IDAHO FALLS, ID.

EVA & ZAHRA

MATTY & JO 

OPHELIA & SIMON

ORION & DOMINIC

DOMINIC & MARA

SURI & ORION

NELE & NIKOLAI

FELIX & GILBERT

NIKOLAI & TEDDY

ANSO & SURI

SIMON & NELE

GILBERT & MATTY

VINCENT & EVA

HENRIK & ANSO

TEDDY & OPHELIA

MARA & GABRIEL

JO & HENRIK

GABRIEL & DAIYU

DAIYU & VINCENT

OOC.

name: G Age: 27 Pronouns: She/her Timezone: gmt - 5 previous roleplay blog: redacted triggers: redacted wanted connection?: n/a – not an official connection but I did speak to Yen before applying since Orion and Jo will be pseudo family vibes!

IC.

Name: Johana “Jo” Lucilla Herrera gender & pronouns: cis woman & she/her faceclaim: Adria Arjona age & birthdate: 34 & July 31, 2009 occupation: Soldier immunity: N/A

Skills.

skill one: technology.

Jo’s mother was a computer engineer before the outbreak and when their family ended up on the Galatea, she offered her skills aboard the ship. She spent much of her childhood at her mother’s side, watching and learning how to do what she did as, over the years, she’d repair and reconstruct old systems to keep them working. It’s come in handy more times than she can think, added to it Orian’s mentorship with small mechanical lessons, her grasp of technology grew exponentially in her youth and has become a valuable skill these days.

skill two: linguistically gifted.

Jo grows up around a multitude of languages. Spanish and English dominate her early years before French and Mandarin and Czech and Russian and Arabic permeate her days. Her ears are trained to pick up change in ton, in phrasing and words and eventually she picks up on more than that, learning to read and write. It’s one of the few things that brings her genuine joy. Few things beat the thrill of finding someone with a shared tongue, one of a home they may never see again. She bridges the gap for them, giving them a place to land. Not to mention it’s helpful when people want to keep secrets, using languages they think no one can understand. She’s picked up more along her travels and finds it an easy and useful past-time to have, collecting books from various stops over the years and teaching herself different languages.

skill three: navigation.

Life at sea meant using the stars as guides. She learned from her father and the ship’s first mate how to read the night sky and her innate sense of direction translated from sea to land when they finally docked on the West Coast. She’s hard pressed to get lost. If she goes anywhere once or has reference points, it becomes intuitive for her to get to where she needs to go. Over the years, she’s used this skill and begun to record different trails and paths and journeys she’s taken, having a few notebooks of meticulously drawn maps for her record.

positive traits.

trait one: lionhearted.

Jo isn’t sure if she was born brave or if it’s just something she learned. She takes whatever glimmers of courage comes her way by the firstful, determined to hold on as life throws everything her way. She squeezes her eyes shut against the dark before facing it head on, chin lifted in challenge. She’s lost so much and she’s still standing. It fuels her. It makes her feel like a wild thing, unafraid of those who might harm her. What more can they do?

trait two: determined.

Ever headstrong, she’s an unmovable mountain in the face of a storm. Few things can sway Jo from her convictions, unable to change her mind if she’s fully convinced of something. Luca was one of those things but he’s long gone and all that’s left is a memory. So she stands her ground, solid as a weathered oak, a bit bent and bowed but not broken. Never broken.

trait three: astute.

Very little escapes Jo’s notice, a glance, a smirk, a whisper – keen eyes catch onto all of it. Being observant has served her well, her shrewd nature not only keeping her on her toes but keeping her alive when she needs it most.

negative traits.

trait one: impatient.

Jo’s never been one to wait for the perfect opportunity and when she’s forced to, it goes against everything she is. She feels trapped, caged, when she can’t take action, when she’s told to wait, to seek the opportune moment. While her impatience has saved her when quick decisions are necessary, it’s also gotten her in trouble more than once.

trait two: arrogant.

