glass&stone

quinn-dervilia​:

[[ ‘Dubious pleasure.’ He’s got that right, Quinn doesn’t have many friends. Hell, he’d be hard pressed to name even one here. (Clove is too complicated to simply be a friend.) He’s not planning to befriend young, angry infected survivors. Angry seems like too strong a word though. Simply pissed off.

The young man takes a seat, sits criss cross on the chair. Everything he says about makes it feel like he’s a father talking to a wayward teenager. An experience he was robbed of, an experience Althaea was robbed of. ]]

I could send you back to bed, but that won’t solve the problem of why you’re out and why you were heading for the exit at this hour. [[ Quinn comments simply. It’s not even an accusation: simply said like a man who understands that some nights, it’s difficult to sleep. Sometimes that leads to doing something stupid. ]]

Do you add sugar to these teas?

[[ Holding up the box of tea, Quinn starts reading the back of it. Faded and sun-bleached he can make out a brewing time but not much else. Quinn is aware how this could be taken: is it threatening? Is it eye opening? Eye-opening in the sense, look at him. He’s not a monster, just a man, nothing but a man who sometimes can’t sleep and knows fuck all about tea. ]]  Or milk? I’ve never been a tea drinker.

[Oh, small talk. Great. Kip would honestly rather take a telling off; if the Chancellor is gonna make him sit here, he could at least make it interesting.]

You’re meant to drink herbal teas plain. [He doesn’t roll his eyes, but somehow the hint of one is present in his inflection. He could expand, as he is often wont to do: talk about how honey is a pretty acceptable additive, and really if you’re drinking the tea you can do what you want to flavour it, but he doesn’t actually care, and he doesn’t think Quinn does either.] 

call-corbin​:

[Realistically, maybe beating someone up for Kip over politics or a disagreement in the labs is a bit of a stretch—Corbin really isn’t that dramatic, nor is he looking to start any drama; it’s never been his M.O, and he’s never had a taste for it. 

But were it to come down to more serious terms—protecting his friends when their lives or freedom are at risk? Yeah, he’d probably get caught sticking his neck out. Which is a fact he’s had to come to terms with, lately. Ever since that disagreement with Mouse. As it turns out, at some point between now and the End of the World—maybe between now and meeting Ethan, actually—Corbin had turned into the kind of person who wouldn’t immediately put himself first, in every single scenario. In some cases, he’d risk his reputation or his well being, for that of his friends, and it surprises him to think of how many he has of those, now. Oddly, there are far more people who mean a lot to him now, in the middle of this post-apocalyptic world, than there were before the Falling. Statistically, you’d think that wouldn’t be possible.

Then again, what does Corbin know about statistics. Or maths.

He chuckles at Kip’s theatrics about missing dinner, and nods—not sagely, but pretending to be.] Copy that, mate. I’ll see you at dinner then. And if I don’t, I’ll come looking for ya—fists ablazin’. [He smirks] Scout’s honour. 

alexander-donovan​:

[Surprisingly, Alex actually laughs at Kip’s last comment—maybe because he fumbles over it first, which somehow makes it funnier, or more surprising. Alex’s laugh is filtered by the subdued fog overhanging the evening, and it transitions into something more like a chuckle, but regardless, it’s real, and briefly earnest. He doesn’t even bother disguising his wince. Though it’s not like Kip has any disillusions about how crass he can be.

However, Alex sobers just in time to make it obvious that despite the banter, what he says next should be taken seriously.] Right. Well. In that case, don’t give me a reason to ‘go all heroic’ on you, and neither of us will have anything to worry about it.

[There’s a finality to his tone, however calm and almost playful he remains, and it’s the same one that is echoed every time he suspects there will be no more discussion over something. At least not tonight. In the future? God knows there will be, if the track record between the two of them is anything to go by. Caelan has proved himself nothing if not argumentative and wilful. But Alex wouldn’t have it any other way. Because he knows he can trust Kip to speak his mind, to stand up for himself, to define himself by his own thoughts and desires, not by Alex’s, despite the nature of their relationship. In fact, it’s the very reason their relationship works in the first place.

