(Don't) See Me

The Comforts of Home || Dylan & Felix

[He’d just missed the parasite, thank God, but he had heard about it, obviously. Well, he’d heard some things, and it’s hard to tell what’s fact and what’s rumour, but Felix has always sort of had selective hearing in that way, anyway. Rumour or truth, he’d believe what was convenient to him, or what was the most interesting. 

Still… covering it up? Covering up what? He’s heard people’s conspiracies about the parasite being not-exactly-an-accident, since apparently some of the Infected lost their powers when they got sick. But he doesn’t believe that the Reformists could be involved. Didn’t everybody get sick, after all? Infected and Uninfected, Reformists and anarchists? No, it must have been a coincidence. He’s not been here that long, but he can’t imagine the NWRF would do anything that disorganized or risky. It’s just stupid. 

Felix is careful, because Dylan seems like… legitimately upset. Her voice is cracking and her eyes are red and she’s struggling to get the words out, and though he’s confused and opinionated, Dylan is one of the few people he has here who is truly on his side, especially after what happened with Alois. She may be Infected, but she’s also NWRF.  Not only is she his friend, and one who reminds him of home, at that, but she’s also like, officially on his side. Politically. She’s a safe bridge he really doesn’t want to burn. ]

What, like… you mean what if he died because of the testing or something and they’re trying to cover it up? 

[He doesn’t know about that either. It’s possible… he’d believe it sooner than the idea that they’d done it on purpose. But obviously, if they’re covering anything up, it’s probably only because they’re trying to keep the whole Colony from panicking. Just another way they’re trying to protect the community.]

Yes. Yes, exactly. I know they wouldn’t have killed him on purpose, but he still died and no one can say why. And I can’t help but feel like it’s not because no one knows, but because they do know. [Dylan buries her face in her hands, tangling her fingers into her hair. It seems like the only thing keeping her here, anchored. Otherwise she feels unrmoored, untethered from everything else. Even herself. She doesn’t know what’s happening, or maybe she does but she doesn’t want to believe it, and she has no idea which one scares her more.]

I’m sorry. I know I’m not making sense. It just keeps rattling around in my head, you know? I can’t help wondering if it’s going to happen again. It seems like it already is. This is how it started last time, too. No one knew what was happening, no one was saying anything. It just kept getting worse. And there were these rumors that the Elites were covering it up. And now, again. Can’t help like feel it’s a pattern.

Going AWOL || Dylan & Quinn

[[ The first rounds of testing post-Kaiser’s death were bound to be a fraught time. Quinn was aware there were two options for him: hide away and hope it blows over, or, let himself be seen and unafraid. He isn’t afraid, but people would think otherwise if he kept himself sequestered away. He’s been told there has been a slight uptick in the number of Infected simply not turning up. Quinn decided to leave the repercussions of that up to Rocco, for now. Relinquishing small increments of power (temporarily) seems like something that could appease the mob. If they even care to notice.

Even if he’s indifferent to being hated, doesn’t mean it won’t get boring. Because by god, it is fucking boring.

Quinn’s walking outside, now, keeping an idle eye out for anyone playing hooky. What he isn’t expecting is to find, once again, Dylan Meir. Infected but sympathetic to the cause. Just as he thinks they all should be - Kaiser has proven there are deadly side effects beyond misuse, beyond being a danger to others.

She begins a fluttering apology. She’s afraid of him. At least he isn’t hated. It’s still not a good feeling, though. It’s then he realizes she’s still in what looks like pajamas. His expression softens. ]]

Dylan. [[ He says gently, the fatherly instinct he’s always had showing its face once more. It’s been hiding all this time, a very difficult thing to coax from him since he lost the title of ‘father’. ]]

Take a second. Breathe. [[ Would Althaea have been a nervous person? Would she grow out of her childish wonder, struggle through her teen years? Or would she flourish like her mother had, meet fear with curiosity and bravery? She took after her mother more than her father. For that, Althaea was lucky. ]]

Then we can talk. [[ An ominous phrase, so he continues. ]] I’m not angry.

[The first time Dylan had met the chancellor, it had been in conditions not unlike this. She’d skipped out on testing, instead opting to window-shop in the Hub. The chancellor had seen her and, of course, recognized that she was Infected despite her attempts to hide it. He was understandably cross with her and the resultant chewing-out had been so thorough it swayed her from even thinking about missing testing for the next month. She expected the same treatment now, especially since it was likely more important than ever that the Infected be examined. Instead, the chancellor says her name quietly, more like he’s trying to calm a nervous horse than scold a disobedient youth.]