From the time she’s a little girl, she’s told to keep her chin up, head unbowed, and will unbroken. She fixes her gaze in the face of those who seek to make her feel like less than she is. Her pride keeps her from asking for help, closed fists and suspicion creates distance from others. It also prevents her from relying on them too much. She thinks she’s invincible. Sometimes, she feel like it too. But Jo’s arrogance builds a wall around her, protecting her from anything that might cause harm while simultaneously keeping her from anyone who might offer help.

trait three: stubborn.

Her determination wins her as many admirers as her stubbornness does adversaries. What might be a virtue in one instance quickly becomes a vice in the next. Her bullheaded ways can hinder her, it can isolate others but she finds it hard to see it as a bad thing. After all, there’s a reason she’s stayed alive for so long and it’s not because she’s agreeable.

biography.

tw for trauma, illness, cancer, death, violence

2009 – 2012: When you’re born, life is simple. Chicago is a cold city but you’d never know it, the way your parents wrap their arms around you, keeping you safe and warm. Your mother, Elena, is a professor of computer engineering at Northwestern and your father, Victor, is an Air Force pilot. There are a dozen photos of you crawling around your mother’s office, surrounded by computer parts, and others of you wearing one of your father’s aviators, a laughing smile on your small face. And when your father receives a new assignment, stationed in Honduras at the Soto Cano Air Base, your mother takes sabbatical for the year: both of your parents are strong believers in spending your early years together. So you pack up your life and make your way down to Central America. Your mom says a year will pass in the blink of an eye. No one knows that it’ll be decades before you return.

2013:  When all hell breaks loose, you’re at the market with your mom. You remember the screams. The crush of people. You remember clinging to your mom as, by some miracle, you make it home. It’s not long before your dad returns, frantically ushering you both into the car, still in uniform from the base. There’s a flight that will take your family to Panama, to the boats there. Sea is safest, they’re saying. It won’t belong before everything is shut down and closed off and this is your chance. You’re still too young to understand the way they throw supplies in a bag, or the way you barely make it out of Honduras, the small town you called home for a time burning in the rearview mirror.

2015: You make it to the base and the plane that takes you to the carrier. It's one of the last ones to pass through the Panama Canal. And, before you know it, it’s been two years at sea. You’re six years old now, one of the few children who’ve made it aboard with other military officials and their families. You’re a bit of a leader in the makeshift school that’s established, all knobby knees and sharp elbows. You’ve got a sharp wit and a sharper mouth, all jagged edges in a world now made of them. Your mother chides you to be kind, your father tells you to be wise. They both teach you how to survive. How to stretch rations. How to read. How to protect yourself. They don’t know what’s waiting for you all out there but they’re determined that you’ll be prepared.

2016: Illness creeps aboard and claims the life of more than thirty on board, including the longstanding captain of the ship. Power shifts. Your parents are unwilling to let you out of their sight as violence becomes commonplace. They whisper into the late hours of the morning, concern etched on their features as your mother holds her stomach. With the change in power, your father’s position as an officer is less secure as resources dwindle and tensions rise. Already complaints have circulated about small rations. Announcing there’ll be another mouth to feed isn’t an option.

2016: You’re roused from your sleep in the middle of the night, your father keeping a hand over your mouth to silence your questions as he and your mother pack your bags. Your Uncle Alex, your father’s closest friend aboard, gestures that the coast is clear. You’re shuffled from your quarters, to one of the tender boat bays. You’ll later understand why your father had tears in his eyes as he said goodbye to Alex. You’ll hear the story eventually, how he’d heard a freighter ship on the radio, one of the first ships you’ve encountered in years, and promised to help your family escape, knowing what would happen to your mother if they found out she was pregnant. You’ve never seen your father beg but when you finally encounter the Galatea, you see the desperation in his face. And so does its captain.

2016: Your brother is born aboard the Galatea. Luca is everything to you and more. You watch over him as he sleeps and you make those promises all over again. That you’ll snap and snarl and do whatever it takes to keep him safe.