As punctuation to his implied subject change—because they can’t be out here forever, after all, and if they were to try to come to a complete agreement tonight, they’d be out here until well past breakfast tomorrow morning—he steps in and touches a hand to Caelan’s hip. It slips into the valley of his back and pulls him closer. And it’s a transition—a transition from a figure of authority to one of companionship. He’s no longer Donovan, the stoic and hard-ass ex-cop turned trainer; he’s just Alex. The imperceptibly broken and quietly lonely ex-cop, turned soft, for a boy fierce and stubborn and kind enough to see through a practiced and persistent exoskeleton.]

I suppose your roommates are probably waiting for your return… [And it would raise eyebrows, and questions, and suspicions, were he to not return at all. Shame, though.] 

What do you plan on telling them? 

[He’d not been expecting Alex to laugh -- Kip had been too busy cringing, frankly. He hates misspeaking -- he’s all for being crass when he’s doing it on purpose, but when it comes out by mistake he gets frustrated with himself. 

They could argue back and forth all night on Kip’s ability and willingness to toe the line. It’s certainly a conversation they’ve had before. It’s sort of implicit that they don’t need to get into it, because they both know the conclusion, because they’re both obstinate, so Kip just nods.] 

Sure. Seems fair. [He can’t really promise Alex he won’t give him a reason to go all heroic, but Alex knows that. He knows Kip can’t promise to be a well behaved golden boy, and Kip knows that he knows, and they’re both aware that he’s trying to be better and that counts for something.

There’s a lurch of anticipation, a warm thrill in Kip’s stomach, as Alex steps closer. Kip can feel the shift in his attitude as much as he can see it in the man’s eyes; and it’s such a fucking relief, because he’d really thought Alex was furious. Well, he had been pretty pissed. But his annoyance had probably been compounded by tiredness from his journey. It doesn’t feel like it’s actually the end of the world; Alex’s hand on his hip, wrapping around his back, confirms it. Kip melts into the touch, tilting forward. The flats of his palms seek out Alex’s familiar warmth, settling against his chest. It really, really makes Kip want to kiss him. It’s been a while since they saw each other, and Kip is needy at the best of times, and he’s just barely begun to reach up -- it’s an instinctive movement, not deliberate, just the slightest tilt of a head and a parting of lips -- when Alex asks a sensible question.

Ugh, lame. The travails of having a sensible and level-headed partner. Kip huffs a sigh, not at Alex but in thought at the question. He knows Alex had said to tell Corbin and Elly it was a basketball thing, but...] 

Honestly, probably the truth. Don’t think the basketball thing’s gonna fly, because I mean... I know you take life seriously, but it’s late and you just got back from a long trip. Nobody likes basketball that much. And an active lie feels different to lying by omission, anyway. It’s not like you’re my dirty little secret.

teiloembry​:

Dylan… [Meir, Meir… it sounds familiar, very familiar, and for a moment, hearing the name on Caelan’s lips gives him a bit of a Deja Vu.] Oh—the same girl we messaged about the horses? The one who volunteers with the stables? 

[Teilo hadn’t actually met her that day, but he’d been in touch with her, and from her messages, and Kip’s description of her, he’d not exactly anticipated Reformist views from her. Then again, they’d learned their lesson in stereotyping with Charlie, had they not?

With the next name, however, Kip’s tune seems to change. Dylan, who’d ‘compared infections to bombs’, apparently, still got a ‘cute’ qualifier from Kip, and an easy going shrug. But with Felix, there’s a tonal shift, and it’s noticeable. Quite noticeable, in fact. Which tracks; he’s a Delma, and Teilo might be newer to 22, but it didn’t take long to learn that reading a Delma is like flipping through a pop-up book. For all they might think they’re reserved, their expressions and non-verbal communication are clear as fucking day.] 

Felix? You mean the singer that threw the Delma party? [If so, then… yeah, Teilo can see the logic in Kip’s assessment. The narcissism, at least. Teilo hadn’t given much thought to his political views. It’d hardly even occurred to Teilo that the blond would have any.]