[Perhaps even worse, it reminds her so much of her uncle. The way he’d sit her down with a cup of tea and that softness to her name. She’d be in trouble, sure, but he wouldn’t yell. He’d be disappointed, and that would sour in Dylan’s gut more than anger ever could. This feels much the same. Not only because he sounds so much the same, but because of everyone at Colony 22 he’s probably the person Dylan wants the approval of the most, and so far she’s failing miserably.]

[She tries to follow his advice. She breathes, but it’s shaky and hiccupping-- not helped in the least because he’s the chancellor and he’s not yelling at her and she wishes he would so she can get it over with already. He says he’s not angry and that’s even worse. He should be. She’s broken the rules, and she can feel herself on the verge of disappearing, and he should be furious. Dylan breathes and tries very hard not to vanish.] Why...why aren’t you angry? You have every right to be.

Horsing Around || Dylan & Annie

[She recognises the tight look of fleeting discomfort on Dylan’s face. It happens, sometimes, when Annie mentions her Delusion in any sort of detail. Sometimes she thinks she shouldn’t talk about it at all, to save the awkwardness – except if she pretends like everything is normal then she worries she’ll lose herself even deeper within the nightmare. Saying out loud that everything is normal will only reinforce that in her head. It will only keep her trapped longer.

But Dylan does make a good point about missing people. Annie’s family are still a million miles away – or potentially right next to her, if only she could reach out and touch them. It’s okay to miss them, even if she knows she’ll see them again some day.]

Yeah… yeah, maybe you’re right. [Annie smiles softly down at Dylan. She seems kind. Patient. Annie’s always more inclined to trust animal people; she thinks they tend to have more empathy. Maybe she’ll come back later, with a ribbon. It’d be nice to decorate one, maybe, like sew a cute design onto it. It wouldn’t mean her family are dead. It would just mean she’s missing them.

Running her fingers over the horse’s neck again (it’s comfortingly rough), Annie blinks and glances back to the main building.] Do you think we should, um, take Queenie back? She probably deserves a break, and I have to go to the kitchens soon. [She doesn’t really want to go back, because it’s nice being with the horse, and Dylan is good company, but escapism can’t lasts forever.]

[For a moment, Dylan sees her own discomfort reflected back on Annie’s face. It does something strange with her stomach; a tightening, fluttering feeling. She feels awful about Annie being Deluded-- she seems like such a sweet girl-- and yet she can’t help a small twinge of relief that at least Annie is as uncomfortable with is as Dylan is. Too many Infected have become used to their new way of living; some even take pride in it. Annie’s reaction, though not pleasant, is reassurance that at least not everyone has lost their minds.]

[At Annie’s suggestion, Dylan does a quick once-over of Queenie and her rider, and adjusts their course accordingly.] Unfortunately, I have to agree with you. Queenie needs a rub-down and I ought to be getting on with my other chores, too. [She chuckles a little to herself.] It’s funny-- the time and place may change but the work never does. You’re free to come back, though, any time you like. The horses could always use more company.

Horsing Around || LV + DM

[Lake is, needless to say, SHOCKED by this story, and his gaping jaw probably says so pretty clearly. If his mom were here, she’d probably say that thing about how he would ‘catch flies’ if he stayed like that. Which is such a stupid, cliche saying that doesn’t even really make that much sense, but it definitely horrified him as a kid anyway, because the last thing he wanted were flies buzzing into his mouth. He’d clamp his mouth shut so closed whenever she said that that his brain would tremor a little at the impact of his teeth clacking together. 

Funny, how you start to miss things you never used to like, when you’re parents aren’t around to annoy you anymore, and never will be. ]

You…. oh my GOD you WHAT? [To be fair, he did hear her. He’s just surprised. And impressed. And maybe a little horrified.] You ACTUALLY managed to STAND on your horse while it was GALLOPING?? That’s…. wow, that’s impressive. Really dumb and scary, but impressive. [He laughs.] 

Oh, really? So you don’t drink anymore? [It’s not weird, really. He knows lots of people who don’t drink. And he wouldn’t say he’s a BIG drinker or anything, but he’s like… definitely not one of those people who stopped drinking. He’s just so nervous and insecure that drinking usually… helps that a little. Well, helps him relax a little. Which probably isn’t the healthiest mentality, now that he thinks about it.] I’m not really a big drinker either, really. I mean, I do drink, but uh, I don’t usually get drunk, you know? [She probably really doesn’t care, Lake.] Anyway. 