2017 – 2025: The Galatea is home now. Your family pulls their weight. Your mother keeps systems running, and your father works on machinery. You learn by doing and you become your mothers shadow most days, watching her work. The ship is a kaleidoscope of people from all over and you pick up on languages you’ve never heard. You and Luca are thick as thieves, your little brother your favorite companion and student all in one. You learn from your father how to throw a punch, and you practice playfully on Luca. You learn from anyone who will teach you, be it maps or navigating by moonlight, you pick up skills and remember your parents’ words: we don’t know what’s out there.

Still, the monsters on land are different from the one that claims your father’s life. Cancer is incredibly fast moving when you’ve little to treat it with. Your eyes burn as his body, wrapped in a faded flag, is lowered into the ocean.

2026 – 2029: You become restless after that. You’re angry.  You’re hurting. You throw yourself into whatever task you’ve been assigned, itching for more. A wild thing starts to take hold of your heart and you find yourself looking towards the horizon, wondering if you’ll ever see land again.

2030: All things come to an end, and your time at sea is curtailed by lack of rations and concerns over the engines. When the decision is made, your heart races with anticipation and apprehension. You draw close to your small family as you dock on the west coast and embark on the next chapter of your life. Your feet are unsteady but you keep your head up, determined to keep those you love safe.

2032: Some people go their own way but most of the Galatea stays together, trekking along the old Pacific Crest Trail. The world doesn't seem so bad there and life falls into a routine until you cross into Oregon and your journey becomes that much more treacherous. It’s no one's fault but you blame yourself when it happens. Your mother comes to your aid as you help an injured crew member and everything after happens too fast. You hear her scream as she tells you to run, as you and Luca are dragged away by others. It’s too late. You’re too late. And it costs you.

2033 – 2037: The years blur together after that. You stick close to the crew as the promise of Jackson keeps you going. You’re skeptical of how real the place is but you need something to believe in. As you trek along the west coast, you keep track of where you’ve been and make note of where you’re trying to go. It gradually becomes clear that the infected aren’t the only thing to worry about in the wild. Raiders and thieves are rampant outside of QZs and one such raid leaves you at the gates of Idaho Falls. Luca’s been injured and you’re determined to get him care. You lie and tell them that he’s a surgeon in training. That he’s got skills worth saving. It’s the only reason they agree. But when infection settles into his wounds, his supposed skills aren’t enough to expend more resources on. When Luca dies, so does a part of you.

2038 – 2044: Why stay? Because there’s nowhere else to go. You blame Alexei for Luca’s death even if you know no one could’ve saved him. You want revenge but you also need purpose. Something to push you forward. Survival isn’t enough on its own anymore. And as life in Idaho Falls continues, your losses weigh heavy on your heart but each day you take another step forward. After all, who amongst you has not suffered? You’re not sure what the point of it all might be, but you’ve always been scrappy and determined. Despite everything, you can’t give up. You’ve always been a fighter, claiming each day that comes your way.

arcs.

arc one. no man is an island

I’d like to see Jo rely on others. She has a few close trusted friends from the Galatea, but I think that as things continue to escalate, Jo will need to reevaluate her relationships and start making ones that last within Idaho Falls. There’s a storm coming and it’s threatening to blow everything away. Like anyone else, she needs people to ground her and keep her steady so I’d love to develop that.

arc two. what are you fighting for

Jo is a soldier who’d previously had sights set on becoming an enforcer. For so long she wanted some sort of revenge on Alexei but in recent years, I think she’s lost that thread a bit, consumed by the day to day. With the uprising beginning, I wonder if she’ll want to get in on it now after so long, or if she’ll think more about what benefits her. When you’ve wanted something for so long and finally get it, sometimes you forget why you wanted it in the first place.

extras.

OOC.

Name: M Age: 26 Pronouns: she/her Timezone: gmt previous roleplay blog: redacted triggers: redacted wanted connection?: n/a

DOMINIC FLETCHER

gender & pronouns: cis man, he/him faceclaim:  ryan gosling age & birthdate: 42, 20th November 2001 occupation: enforcer. immunity: no.

skills:

The Purged knowledge: due to being born in the doomsday cult that eventually became the purged. Despite leaving at 17, he knows their way of thinking and could potentially come in useful for any possible tactics they might use.