Oh, yeah -- horse girl. [Kip nods. He’d almost forgotten about that. Teilo sounds surprised, and admittedly Kip had been too. Especially since Dylan is Infected. But obviously anyone can support the Reformists; Kip just tends to associate them with having cold, icy personalities because that’s the type they’ve chosen to put in positions of power.] 

anayadolmen​:

[Kip’s words may not seem like much to go by, from anyone else’s point of view, but to Anaya they make an important impact. They bring her hope. She doesn’t have it in her to start anything on her own, she would never be the face or the voice of anything revolutionary, she knows she doesn’t have that sort of bravery in her. But she wants to help, she needs to. It’s the scientist in her, she thinks, to back up the change she wants to see in the world – a backstage helping hand. If before she laid down ground work with her academics, now she can offer them a place, maybe.]

Yeah– of course… Still. Thank you. [She means it, wholeheartedly, and she hopes he knows it. She couldn’t put her gratitude into words if she tried, so she hopes her nod is enough to convey before she’s averting her eyes again and allowing him the privacy and the silence.]

bear-little-loss​:

[It’s not because he doesn’t trust Kip, that Orson doesn’t want to get into it. It’s nothing like that at all, actually. Kip is one of the few people Orson really does trust around here, and one of the even fewer he’s quite thoroughly honest with. 

It’s just that not only is the subject of the raid a depressing one, but what had happened to Orson, with the vision, with the blood on his face, the way he froze like a deer in the headlights, waiting for the car to come, waiting to be trampled or worse, too stunned and terrorized by his own mind to save himself—it’s all of that he doesn’t especially want to get into. That’s depressing in a whole other can of worms sort of way, and it doesn’t help that reminding Kip that Orson has visions of Death and so he can’t touch people because he’s like a broken, nightmarish sci-fi toy… yeah, he’d just rather avoid it. 

Of course, the whole reason he’d asked Kip up here in the first place, is to talk about his Delusion, isn’t it? His dilemma with Annie and whether or not he should test his theory—a theory that’s been built on exactly one other person. Well, two, actually.

It’s really not a very good theory. Should he abandon all this before he even begins? 

But he thinks of the hopeful look on Mitch’s face in his office that day and Orson sighs.

He smiles weakly at Kip’s nudge, and his hesitant attempt at a(nother) lighthearted quip.] I’m sure he’d love that… [he drawls back, somewhat half hearted.] 

Um. Anyway. Remind me to… tell you about the raid thing another time maybe… when I don’t have other depressing things to talk to you about. Because I know this is the apocalypse, but there’s only so much depressing a bloke can take, you know? 

[Kip doesn’t mind the depressing topics, honestly. Not with Orson. In a way it’s sort of nice to be morbid without worrying about whether you’re being too depressing. Life has been... not even a mixed bag lately. It’s just been awful. With Orson, it’s easier to acknowledge that. Kip can just be himself around him.

There are still fleeting, awkward moments. They’re not really decreasing. But they are feeling more natural, like they’re reaching a point where they’ve just accepted that things will always be a little bit weird between the two of them.]

I mean yeah, but to be fair, it’s not like there’s an abundance of non-depressing topics available to us. Like, the job market? Non-existent. Universities? Gone. Politics? Somehow worse than first-past-the-post two party systems. But hey, sometimes you can see the milky way thanks to decreased light pollution, so I guess we’ve got that going for us.

quinn-dervilia​:

[[ No-one who’s a Security Class 3 likes him, he doesn’t expect anything different from the young man. Although he’s truly showing his youthfulness deciding that cooties is the best thing to say. Quinn laughs at it, at him, really, but it’s a quiet warm chuckle. ]] Cooties? What are you, fifteen?

It’s not how infections spread, Mr. Whitmer. [[ He says as he’s looking through the cupboards, not at the young man. ]]  There’s some herbal tea in here that’s nice, no caffeine. It could only be improved by some honey.

[[ Quinn isn’t going to flinch at the petulant, teenage-esque attitude of someone he caught in the middle of sneaking out. It’d be a fucking difficult job as Chancellor if the smallest bits of insubordination got to him. It does add up, though, some days it does get to Quinn. Filling up the kettle, he looks over at Caelan. Still a quaint part of life in England, he thinks, in comparison to the stove top kettles he’s used too, the one thing the Brits rush is getting closer to their next cup of tea. ]] Take a seat.

Pretty much. [Kip hates people thinking he’s younger than he is, but he’s sort of given up fighting it. And, yeah, cooties wasn’t the most sophisticated comment he could have gone for. He was trying to make the point that Quinn is the childish one, him and his NWRF cronies, with their childish, hateful attitudes towards Infections. But he doesn’t play the game so it’s not fun.