I don’t really know if it counted as standing up. I barely had my feet under me before I went head over heels. I can’t even really remember it-- just that one minute I was upright and the next I was on the ground and my arm hurt like a bitch. [The other details she’d only learned after, when she was barfing up her guts the next morning. She didn’t even remember the ride to the hospital to get her cast, although she couldn’t ever forget how much the damn thing itched over the following weeks.]

But yeah, I don’t drink that much. A little bit of wine on Fridays, an occasional round or two at parties, but anything more than that makes me feel sick. [Rather, the memory of how sick she’d felt the last time she went overboard came back to hover menacingly over her shoulder.] Honestly, it’s more fun when you’re not pissed, anyway. You drink too much, you forget everything and end up puking into a toilet. Better to stick to small doses and really just enjoy whatever’s happening in the moment.

[She leads Queenie round a corner and there, against the walls, is the stable. Queenie’s pace picks up automatically, as the promise of a rub-down and maybe a sugar cube beckon her home.]

Horsing Around || Dylan & Annie

[’Don’t we all?’ Annie nods because it’s the kind of thing you’re meant to agree with, although she actually never really did want to travel much. The idea of it was fun, but she knew she’d get overwhelmed – her mom taking her to London had been huge, and although it was fun, Annie had been an anxious wreck the whole time. She was worried about saying something wrong in a restaurant or misunderstanding a cultural thing, being that dumb American.

But Dylan seems a lot less anxious than Annie. She’s got a sort of reassuring presence, like you can imagine her solving problems that come up.] 

I think it’s okay for people to put ribbons up for anyone they love, even pets. [Annie offers a small, encouraging smile even if Dylan can’t see it from down there. There’s no hard and fast rules, as long as people are respectful. And people are respectful; there’s never been any vandalism of the memorial.] But I’m glad Atlanta is still alive. I, um, don’t have anyone up there. It’s… my family are all alive, you know, just… not here. I’ll see them when I wake up. I don’t really have anything to mourn.

[She misses them, but she knows she’ll see them again some day. It makes Annie feel very fortunate. However frightening this world can be, she’ll be out one day.]

[Dylan is about to reply with her own thoughts about memorials and respect when the rest of Annie’s response hits her. She knew Annie was Deluded-- the girl had said so herself. But it was one thing to hear it and another thing entirely to see it. Dylan can’t say she’s encountered many Deluded people. In principle she tries to stay away from associating with any Infected too much, but the Deluded are a special case. Not quite dangerous, but not quite sane either. Annie seems like a sweet girl, and hardly a danger to anyone, but her words remind Dylan just how far removed from reality she is.]

Right. [She fixes her smile, not quite willing to spoil the mood but unsure about how else to respond. At length, she decided to focus on the one part she actually can relate to.] It’s hard, though. When you can’t see someone you miss. Can’t even talk to them. Even if you think you’ll see them again someday, it doesn’t make it hurt any less. So I think you could still put up ribbons, if you wanted. To remember the people you miss.

[Dylan thought she was fine. The initial panic following Kaiser’s death had worn off, aided by the funeral and her talk with Felix. She still felt shaky, and sometimes she found herself Faded and had to bring herself back, but she was fine. She was handling it. She could handle it. She’d handled worse, and she could get through this. She would get through this. It was getting better; she just had to take it one day at a time.]

[One day at a time seemed to be working right up until Testing Day. Dylan had almost forgotten, until she’d woken up to the reminder flashing on her PDD. All the anxiety she’d been pushing down surged back up into her chest and before she knew it she was behind the stables, pressing her back to the wall and trying to breathe. She hadn’t even bothered to get dressed. Getting dressed would mean she was ready for today and she was so far from ready. Just the thought of going into that sterile room and being asked to use her powers made her feel like throwing up. All she wanted to do was hide, but each time she felt the cold wash of her Infection creeping up her fingers she squeezed her fists until it hurt. Anything to keep herself from disappearing.]

[She was so intent on being present and, at the same time, hiding, that she didn’t notice she wasn’t alone until it was too late. Her eyes flew open as a polite, pointed cough startled her out of her focus. And, of course, out of all the people who could’ve found her, it was the worst possible one. All Dylan’s previous fears and anxieties disappeared, crushed under the new mortification of being confronted with the one person she looked up to more than anyone else in the Colony. The same person who, by sheer unfortunate coincidence, had caught her playing hooky before.]