Long-range weapon proficiency: From his time with FEDRA, he was trained and maintained these skills. He’s great cover and an accurate shot, enjoys being able to scope a place from a distance for any potential dangers.

Interrogation: Also from his training with FEDRA. His upbringing in The Purged has also helped these skills, as Dominic now sees the power of the mind. His tactics usually involve befriending who he’s interrogating over a short period of time, bringing them food and water and earning a sense of trust. He’s a one man good cop bad cop show with captured enemies.

positive traits:

Calm: Dominic presents as calm in all areas of his life, even when under pressure. It’s possible for it to be confused as passiveness as it’s rare for Dom to raise his voice or show outward emotions of anger, frustration or even sadness. He performs well in high pressure situations, and usually seems unphased. This could also be confused as aloofness or detachment issues. 

Empathetic: Dom can easily put himself in other people’s shoes, which makes him a good listener and he can offer good advice if he’s ever asked. His empathy also extends beyond human emotions and to situations too, able to see bigger pictures without black and white thinking.

Fair: After existing in two extremes of the factions, Dominic has been able to see how not to treat others or enforce rules. His ideas of ‘laws’ and ‘rules’ are never extreme, and would possibly fall under the anarchy political views of the old world. The punishments must match the crime. This translates into his day to day life of treating others fairly until given a reason not to.

negative traits:

Blunt: Dominic is always straight to the point, which isn’t a surprise considering he was practically raised in FEDRA forces. He doesn’t beat around the bush and while he can understand if someone doesn’t like what he says, if it needs to be said then so be it. 

Superstitious: Due to his early childhood, Dominic has many superstitions which have remained. Luckily, nothing as extreme as The Purged but his superstitions still impact his day to day behaviours which others may find strange. These superstitions stem from a fear of the unknown, wishing to work out why things are the way they are. 

Impatient: Dominic hates inaction over anything else, and definitely exudes an impatient aura especially if it’s an important situation. He’d rather dive head first into something and figure out the rest, perhaps coming across as impulsive at times. “Spit it out.” is a phrase he uses often.

story:

2001 - 2013 Dominic Fletcher’s story begins with the sound of hymns and a peaceful enough way of existing. His parents were run of the mill small town folk. Religious, superstitious and easily swayed. They had no idea that their new chapter as a young married couple was being written in the beginnings of a cult. Their deep running beliefs made them easy targets for the charismatic leader to lure them in and eventually welcome their first and only child. Why would they question it? Life was beautiful, knowing that when the inevitable happened them and their young boy Dominic would be saved.

He was raised with this belief too, alongside friends that he called cousins and neighbours that he called aunts and uncles. Community was the first word that came to mind, picking one another up when they needed it. It didn’t last for long, a month after Dom turned twelve, the whole world changed. News spread like wildfire, and so did the shift within his community. The day they had all been preparing for was happening, proof that the prophecies were true and to stick together now more than ever. Dominic had no say in the matter, joining his family in the base created in Yellowstone. At first, life seemed unchanged but the cracks began to appear not only to Dominic but also to his parents.

2013 - 2018 During the next five years, the practices The Purged threw themselves into went against everything that Dominic thought they stood for. Seeing their friends willingly or unwillingly become ‘sacrifices’ was the last straw. He and his parents planned and attempted their escape late one night, only to be captured while en route. Instantly, as punishment Dominic’s father was executed before their very eyes. The only thing that could be done was to try and escape with his mother, eventually slipping free a few days later.

2018 - 2023 It didn’t take long for them to fall into the arms of FEDRA, believing they were safe. Almost immediately, Dominic was recruited into their forces and began gruelling training. He was promised that extra rations would be given to his mother, but after completing training he never saw her again. While being broken down to be built back up into the perfect fighting machine, Dominic came to terms with the trickery from his childhood. Bitterness crept in, making Dominic see FEDRA as the only hope for a better world. Once ready, he was a willing soldier and fighter believing every bit of propaganda he was fed.