Like, it should be reassuring that he acknowledges Infections not being contagious. It’s not, though. It’s just sort of infuriating how calm he is, talking about tea and honey and inviting -- telling -- Kip to take a seat.

It doesn’t feel like an optional suggestion, which makes Kip not want to do it, but he’s also got no reason not to do it. Not without sounding extremely petulant. Doesn’t mean he’s going to pretend like this is super nice, though, even if the Chancellor appears to be making him a cup of tea.

Kip wouldn’t put it past him to poison it. Sitting heavily, Kip draws his knees up and balances cross legged on the chair, watching the chancellor closely.] 

Why? You could just send me back to bed, which would definitely save you from the dubious pleasure of my company. [He’d respect Quinn more if he was honest, and if he didn’t act like Kip was a pleasant acquaintance that he’d like to have tea with.

alexander-donovan​:

[When he’d woken up in the morning, the sky had looked ready to rain. Thankfully, it’d held off, but there was a strange sort of energy in the air that felt like the deferral would only last so long, like a storm was coming and there was an electric current tingling skin and raising fine hairs in their pores like invisible, static fingers. 

He’d noticed Kip’s absence from the funeral, in part because he’d looked for him, and in other part because he’d remembered, when he’d heard the news, what Kip had said about Kaiser that fateful day in his office, of all places. This would be a hard time for any Empaths at Colony 22, but for someone who also knew Bahr personally? Understandably worse. Plus, Kip has a… especially sensitive trauma with funerals, even against the backdrop of the End of the World. 

So in a way, he’s relieved to see the boy’s small frame making his way across the grounds in a reluctantly hasty stride, at first, hidden under his hood and moving as though if he gave himself a chance to think about it, he’d change his mind. But by the time Alex turns his head back to the reverend, he sees Kip from the corner of his eye, slowing and then—yes, turning around.

Alex watches him a moment, before looking to the ground. His weight shifts on his feet. He can’t leave now, it wouldn’t be appropriate, being that he’s here to attend the funeral, whether he knew Mr. Bahr personally or not. Besides, he doubts Caelan would want attention drawn to himself right now. But it’s difficult to simply ignore the struggle Kip is having at the moment. So after a few moments of trying to figure out the best approach, he carefully projects a few thoughts, silently reaching for Caelan across the grounds. ]

[ ‘Easy. Go easy on yourself.’ He looks over. It’s too far to really see, but he thinks he can detect the way Kip reacts to Alex’s voice in his head, maybe shoots a look over his shoulder. ‘Admirable for you to try. But he’d understand, you know.’ Speaking of Kaiser, obviously. And though he didn’t know the man, he doesn’t doubt it’s true—he’d stood for the plight of the Infected, the powers they had and the crosses they’d bore, both. He’d have understood. After all, Boyd isn’t here, either. 

‘Try out back, if you want. The bleachers. I’ll come by after.’ Rest, he thinks. Just rest. And wait. And he hopes Kip will take his advice.] 

[He almost jumps out of his skin at the voice in his head. He hadn’t realised Alex had seen him. Usually Kip is acutely aware of Alex’s presence, even in a crowd. The better he gets to know a person, the more easily he can pick out their emotional presence in a room, and although Alex’s is more understated than most, it’s always had a unique sort of intensity. Like rushing water deep in a cavern, felt through the soles of your feet more than actually heard.

But on this particular day, it all just gets drowned in the crowd. A telepath talking to you when you’re not expecting it is rather like the jumpscare in a horror movie when the hero closes a cupboard door and the killer is standing right there, but obviously less traumatic. It’s nice, actually; Kip finds he kind of likes the intimacy of talking to telepaths, although it’s not as comfortable if he doesn’t know them well. Suffice it to say he’s extremely comfortable with Alex, though, and his presence in Kip’s mind is a small comfort.

He’s glad Alex didn’t follow him. That’d be embarrassing. Kip exhales slowly through his nose, nausea fading as he gets further from the crowd, and he wishes this was a less one sided conversation. Not that he’s sure what he’d actually say, but it’d be nice to at least give a nod of acknowledgement. Feels a bit rude just walking off, but walk off he does.