Oh my god. Chancellor Quinn, you-- you. I mean. I didn’t know you came out here. That is-- I haven’t seen you out here before. You--you can do whatever you want. I’m sorry. I--I--I don’t usually... I’m not usually this much of a mess. I was just... I just needed some fresh air. I. Um. Sorry to disturb you. You don’t... I’ll go. I will. I’ll go back inside. You don’t have to yell at me or anything. I just. Need a minute. Please.

☀

The Comforts of Home || Dylan & Felix

[She looks sort of… out of it, as she lowers into the chair. Like she’s on autopilot, but her mind is somewhere else. Her movements are mechanical, tense. Felix’s mouth tightens, and he sets his notepad aside as he watches her frozen expression, flickering like a staticky television channel.] 

Oh, babes… [He can understand why she’d be scared. It’s a scary thing even for him, and he isn’t burdened with an Infection. He isn’t one of them. But poor Dylan is stuck like this—stuck with an Infection she doesn’t want, and she feels out of control for it. No wonder she’s nervous. He’d feel the same way.] Of course it’s scary… death is always scary, no matter who it is. We’re not, like… supposed to feel good about these things, even if the people dying aren’t people we know or really care about. 

But what do… what do you mean, wrong? Are you—you don’t believe the NWRF were responsible, do you? Don’t let people get into your head, darling. People will say anything to make people think Reformists are totally evil, when all they’re doing is trying to help people. Protect people. Like you, and me. And even Kaiser. 

[Only… it didn’t work with Kaiser. Because he’d resisted too hard. Maybe if he’d spent more time cooperating, he’d still be alive.]

[Felix is right that death is scary, maybe moreso than he knows. Before D-day, the only experience with death Dylan had had was with the cattle. Her uncle had made a point of having everyone who worked the ranch slaughter at least one cow, as part of learning how to run the ranch. Most of her aunts and uncles had done it a few times, both for meat and mercy. Dylan hadn’t been old enough yet-- just shy of a few months when the asteroids hit-- but she’d seen it done. She’d also seen the slaughterhouses where their cattle were turned into carcasses for butchering; she’d seen the bolt gun and the knife both. She was no stranger to death. But it was one thing to see an animal die, part of the cycle of life. It was another thing entirely to see people die. And D-day had been Dylan’s introduction. So yeah, death was scary.]

[It wasn’t that, though. Or, it wasn’t just that. It was the nature of it. What everyone was saying in hushed whispers or behind closed doors. And that it had been Kaiser of all people-- Kaiser, who for all his faults was by no means weak or unhealthy, and in fact had been fine not an hour before.] No, of course not. I know they’re not...they’re not murderers. I know they have our best interests at heart. But I can’t trust that they’re telling the whole truth. It’s just to...wrong. Remember way back in January, that weird parasite? What if this is like that, but worse, and they’re covering it up so nobody panics? I mean, no one even saw this coming so who’s to say it won’t happen again?

[She can feel herself breathing hard, reflexively swallowing down the lump in her throat, and she tries to get control of herself. It’s hard. Her whole life, she’d been taught that the best death is one you don’t see coming. Now she knows just how wrong that is.] What if Kaiser was just the first?

Horsing Around || LV + DM

[It’s sort of nice to hear her ramble. Not just because he likes hearing people talk about things they’re passionate about, but also because usually he’s the one rambling, so it’s nice when it’s someone else, for once. It makes him feel… more normal. More like everybody else. 

Not properly drunk? He laughs, but his eyes widen a bit and his jaw drops.] Uh, not properly drunk? Does that mean you’re a little drunk? Because let me tell you, if we’re going to be doing this riding lesson thing, it’s gonna have to be when you’re stone cold sober, so you can catch me when I inevitably fall. [He grins at her.] Also, is there not a thing about like, drinking and… riding? I feel like that should be a thing. 

[He’s kidding…. mostly. Because he’s mostly sure she’d been kidding also. But Lake is a gullible guy and he’s done so many wierd and illogical things that it’s hard to convince himself that other people wouldn’t.]  But, yeah, like, I get what you’re saying—or your uncle was saying—about it sort of being a…. lost art. Obviously a lot of people still did it but it obviously became about a… sport or a pass time. Not a day-to-day thing. And maybe cars were bad for the environment… but also… there was probably a lot less shit on the streets. 

No! Oh, god no! [Dylan is only a little shocked and offended by the suggestion, even as she knows he doesn’t mean anything by it. It’s her fault-- poor choice of words plus conflicting dialects equals a little miscommunication now and then. Honestly she’s only surprised it hasn’t happened sooner. It’s because she’s in the UK, she reckons; there are more similarities between British English and Aussie English than, say, American English. Perhaps a few too many for Dylan’s taste, really, but it’s better than having to listen to Yanks all the time.]