2023-present When he was sent to Idaho Falls as back up, Dominic’s eyes were opened once again. The sights reminded him of The Purged with senseless violence and the obvious brute force from FEDRA towards people simply trying to survive. Without care for his own life, Dominic abandoned his post and joined the uprising. He willingly gave over intel about FEDRA strategies he was aware of, and found himself all too happy to die for a completely new cause.

After the uprising came to its bitter and violent end, Dominic decided to remain in Idaho Falls. While his judgement of trusting people had previously cost him greatly, something there felt right. Maybe he needed to look trickery in the eye for him to be able to see the truth, that’s something he often tells himself. It’s been almost two decades in Idaho Falls, Dominic climbing from a soldier to an enforcer during this time and it’s a role he takes very seriously. He is undoubtedly somebody who despises abuse of power and as a result isn’t power hungry or throwing around his title as an excuse or with entitlement. He still works just as hard as he always has done, feeling a sense of inner peace for finding somewhere with people he can trust.

arcs:

I can picture quite a few scenarios for Dominic! I always love exploring various avenues with characters too, so the possibilities are endless.

Dominic seeking revenge against the purged would be a massive arc to explore. I’d be willing for any and all drama to be honest! Dominic being kidnapped by them, someone he’s formed a close friendship with in Idaho Falls being kidnapped by them. 

OOC.

Name: Yen

Age: 27

Pronouns: she/her

Timezone: hst

previous roleplay blog: redacted

wanted connection?: n/a

IC.

 Name: Orion Lum

gender & pronouns: Cis man, he/him

faceclaim: Daniel Henney

age & birthdate: 45, 12 February 1999.

Occupation: Mechanical Engineer

immunity: Yes, but he doesn’t know it.

skills.  

Mechanical Engineering. Orion grew up learning about engines and heavy machinery many times the size of himself, and things he works on these days are far less difficult to understand by comparison. He finds it a bit fascinating to see it all in smaller scale, though he will admit it can be slightly infuriating at times because things are so small.

Radio/Communications. His mother was one of the communications specialists aboard the cargo barge he grew up on, and she spent many an hour teaching a fascinated little boy about all things communications and radios. Given enough time and the right parts, he can usually MacGyver old and decrepit radios into working states.

Metal Working. Orion knows how to weld both underwater and above water. Gotta learn how to patch the holes in your ship when you can't take it in for dry dock maintenance, and it's a skill that's become quite valuable to know how to do it well with minimal waste.

 positive traits.

Patient. If there's something the monotony of being at sea for weeks at a time brings, it's an astounding amount of patience. He's resilient and dedicated in his work, and rarely does impatience or frustration shake his convictions.

Clever. Perhaps it started with an obsession with a rubix cube as a kid, but Orion often finds himself fascinated by puzzles and the challenge of finding and fixing unknown problems with machines. He's always enjoyed the puzzle of finding out what makes a machine tick (or not tick), and any time he gets a new machine to dig around in is always rather stimulating for his intellectual curiosities. The more obscure the problem, the more eager he is to look for that unexpected or unconventional answer to the riddle.

Gentle Giant. He's often been told that when he works he often wears a rather intimidating look of concentration that's often mistaken for the colloquially named "resting bitch face". He doesn't often intentionally put on airs of intimidation often, but combined with his height and stature, on the occasion it's called for it comes in quite handy. Otherwise, though he can fend for himself, he’s a bit more pacifist in nature, with actual violence as something as a last resort.  

negative traits.

Non Confrontational: Finds a certain comfort in routine and relative safety. If his bubble isn’t actively threatened, he’s not likely to test actions that he perceives could potentially upset his status quo.

Self Sacrificing. Doesn’t often let himself say no enough. He has a tendency to put others first, perhaps a little too often.