And he does take Alex’s advice. He’s kind of sick of the sight of his dorm by this point, so it’ll be nice to get some fresh air while everyone else is elsewhere. Ugh... fresh air. He sounds like his mother trying to tempt him outside after he’s spent the entirety of a blazing hot summer day sitting cross-legged at his desk playing WoW.

He finds himself almost dozing off on the bleachers, until it starts to rain. And then he scowls up at the sky, debates going inside. It just seems like a lot of energy, so he ends up sitting through it. It’s not especially cold or anything. There’s worse things than getting rained on, and it’s not like he’d spent ages coiffing his hair this morning. He keeps sighing, and then catching himself sighing and tugging on the small silver loop in his ear till it pinches just to distract himself, and then he sighs again. When Alex arrives, Kip can feel him this time; he knows it’s Alex before he can hear the even stride of his step, though Kip doesn’t turn till he’s in earshot.] 

You know, Alex, people don’t usually have catchphrases outside of cartoons. [Even if the man’s voice wasn’t so engrained in Kip’s consciousness he’d have known it was Alex just from the first two syllables. Easy. Though the frequency with which he says it might have something to do with Kip’s habit of overdoing things rather than Alex’s natural tendency to say it.

anayadolmen​:

[Anaya can tell he sounds annoyed when he speaks again, but the curse (or the blessing) of not being an Empath is never knowing if she’s right. She’s been wrong before, trying to pick up these emotional cues from people, ever since she’s been stuck in space. It’s like her settings have all been set to Constantin as a default, so anyone who doesn’t act like him is immediately impossible to read.

So she tries not to focus on it too much, in favour of hearing what the boy has to say. And she’s glad because when the rest of his words finally come out, she feels like a bit of a fool for not getting that sooner. Well, she can’t be too heavily blamed for keeping her guards up so high. She always feels like people are too quick to belittle her in this new world.]

Oh. Oh. [She’s quick to respond, her tone already apologetic. Although her cheeks heat up, she doesn’t dwell on the feeling too much, shaking it off and hoping Kip also benefits from her best attempt to not drown him in another wave of embarrassment.] Right. Yes, thank you, I will. [That sparks some hope in her. She doesn’t know what Teilo could be up to, but he’s a smart bloke, and maybe she can finally find a way to do more, like she’s been trying to, all these months. Maybe this is the door she’s been asking for, to feel a little less useless in all of this chaos.] Thank you, Kip. Really. 

.

[Okay, she gets it. Thank fuck. Kip doesn’t really have the energy to get involved beyond this. He knows he should be angry about Kaiser’s death; it seems like everyone is. But he just can’t, not right now, because he’s worn out.]

rev-enoch-lynch​:

[[ ‘You’ve got great vibes. Like a capybara.’ Enoch laughs quietly at that, a small huff of breath sending a sharper breath of cigarette smoke into the cool evening air.

Even sitting in the quiet with his cigarette has a singular focus: take his time, decompress.  The request to stay isn’t all that surprising, he has spent many hours simply sat at someone’s side. Either as they grieved or refused to speak in therapy. As moral support, as a friend, as a brother.

Enoch’s used to having that sort of comfort given to him in church, no-one else around but Enoch felt that quiet steady presence. He thinks that could be a good way to explain it, maybe. What faith feels like. Like someone sat by his side, silent. ]]

Of course I have time.  [[ He smiles at the young man. Can still catch the red rimmed eyes in too much detail, the sharp highlights of tears in the dim light. The young man’s attempts to keep things light, despite the crack in his voice, has Enoch taking a similar tact. His voice doesn’t waver, he only hopes the boy sees it as a kindness that he doesn’t try to soothe. Not everyone needs a gentle touch. ]] If I look busy, I can actually enjoy this cigarette in peace. 

[[ Enoch tips his head to the side, looking at the grave, wondering exactly how the young man knew the dead man. ]] Capybaras are those big sorta guinea pig things, right? [[ Enoch can’t say he knows much beyond that. Collecting random tidbits wasn’t really his style, everything Enoch did had some sort of focus. ]]

[Sometimes Kip wants to get annoyed at people that are so calm, so damn nice. Enoch’s ‘of course’ is reminiscent of something Mitch would say too, and it’s a sort of kindness Kip struggles with. It’s too paternal, and it just stings knowing he’ll never get to hear his actual dad say stuff like that again. He’s not got the energy to be difficult about it today, and in any case it is nice. Just in a bittersweet way.

