contents significantly less eloquent than what he usually produces.}

rev-enoch-lynch​:

Death always brought out the faithless or those who were struggling with it. Faith sat long hidden in the back of their minds, waiting to be rekindled. People often find faith when faced with death, one great unknown that the Church and faith offered some answers to. He’s never been fond of the focus on Heaven entirely because there is work to be done before then. That is part of his sermon today, about mourning but keeping yourself upright. About suffering and compassion in equal measure. He quotes Lamentations, with a sort of quiet reverence that speaks to how often he chews this particular passage over and over: “Though He causes grief, Yet He will show compassion According to the multitude of His mercies.”

Enoch can only hope—and pray—that his words have helped someone. He hardly expects to see so many people in the coming weeks, but that’s always been the natural cycle of things. Wedding, Funerals, Christmas and Easter. A cycle of joy and grief that has people stepping outside of their lives and into the church. Enoch had noticed Clove sitting in the back row. It had taken him a couple of days after their late-night slash early morning tea to realise he’s the Clove, Head of Torren Clove. He’d seemed so young that night. In the cold light of day, his expression seems a little more severe. The only face in the crowd that truly stands out.

After the service finishes, he posts himself at the entrance of the chapel: greeting everyone as they leave and talking to those who would like to. It’s an old habit, usually the time when some of the local gossips would sidle up to the Reverend and tell all—or rope him into helping out with some odd job or charity event. It was always how Sophie had first introduced herself to him. His smile is a little fonder after that. Chatting idly with a couple of elderly survivors who say how nice it is to have a priest around is when he notices Clove hanging back in the now empty pews. Enoch simply smiles and politely waves off the compliments from the elderly woman who makes a little jab about it being ‘unfortunate’ he’s the ‘wrong denomination’. He never could make everyone happy.

Half expecting Clove to simply leave, it’s a pleasant surprise he approaches Enoch. It starts as polite chatter, the sort of thing he expects to hear as someone leaves, “Thank you, Clove. Still feel a little rusty but I’m getting back into the swing of things.”

Not that the polite chit-chat lasts very long. He’s grateful for it. Enoch’s always been a fan of getting to the point, especially if there is something particular in mind. Enoch listens as Clove explains he was a regular church-goer. He looks surprised, pleasantly so, when Clove’s favour is to simply have his confession heard. 

“Yes, of course. Don’t worry, I’ll always make time for those who need it,” he smiles. Looking around the now-empty chapel, it still doesn’t offer the same privacy of a confession booth. Unfortunately. “Where would you be comfortable speaking? I’m happy to do it here if you are or we can use my office?”

Much to Clove’s relief, Enoch doesn’t immediately dismiss his request. There are no mumbled excuses, no citing of political differences as a reason he can’t help. If anything Enoch seems entirely blasé about Clove’s reputation, smile never wavering as he offers the choice between chapel and office. The latter option would offer more privacy and remove the possibility of someone walking in on them at an inopportune time, but it feels wrong. Going to Enoch’s office would feel too comfortable, too informal. Clove had only approached him due to lack of other options and remains staunchly unwilling to blur the line between a professional and collegial relationship. He’s there to meet a priest, not make a friend.

“Here is fine. Forgive me if I sound ungrateful but going to your office would feel… Unofficial. More like a chat between two quasi-strangers rather than a confession. If you are comfortable staying here then I would prefer to do so.”

It’s not a large space, nor is it overly chapel-esque, but it suits its purpose well enough. The pews are just as uncomfortable as they’d been at his grandparents’ local church; the ceiling just as high, the stone floors just as cold. The lack of any obvious religious symbols has always made it feel a little alien to Clove but there’s still something distinctively churchy about the atmosphere that, combined with Enoch’s arrival, there’s really no other logical use for it.

The last of the sermon goers’ voices have faded by now, leaving the two of them in relative silence. Accepting Enoch’s quick glance around the chapel as an unspoken invitation, Clove takes a seat in the frontmost pew, hands folded gingerly across his lap. He feels a little awkward now, suddenly not so sure whether this is actually a good idea. He knows Enoch is infected, even if it is one of the (in Clove’s opinion) less harmful variants. That alone could cause serious problems should the priest decide to try and use anything he hears as a leg up.

But for what it’s worth, the impression Clove has of Enoch following the sermon and their late-night chat is positive. Perhaps for this situation having a little trust is a viable option.

“You’ll have to forgive me, it’s been quite a while since I’ve done this. They do say you never really forget but I’m not certain how true that is. Either way I may be a little rusty. I’m not exactly used to being quite as forthcoming nowadays. Downside of being so widely despised, I suppose.”

Clove doesn’t mean to sound too self-pitying, the words simply come out as such. There isn’t really any way to talk about being hated by a large group of people without it sounding too sorrowful. It had bothered him at first, when they’d first arrived at the Colony. He doesn’t remember what he was expecting but it’d been a great deal more positive than the group’s initial reception. Clove, for one, had been glad to learn of the NWRF’s rise to power. Infections aside he’ll always be in favour of having someone at the top. Leaderless chaos remains just that: chaotic. People need someone to lead and guide them and if that means Clove has to settle for being considered spineless and arrogant, he’ll find a way to deal with it.