Defensive: Though he doesn't always act on it, he hates being condescended to by holier than thou individuals who let their perceived rank blow their heads up with bravado. The value of being humble with your fortune was something instilled in him from a young age, and to see many enforcers let their designation of power get to their head grates on his nerves, especially when it’s directed towards himself.

 Cw: parental death

You've spent more of your life on water than land, at least, that'd been the case when the world went to hell. Your father had been the captain of a cargo freight liner, your mother part of the crew, and as long as you can remember you've always called the sea home. The story goes they took you out to sea as soon as the doctor gave the okay, and you took your first steps on floors that rolled with waves. You said your first words somewhere between Hawaii and Guam, learned your alphabet where A was for, not Apple, but Alpha. B was for Bravo. Charlie, Delta, Echo, and so on. Some kids learned to count with blocks, you learned to count shipping containers, your maths with shipping manifests. Some kids learn their first bad words on the playground, you learned them in the galley with the colorful vocabulary of a crew of seamen.

By the time you’re 12 or 13, most kids are entrenched with the dramas of middle school, but you’re arms deep in engine grease and welding masks because you’ve made friends with the old geezers that keep the ship together. They teach you all there is to know about mechanics, but of course they have the sense to start you off on small watercraft before they let you at the bowels of the engine rooms. With it all of course, comes the knowledge of how to take apart, put back together, and of course operate a dozen or so different water vehicles and heavy equipment. You're even getting paid for it. It's a life on the open seas and you love it.

Mom unexpectedly passes you when you're 14, and you and the sea are all there is to keep dad together. But the world falls to pieces before he can, and it all happens with a single radio transmission.

At first you stay out at sea because the ports have closed temporarily. At first you and the others of the small crew grumble, because you've been at sea for weeks and the desire for shore leave is just beyond their reach--there’s much to catch up on, after all. Friends to see, food to eat, new movies to watch--but you remain aboard even though you’re all not happy about it. But then, the radio transmissions become more dire. "Closed for an abundance of caution" becomes "closed for containment" and so on. Disgruntled impatience with the bureaucracy of Port Authority turns from disbelief, to shock and horror. Eventually they stop receiving transmissions. And the silence ends up being far more unnerving than receiving patchy news of the infected was.

There had been a line of freight liners, posted for weeks outside the port as commercial trade came to a standstill, and a choice had to be made. Some, like your dad, wanted to turn the freight vessel around and get back out to open sea. If things had gone bad enough that transmissions had gone down, being a stone's throw away from the shore surely wasn't a good idea. But some all the same wanted to get to land. And so the crew divided. Your dad lets some of the crew go off for shore, the rest of you remain, the ones that look to silent and smoking shores with too much unease. You weigh anchor, leaving the congested water lanes at the Port of Los Angeles far behind you for open sea. They'd been lucky enough to have enough fuel to get them a fair distance out to sea, because news carries from other radio frequencies used by other freight carriers--the situation gets monumentally worse on the continent. Very, very quickly.

A temporary retreat to the sea becomes permanent for the foreseeable future. The cargo you were all once so eager to offload, but hadn't been allowed to, miraculously carries your survival for over a decade before they're scraping the bottom of the barrel. There's no more food. The non-perishables they'd been lucky enough to be transporting when it all went to hell runs out. The meager crops they’ve managed to grow from seeds scavenged from your containers get swept away or drowned in sea water after a bad storm. Fish, though a logical source for food, isn’t reliable when you’re not best equipped for it. You’re on a frigate, after all, not a fishing vessel.

Moral isn’t good. It damn well tanks with your father’s unexpected death. He'd been a stubborn man, and a storm at sea had the man hitting his head in just the wrong way. He'd been fine, initially, just a sore bump, he'd said. But he dismisses the seriousness of it all, doesn't tell anyone of the throbbing bruise beneath his hair that simply gets worse.

One day he doesn't wake up.

It's not long after that, supplies are basically nil, and the state of the engines is becoming more and more of a concern. You’ve done your best, but there’s only so much you and the crew can do without your ship seeing a dock for proper maintenance for over a decade. It’s time.