Kip would look up to acknowledge the response, but he’s busy staring at the grave. He just can’t stop looking at it. Death never stops being a frighteningly vast and unexplainable thing. Kip does believe in something after death, on the basis that energy can’t be destroyed or created, only changed, and life is some sort of energy, but he can’t begin to guess what.

He manages a small smile (at least, the corners of his mouth tip up) at the cigarette comment. Must’ve been a long day for Enoch. It almost makes Kip feel bad for coming, but really if Enoch wanted to be left in peace he perhaps shouldn’t have come to a grave on the same day as the funeral.] 

Yeah. [Unlike Enoch, Kip collects random tidbits constantly. He reads a lot and has a good memory, so he can often dredge up entirely unhelpful facts. In his short time interning in London, he’d been a real asset to the pub quiz team.] Largest rodent in the world. Potentially. I guess they could be extinct now. They were native to South America which I hear got pretty badly fucked on D-Day.

call-corbin​:

[ ‘Antithetical’ is not a word Corbin knows, but he can guess based on context. But it doesn’t matter either way, because he’s not about to get into a linguistics argument with Kip—Corbin is the boy who dropped out of school and ran away into sex work, and Kip is the boy who skipped like a bajillion grades and ran away to university at like 16 or something ridiculous. Corbin also just doesn’t really care about being right about stuff. That’s not really his ‘schtick’.

The dig at Boyd earns a smirk from Corbin, and Kip’s predictable and petty arguing has him rolling his eyes fondly, though the bit about being taken out by toxic substances stings a little—of course, he hides it well, schools his expression—but he’s very aware of how easily toxic substances can kill you. Still… none of that is really relevant when Kip is just making a stupid joke about actual poison. Corbin looks down, grin still crooked and calm, but he rubs at his nose and shifts gear.] Alright, alright, you win. I’ll beat up the nerdy Reformist for you—but don’t say I never done nothin’ for you, yeah? 

[He smirks, leisurely moving away from the bed.] You gonna make it down fer supper you reckon or should I save somethin’ for you?

[Oh, whoops. Kip forgets sometimes that Corbin can be a lot more sensitive than he lets on. It doesn’t show in his face, but Kip’s comment about substances sends a twinge through him that they both feel. He really does consider apologising, but he can say with certainty that Corbin wouldn’t want that. It’s probably the worst thing about being around Empaths: you don’t get to hide how you feel. The only small mercy Kip can offer is pretending he didn’t notice, so instead he just flutters his eyelashes at Corbin’s agreement to beat up a Reformist for him.] 

My hero. [He knows (hopes) Corbin won’t actually do it, but it’s fun to think about. 

Kip balks at the question of dinner, horrified by the notion that he might be stuck here that long.] Absolutely fucking not. I’ll be at dinner, and that is a threat. If they don’t discharge me in the next like, hour, I’m gonna riot. In fact, if you don’t see me at dinner, then skip beating up Reformists on my behalf and come help me stage a breakout.

alexander-donovan​:

[Alex turns a quiet smile towards the window. It’s shadowed by the dim lighting of the chapel, and it lives only briefly on his lips, but there’s no argument that it’s there, even if he reserves it mostly for the chipping walls of brick and mortar. 

He’s a smart kid, Caelan—it comes as no surprise, of course, but God, if he weren’t already so forthright about this fondness they’d just discussed, he’d be found out by now, he’s sure. Probably a long time ago. After all, though he tends to operate as if it doesn’t matter because it’s not something he can control: there’s not much use hiding his true feelings from an Empath. Caelan will always know—and if Alex were to lie, there would be no sparing Kip from anything, because Kip would know, and would feel betrayed, and rightly so. 

Alex sighs. Looks down. His feet provide no real comfort for tackling the subject. Not like he expected otherwise.] I appreciate the concern. [It doesn’t answer Kip’s question. Had he ever spoken to a therapist? Of course not. Not about this, at least. And even then they’d only been department appointed psychiatrists in the aftermath of traumatic incidents. The real and true CISM. In fact, the implication of the CISM team here at Colony 22 had been Alex’s idea.] 