No, I promise I am completely, one hundred percent stone-cold sober. Never drink and ride, that’s the first rule I was taught when I was learning. And I haven’t broken it. Well, except for one time when I was fifteen. My first drive without any of my aunts or uncles-- just me and my cousins. It was a big deal, so we all got more than a little smashed, and someone dared me to stand up on Atalanta at a full gallop. I managed all of about two seconds before I fell off and broke my arm-- lesson learned there. [She grins a little bashfully, although her pride edges through at the corners. It had been a very impressive two seconds, from what she can remember.] But, uh. I haven’t done it since. Ridden drunk. Or gotten very drunk at all, really. Broken arm aside, that hangover really put me off booze as a whole.

Horsing Around || Dylan & Annie

[It’s nice, really reassuring, to hear that an escaped horse returned home. Obviously Dylan’s family must have treated it well. And it makes Annie happy to think that animals can feel like they’re a part of the family, just as much as the family feels like the animal is a part of it. She’d always felt like that about her dog.] 

I guess she just wanted to go for a trip and see the sights for a bit. [She’s half joking, but Annie does tend to look at things quite whimsically. As they talk, the Memorial comes into sight. It’s pretty, and maybe that’s not the first thing a person should think when they look at it, but it’s what she thinks anyway.] Do you ever put up ribbons, like for Atlanta, or for other pets?

[Mostly people seem to put up ribbons for people they’ve lost, never animals, even though animals can be such a huge part of a person’s life. It’s obvious Dylan is the sort of person that really cares for the animals she had before, but it’s difficult to say how emotional that connection is, or was. In Annie’s experience, people that grew up on farms can have extremely… practical opinions on animals, which sometimes seem cold to her.]

Don’t we all? I know I did. [She wouldn’t have left otherwise. Or, maybe she would’ve. She loves her family but things had changed after she became Infected. It felt more and more like she was a stranger among them. The opportunity to leave couldn’t have been more welcome. Then again, Dylan’s had the itch to travel since before D-day. She always would’ve come back-- there’s no place like home after all-- but she’d wanted to see what else was out there. Given the tiny glimpses she’d got from the radio or the old tv, the world seemed so much bigger back then.]

[Her eyes follow Annie’s to the ribbon tree, and her hand instinctively tightens around the reins.] No, not for pets. For one thing, Atalanta is still alive, just back in Oz. Couldn’t exactly take her with me. But I think the tree is more for people, and I wouldn’t want to disrespect that even if I had reason to. [She should put up a ribbon, though. For her uncle. She’s been meaning to for a while, but she has yet to get around to it. She’s busy. Or she just doesn’t have the heart for it.] What about you? Got anyone up there? If you don’t mind sharing-- it’s okay if you don’t.

The Comforts of Home || Dylan & Felix

[He’s been hiding out a lot lately—not necessarily in his dorm, because though it’s as good a place as any for some people, often Delma feels like the worst place for Felix to be, especially in a time like this. 

In a time like this, when everyone is so worried, so angry. When the Infected are running around spreading rumours and whispering behind hands, shutting up and glaring when an NWRF or a guard walks by. Most of the NWRF are Elites, older members of authority with a lot more power and responsibility than Felix. But often, suspicious, resentful Infecteds look at Felix the same way they do any other NWRF. Scathing, distrustful, contemptuous. And now, it would seem, things are even worse. He hardly even knows who this Kaiser person was, much less anything about his death. And yet some people look at him like it’s his fault, somehow, like he’s got some nasty little secret or that he’s about to throw a party to celebrate some dumb radical’s death. 

It’s stupid. It’s insulting. It’s just plain mean, and he’s tired of feeling bullied—(Felix, of course, will always find a way to make even someone else’s death about himself). Is he happy that Kaiser is dead? No, not really. Because death is something only psychopaths are happy about, (not to mention it’s sort of a giant mood killer), and even if Kaiser was a very bad man, he was also Ricky’s father, apparently, and Felix would never wish that sort of loss on anybody. Not even on his worst enemy. 