So they make the tough call to fire up the engines properly and weigh anchor. These days you operate using minimal power to get by, only firing up the engine enough to make sure she doesn’t corrode - keeping her in good enough shape so she could meet the inevitable task of one last journey. You dip into that last reserve of fuel that’s just enough to get you close enough to shore to take a skiff, and the first step you take on land in years is to the sight of unrecognizable shores.

The world you find yourself in is a wasteland that finds you desperately missing your oasis at sea. Gods how you wish you'd found a way to stay there. It’s one thing to hear about it on the radio, to not hear about it for years in the silence of the radio waves. It’s something else entirely to see just how understated it all was.

You'd once thought the trappings of the mainland hell in a handbasket, the stillness of the unmoving earth unnerving. Now it’s unnerving for an entirely different reason and hell has long escaped the handbasket.

The west coast is obliterated and a minefield of undead to navigate, you make your way up the California coast. And it doesn’t take long to figure out that FEDRA is bad news. You take to the mountains, sticking to the old Pacific Crest Trail that your parents once told you stories of. You walk the same trails they once hiked, the journey under the stars and trees a novelty to hold tight to your chest. That odd bit of sentimentality follows you and the remaining crew  as you march along the mountain ridges, making camps of relative safety at old firewatch towers, changing locations periodically for a few years. You cross the border into Oregon eventually, and the forest and woods you’ve claimed safety in become more treacherous.

You’re fewer in number and several years at land when you hear of Jackson Town on an old radio you manage to tap into at one of those old firewatch towers. After an especially difficult winter, you all decide it’s time to take the risk of a settlement, and you plot the journey to Wyoming. But through an uncontrollable chain of events, you end up in Idaho Falls instead.

And gods, do you hate it here. Alexei’s reign is absolute, and rife with a cruelty and authoritarian obsession that turns your stomach. You’ve been here for a few years now, managing to earn yourself a position of minor importance with all the mechanical engineering knowledge you’ve picked up aboard the ship. Truck engines… boiler heaters… the water pump station -- it all seems like child’s play compared to the immense inner workings that allowed freight liners to cross oceans.

The tools and your minimal welding kit you’ve lugged across several states and over mountains have paid their weight in gold, because it’s bought you the value of your life and skills in a tyrant’s domain for several years now. You long for the sea, long to leave for greener pastures even if Jackson Town may not be it any more, and something tells you that opportunity lurks around the corner.

Unrest and whispers of a people that have had enough reach your ears, and though Alexei responds as he always does, there’s something different this time around. You’ve walked a careful line of indifference and subservience, playing up a preference for machines and engines instead of people or politics to provide a bubble of safety for you and your own--but that armor of neutrality may not be enough any more.

As terrifying an idea it may be to consider, it may be time to stop keeping your ear to the ground and act.

 Arcs

A close call; too close. He doesn’t know he’s immune, and the close calls that he’s had with the virus he unknowingly attributes to extraordinarily good luck. Would love to see him (or another) have that realization that something’s not quite right when he gets an injury and/or has an encounter that seemingly does nothing to him but cause a little bit of inconvenient pain.

Put it together, take it apart. He knows how to keep engines from blowing up and knows how to patch them together to keep the gears and motors spinning. Would love to see him use this mechanical knowledge to cause a bit of intentional chaos.

Some random little headcanons:

Can’t fucking stand Cheetoes or Cheerios. They’d had containers full of them and yes, they didn’t let a single one go to waste despite how sick of them they became. The mere thought of them makes Orion a little green.  

Even though he’s been on land for years now, sometimes he still gets bouts of land sickness and a somewhat related insomnia. The stillness of a mattress is unnerving, and if the weather is decent enough, he’ll lug a makeshift hammock up a few meters in a tree. It almost feels like home.

Has a necklace he keeps tucked under his shirt with a few old stripped bolts from the cargo ship he’d called home for much of his life.

Was narrowly almost named Polaris by astrology obsessed parents. He thanks whatever gods there might be that they decided on Orion instead.