And knowing your mature outlook on therapy. Really, I do. But I’m… I’m through it, now. [Is it true? That he’s ‘over’ it? That he’s worked out his guilt and regret regarding his mother? Well, yes and no. The tattoo had been a symbol of his forgiveness: of his letting go. And if she could see him or sense him anywhere out there in the cosmos, she would know he’d given her the forgiveness she’d always wanted. And in most ways, he’d always understood her; at least, where her choices had been coming from. He’d just not been able to get over the deceit. The fact that he’d grown up believing in a fairy tale that she knew would never last. 

But he’d never really admitted that to himself, and more importantly, he’d never told that to her. Now, he’s forgiven her. Yes. He’d forgiven her a long time ago, made his peace with what happened. But now there was the issue of forgiving himself. For not having been man enough to do it right when she was alive. He will never be able to take that back. And sometimes it’s not as easy as he’d like, to convince himself that she knows how he feels now. That she knows his regret, his compassion.

But tonight isn’t about him. And Kip sneakily had made it so. Or tried to. He takes a breath, turns back towards him and steps closer.] Listen to me. [He levels him with a look, unblinking.] I recognize that this is not easy. And that you are young and just trying to enjoy this second chance at life we’ve been given. I don’t want you to think I don’t hear you. I do. But I also want you to be reasonable, and you must know by now that I’m invested in protecting you—and don’t argue with me, we’ve tired out that conversation by now, [a tiny flicker of a knowing grin, before he sobers again.] So if something like this comes up in the future, I want you to talk to me about it. Think it through, first of all—be smart about it—and talk to me. I know this entire Colony thinks I have a stick up my ass, which, alright, fair, I give them reason enough. But I’m not against you fudging a few mandate rules here and there. I’m against you being stupid about it and if you are going to do something risky, it would make me feel a lot better if I knew about it.

[A pause.] At least then you have someone who can fucking cover for you if and when you do something stupid. 

[Alex smiles, Kip suppresses the urge to mirror the expression, because he was being serious. He knows Alex doesn’t think he was joking, that the smile is for another reason, but still. Kip had meant it, and he doesn’t find Alex’s statement that he’s ‘through it now’ to be particularly believable. On the outside, Alex is one of the most well-adjusted people here, but there’s so much going on under the surface.

It’s not easy, Kip knows. He goes to therapy these days largely because it keeps Cambie happy, but he’d gone to therapy before D-Day too. His parents signed him up after he started getting into fights at school, because they couldn’t figure out what was wrong with him. Nobody ever did figure it out to the tune of a diagnosis, but Kip enjoyed having an hour in which he could rant and talk about himself. And it probably did him a world of good, in the end: he’s not been in a fight for months, and his impulse control is improving.

Tonight is probably not a great example of that, though. Which is why Kip allows Alex to turn the conversation away from himself. They have, as Alex notes, had this conversation to death -- Alex’s desire to protect Kip, Kip’s obstinate determination to do things on his own. It’s probably not something they’ll ever see eye to eye on, but perhaps they’ll eventually find some middle ground. It’s just that they’re both so wilful, even if they go about it in very different ways.] 

You know I don’t want you to do that. Maybe before the NWRF it’d be different, but right now if you go all heroic on me I think you’ll get more than a slap on the wrist. Don’t really want that on my conscience, honestly. Much as I fucking hate to drag politics into it, they make it all political, they make our existence political, so... I don’t know. I think it’s good someone’s got a stick up their ass, and I don’t want you, er, removing it for me.

quinn-dervilia​:

[[ Quinn doesn’t sleep well. He never really did—unless he’d tuckered himself out with a fun day out with Ceres and Althaea. Family vacations, he slept like a rock. Walking for hours, Althaea usually on his shoulders and Ceres sprinting around, excited as always. It only makes him feel cold, such a warm, pleasant memory whilst stuck on this gray rock. A warm drink would help, he thinks. Taking his own mug he heads out to the Delma kitchen. This at least feels familiar, wandering around alone in the early hours of the morning. It almost feels like peace.