He doesn’t know if Kaiser deserved to die, exactly, because Felix doesn’t know enough about the man’s past or what he did, though from the rumours, he’s fairly confident Kaiser had done a lot of bad things, and had probably killed a lot of innocent people. But one thing Felix is pretty sure about, is his belief that Kaiser had done it to himself. Running around threatening and hurting people, using his telekinesis for evil, flaunting it about and thrashing around with it like an animal? Even if his infection hadn’t done it, Karma probably had. He’d got what was coming to him either way, sad as it was. And it really is sad. It’s a sad, sad, shame that people have to live like this, live through this, and he sincerely hopes his Infected friends make better choices, and live wiser than Kaiser had apparently lived. He also hopes those so-called scientists hurry up and find a cure, for everybody’s sake. 

He’s in the lounge working on lyrics when Dylan finds him. It’s pretty much abandoned at this point—no one’s in the mood to play foosball or old video games, he supposes. Which is fine by him, because he can get a bit of peace and quiet, and avoid the mean glares, as he bends over his notebook, humming quietly to himself and scribbling out ideas. 

He looks up, and he’s immediately taken aback by the look on her face. His eyes soften and droop at the edges and he closes his notebook around his pencil, setting it aside.] 

Oh, hon… of course. Are you alright? Do you want to sit? [Is it Kaiser that she’s upset about? It’s hard to tell. And it’s hard to imagine that she’d be this upset over someone like him. She doesn’t even like her Infection.]

[All of a sudden Felix is there, right in front of her, and it’s all Dylan can do to keep herself falling apart, into him. She’s so used to having someone who would catch her, a shoulder that she could cry on and an understanding ear, that the restraint chokes her like a leash. And the weight of it, the crushing reminder that she doesn’t have that anymore, is like the final straw on her back. She nods at his half-perceived question and sits mechanically in the nearest chair.]

I’m fine. I’m okay. [Lies, but white ones. She’s gotten so good at telling those to herself lately, it’s easy to tell them to him. She doesn’t keep up the ruse for long, though. After all, she didn’t go searching for Felix because she wanted a makeover.] I...I’m just scared. I don’t know. This whole thing with Kaiser... [She can’t put it into words. It sounds childish and stupid, being afraid of something she has no proof in.] I’m sorry. It’s not-- it shouldn’t be a big deal. I mean, I didn’t even know the guy, and from what I do know he was a right awful bastard. I shouldn’t care at all, much less be bloody scared! Bugger got what was coming to him.

[It’s an awful justification and even she knows it. She’s the last person on earth who has the right to play judge, jury, and executioner. No matter how awful Kaiser was, he didn’t deserve to die. And he especially didn’t deserve to be killed, if that’s in fact what happened. And yet, here she is. Justifying his death to avoid thinking about what it means for her.] I just. I don’t know, Felix. This whole thing just feels wrong.

Horsing Around || Dylan & Annie

[It’s nice listening to Dylan talk about horses; she’s obviously passionate about them, and it’s always nice hearing people talk about the things they love. It’s like when Maisie talks about movies, and she’s obviously got a way deeper understanding than Annie does so she can give her a new perspective. The way Dylan talks doesn’t feel condescending at all, it’s just like she knows this stuff about horses and she’s really excited to share it.] 

I guess animals are pretty smart like that, to be able to communicate without even having to use words. Although I don’t know how ‘in charge’ I am. [Annie grins, softly self-deprecating. If Queenie went rogue and galloped away, Annie wouldn’t know what to do except for cling on and try desperately not to fall off. If anyone is in charge here, it’s definitely Dylan.] Do you think they like getting ridden? Like… I don’t know, did you ever see that movie Spirit? How the horse was really upset when people tried to tame him and he really just wanted to be free and do horse stuff? It makes me wonder how they feel about this stuff, or if they’re actually like, friends with us.

People do it, too. We’re just not as good at listening. [People also tend to hide their feelings a lot more. Either to themselves or to everyone else. Dylan was lucky, coming from a family very open about any grievances they had and encouraging communication, but even then it wasn’t perfect. Dylan’s had her fair share of dinners stewing at the table or locked away in her room blasting loud, angry music. And, of course, after her Infection came in there were times when all she wanted to do-- all she did-- was disappear.]

I haven’t seen Spirit, but it sounds like he was feral maybe. Lots of ‘wild’ horses were feral. It’s just like dogs and cats; when they’re born all they know is to defend themselves. They’re not used to people. But once you get them used to you, train them up, it’s the greatest gig of their lives. I had a horse, Atalanta, who escaped a few times. She could’ve run off and we never would’ve found her, but she always came back. I don’t think she would’ve if she didn’t want to.

After the After Party || Dylan & Felix

[ ‘You know, I can’t say I’m too surprised that not everybody loves you.’ 

If Felix were less proud, he would have allowed himself to be visibly insulted, even as she’s smiling like she doesn’t mean it, like it’s only a joke. As it stands, though, even if it does trigger concerns about his deepest insecurities, he can’t risk people knowing he worries about that, because he has the image to uphold of being perfect and amazing and enviable. People don’t look up to people who are insecure about being loved, about being good enough. They look up to people who know they’re good enough—they’re better than good, even—and who are confident in their skin.

So instead, he rolls his eyes and playfully sticks out his tongue at her. He’ll play along, like he’s meant to play along, like it doesn’t bother him, like he doesn’t hear it and think ‘but what if it’s true?’ because that’s what’s expected of him, and because he wants her to keep seeing him as this confident, admirable star.

He takes solace in the fact that she looks uncomfortable at his question, though. Not because he wants her to be uncomfortable, but because if she’s uncomfortable, maybe she won’t notice that he is, too. And if she’s uncomfortable, then at least he’s not the only one. She couldn’t call him out for being insecure, because she’s got something she’s insecure about too. She’s infected—she pulls down her sleeves like it’ll hide her shame. It doesn’t. He sees her and he pities her. Really, he does. Because she’s a sweet, funny girl, and he’s glad she’s here. She doesn’t deserve the stain of an Infection. Such a burden to carry. She doesn’t deserve that ugliness smothering her pretty face and kind spirit. It sort of makes him want to protect her. To hold her hand and tell her that she’s still beautiful, even if she’s Infected. And that one day, they will cure her and everything will be as it should be.

He nods as she brings up the tattoo thing. He doesn’t know a lot about it, but he did hear rumours, definitely. And a lot of NWRF grumbling about not wanting repeats of that night.] Oh, yeah, I did hear about that. See, that’s what I was thinking… plus, like. I think people here really get off on teasing me. They know who my father is, after all, and they’re probably just intimidated. Like, I just… I feel like I just know it was someone messing with me. And I sort of want to know who but also… I don’t know if it will be worth the effort. iIt’s too bad, though, because I’m sure my father could get them in trouble for it. I don’t have anything against the Infected—obviously, like I’m dating one, and I’m friends with you and then there’s Koda and Costin who are so important to me—but there’s no reason to use their Infections to be bullies. Like, that sort of puts a bad name on everyone else, right? 

[He sighs.] Anyway, whatever. [He turns his attention back to the makeup, and gently takes her face. She didn’t oppose his question, so he’s assuming she doesn’t mind. Carefully, he pulls at her eyelid and holds his breath as he expertly draws a light line across her lower eyelid and into the corner. He does the same on the other side, then pulls back to admire his work, and make sure they match.] 

There, [he says with a beaming smile.] Ugh, just as I thought… a little bit goes such a long way with you. You look, like, totally hot, Dee. Have a look. [He gestures to the mirror, leaning in closer to her to look at her reflection over her shoulder, as well. He grins.] See how gorgeous you are? Own it, girl, and remember it this feeling. Because that’s you and you should feel this good even when you don’t put on make up. That’s what being a Queen really is. Totally owning your own beauty and slaying people with it. 

[In Dylan’s wholly private opinion, she doesn’t really think the sabotage of Felix’s party-- if it was sabotage at all-- had anything to do with him. While he is a public and (somewhat) popular figure at the colony, he’s not very political. She can’t see the more radical Infected coming together, planning it all out, executing whatever plan they had just to mess with some celebrity’s party, no matter how much they disliked him. If they did in fact target the party it was for more political means. A statement, maybe, or just a test of their powers. Dylan doesn’t voice this thought, though, because she knows that no matter how well-intentioned it would sound, Felix would take offense. The thought of anyone doing anything, especially something that drastic, without him being the center of it would be completely appalling.]

I think people who have power will use it to gain any kind of advantage they can over other people, even it’s just to show off, [She says instead. That’s not entirely untrue-- the Infected do like showing off. Reminding people of just how easily the tides could turn. And, in a way, it’s true of Felix too. He didn’t throw that whole party out of the goodness of his heart, no matter how much he might want others to think so. It was a reminder of who he used to be and who he thought he still was.]

[All those thoughts go out the window, though, as he turns to show her the fruits of his labours. If Dylan hadn’t watched him work, she would’ve thought she was looking at a total stranger. Her hair, her eyes; it all looks so different. Completely foreign to how she usually presents herself. For once she actually looks put together, deliberately. She might even say, from her limited experience, that she looks like a movie star. And, to her surprise, she likes it, and she can’t help grinning at herself as she turns this way and that to admire herself.] I...God, I don’t even know what to say. I didn’t think you’d be able to... not that you couldn’t, but I’ve never done anything like this. It’s...thank you.