Opening the door to leave the Elite suites: he’s not so alone after all. ]]

Evening. [[ A pause. ]] Or morning, depends where you draw the line. [[ Caelan Whitmer. Security Class 3, if he recalls correctly. Definitely not the sort who should be trying to sneak out at this time even though he looks relatively harmless. Like a prey animal caught in the headlights.

There’s a sudden, hysterical image of him darting off like a startled rabbit to only bump into a wall. Quinn keeps moving towards the small kitchen, and waves a hand for the young Caelan to follow. ]] Can’t sleep either? [[ They both know, but he’ll pretend. ]] Join me for a drink. [[ He holds up the mug, waggles it side to side to indicate exactly what sort of drink he means. ]]

[URGH! Urgh. Eurgh. Bleh. The absolute fuckery of it... of all the people that could’ve come down those stairs. It could’ve been Percy, even. But no: the man, the myth, the bastard himself. Though Kip will admit it’s actually somewhat less awful encountering him one-on-one than in a group setting. Here it’s only his own personal feelings he has to deal with. Usually a miasma of anger, fear, and ill-will follow Quinn like a bad smell.

There’s none of that now, though. Kip is surprised to find a weird sort of serenity. You’d expect the Chancellor to be seething with hatred, but actually -- much as Kip loathes the thought -- if he had to compare the man’s feel to anyone, it’d be Alex. It’s a similar steadiness, with something strong but unidentifiable running deep in the undercurrent. Kip doesn’t like it on Quinn, though; or maybe he just doesn’t like Quinn.

He’d have more respect for the guy if he just called Kip out for the fact he’d clearly been sneaking out, rather than fake-politely asking if he couldn’t sleep. Kip meets his gaze levelly, mouth curving into more of a frown at the request to join him for a drink. No, it’s not a request: it’s a command. And Kip really doesn’t like that.] 

teiloembry​:

[Teilo can’t help but laugh at the ‘dumb as hell’ comment. It’s not that he condones belittling people of… differing intellect, but that’d sort of been his experience with Charlie as well. He’d been unexpectedly warm, and charming. A pleasant conversationalist, if not a terribly inspiring one. He’s someone Teilo would likely enjoy speaking with again, but as a political figure? Hardly the right choice.

Fortunately, he’s on friendly terms with more than one Reformist. Which is perhaps a bit ironic, given the reason Teilo left for this Colony at all, but what is life without a little irony? Of course, Clove probably wouldn’t be the right choice for this particular situation, either. They may need  Reformist, but The Chancellor’s right had man? Probably not lucrative. At least not at this point.] 

Yeah, I don’t think Charlie is our guy. Though I’ll admit he did surprise me, a little bit. Well—in terms of what I’d usually expect from a Reformist. [Because almost everything else about the man had struck Teilo something of a cliché. In an endearing way, of course, no ill will meant. Teilo would just say he has something of a knack for reading people.] 

In any case, I do have someone in mind. I haven’t asked them explicitly because I’m a bit worried it might damage an already precarious situation they’re in currently—but at the very least I have a good contact. Though I have thought—do you know, are there any non-elite Reformists here? Because a part of me wondered if that might be a safer option.

[Yeah, Kip will agree on that point -- Charlie is surprising compared to the other Reformists. He can’t claim to have talked to the guy properly, but the big goofy grin is already enough to set him apart. It probably shouldn’t be surprising though, because it makes sense the Reformists would want someone outwardly charming on side. Makes it easier to manipulate people.

Being nosey, he really wants to know more about the someone in a precarious situation that Teilo mentions, but given how diplomatic the guy is there seems little point in asking. It’s interesting though, because it suggests Teilo is in good with at least one Reformist, and he’s pretty sure it also suggests some sort of internal political strife among them. If there’s a Reformist in a precarious situation that could be damaged by reaching out to the NAR, it sounds like there might be some doubters; some infighting. Very interesting.] 

Uh-- [Oh fuck. Don’t answer Teilo’s question with the fact that the first non-Elite Reformist to spring to mind is a self-centred pretty boy with the most punchable face in the whole Colony.] Dylan Meir, in Torren. Pretty vocal supporter of a cure. Compared Infections to bombs, though she did manage to sound pretty cute about it. And Felix Turner, but he’s a narcissist; he’d probably manage to make the whole thing about him.