[She twists in her chair to peck Felix on the cheek. It’s hardly a display of how she really feels; that’d be more akin to dancing him around the room, but it’s enough to show her affection and gratitude. With a bold, adventurous flip of her hair she lifts herself out of her make-over chair and heads to the door.] Now. Don’t think I let that comment about dating slip-- I want to know all the details. Just because I’m a country girl doesn’t mean I don’t love a bit of gossip.

Horsing Around || LV + DM

[For a second he’s pretty sure she’s serious and he almost chokes on his own tongue. His heart drops to his stomach, but then she’s laughing and he blinks, and clutches as his own chest, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.] Oh, God, you’re KIDDING. Oh, okay. Thank God, because like, woah. Woah, girl, not yet. [He realizes ‘woah girl’ is sort of something you say to a horse, so in this context, it’s almost funny he’s saying it to a person, but he really hopes that’s not noticeable, or that Dylan doesn’t think anything of it. Because he definitely doesn’t mean anything by it. 

He’s actually really relieved when she takes the reins and just starts walking the horse for him. That’s actually a relief. He wasn’t sure if he was going to have to like, steer her himself and take the horse somewhere himself, and as a first time riding, it definitely takes the pressure off.] 

Actually… [he nods, shrugs.] Honestly, actually not too bad? Yeah, I mean. I feel good. It’s not so bad up here, once you get used to it. And like, you’re here, so that… helps. 

.

Damn right it feels good. Like you’re king of the world. You could go anywhere. [That’s how Dylan’s always felt about it. There’s something powerful about it; not just the flesh and blood of the animal at your disposal but the training, the connection. It takes a long time to forge a bond between horse and rider but even a stranger will respond to commands. There’s not much left of that kind of power these days, and Dylan clings to what she can get for as long as she can.] It’s a bit intoxicating, if I’m honest.

You know, in some ways, I’m kind of glad we don’t have cars or trains or whatever anymore. Not that they weren’t useful, but there’s just something different about actually having a partnership with another living thing. When he got really pissed my uncle would go on long tangents about how the “Age of the Horse” was dead and what a tragedy it was, and he was kind of right. We spent so long domesticating them and then we just... forgot how good we had it the second something shinier and newer came along.

[She clears her throat awkwardly.] Sorry, I’m rambling. And I’m not even properly drunk, which is twice as embarassing

Horsing Around || Dylan & Annie

[If there was any lingering weirdness or tension at the apology, it dissipates when Dylan says some horses can be mean. It makes Annie laugh, because it’s such a strange thought, a ‘mean’ horse. Bad tempered makes sense, but mean puts her in mind of a horse with a perfect manicure and perfect ponytail refusing to invite Annie to its birthday party or something.] 

I don’t know, I think it could be fun if animals got Infections. Imagine if they could use telepathy, and talk to us. Although… I guess it would just be neighing or whatever, we probably still wouldn’t understand them. I used to have this dog, Nimbus, and I always really wished I could understand her. Like do animals think about stuff? Or is it just like, walk carrot nap run carrot oats.

[She likes to imagine animals do have deeper thoughts, because they’ve always been nicer to her than people. It’d be depressing if they didn’t have real thoughts, like they were only nice to Annie because they were too dumb to do anything different.]

I wouldn’t really know. Sometimes it seems like they’re so smart, like they can tell what you’re thinking without you having to say anything, and sometimes they’re honest to god the dumbest creatures on the planet. So it’s a toss up, whether they’d be able to communicate with us or not. Personally I’d hope so. It’d be nice to know what they’re thinking, and to properly tell them off when they’ve been bad. [There’s been plenty of times in Dylan’s life when she’s needed both. More recently, it’s been the former-- someone to talk to, to confide in without judgments. Of course, there’s the risk that if they could talk her horses would judge her quite harshly. And for that reason, Dylan’s quite happy that this is all hypothetical.]

Tell you what, though, most animals can communicate plenty with that they have. Body language, some sounds. Like Queenie right now, see how her ears are turned back towards you, but not fully pricked? That means she’s paying attention to you, the rider, but she’s not worried. She’s relaxed, she knows you’re in charge and I won’t let anything happen. If she was irritated or scared her ears would be flat back against her head, and if she was bored she’d be swinging her head around or pawing at the ground. Maybe she can’t say what she’s feeling, but she can show us plenty.