Just Another Screw Up.

dylan-meir​:

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.

☀

[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.] 

bodelevy-lindqvist​:

[He wondered if at any point he would grow accustom to the way the English spoke. He figured he wouldn’t but maybe with enough time that could all change. Bode didn’t enjoy the idea very much.] I wouldn’t know, I don’t share my suite.

[He looked at the young man and decided to throw him a bone.] But I can see how it could be..distracting. You get used to certain parts of your life and when it’s gone it becomes difficult to grow accustom to it. I grew used to falling asleep to my brother’s snoring and now that we don’t share a room I find it difficult to sleep at all.

[‘Lake’ that’s an interesting name. Definitely memorable. Bode leans down to fiddle with the laces of his boot.] Bode. Bode Lindqvist. [When he sits back up he looks at the boy, curiosity gleaming in his eye.] It’s nice to meet you, Lake, despite the circumstances.

.

[Ah, right. The ‘Elite suites’ thing. Lucky jerks. Even though he knows it’s like not really possible for EVERYONE to have their own room around here, (like, it’s not like they can change the way the school is structured, after all, and seriously where would they put everyone?) it’s still a huge bummer to not have any privacy, like. Ever. Especially as like.... young.... hormonal.... humans. 

He clears his throat. Nods.] Right, yeah, I... I can imagine. [He can’t, really. He’s never had a sibling or specifically missed falling asleep to the sound of someone breathing... but who knows, after all this time of sleeping in shared dorms, maybe he WOULD have a hard time sleeping alone, if he tried. In a big empty room, with no sounds of other people moving or dreaming or snoring or sleeping. Huh.] 

annie-perrault​:

I didn’t mean it in like, a mean way! [Annie covers her face; she hadn’t meant to be savage. It was just that for her taste, those guys weren’t the epitome of attractiveness even if they’re still totally hot. She’s a bit worried Lake’s going to think she’s nasty or judgemental now, but he’s so light hearted that it’s not weighing on her like it might otherwise.

And she is, as ever, ready to die on the hill of men wearing crop tops.] 

No way, Robert Hiltzik did not put all of these big hairy men in little crop tops and denim shorts in Sleepaway Camp just for skinny twinks to totally monopolise the fashion. Crop tops are for everyone.

[It’s… kind of nice hearing Lake talk about his body image issues. Not nice, because obviously it’s sad he feels like he’s less hunky than the other guys here. But it’s good that he feels comfortable talking about it, because a lot of the time guys are totally unwilling to talk about these things even though it’s healthy to let it out. And Annie can definitely relate to Lake comparing himself to other guys and feeling less attractive. She does the same thing, always comparing herself to the girls around her and wishing she had bigger boobs or more eyelid space or whatever.] 

Well, would piercings make you feel better about yourself? Because if so, you should totally get piercings. If you hate it you can just take it out, y’know? The only way to figure out how you want to present yourself is to experiment. If you get on with the people in your dorm maybe you could even ask to try on some of their clothes.

[They’re always swapping clothes in Annie’s dorm, for stuff that fits more flexibly anyway. Like Annie couldn’t borrow a miniskirt from any of them because her legs are longer and it’d be too revealing, and Lissy couldn’t borrow a fitted tshirt from Annie because her boobs would stretch it out. But sweaters and stuff? Totally fair game.]

[Annie says ‘crop tops are for everyone’ like she’s making a presidential campaign, and honestly, it brings Lake SO much joy. She’s just so passionate about it, and she states it like FACT. Capital F-A-C-T. Like there is absolutely no debate and God, he’s beginning to believe she’s right, purely because she says it wish such confidence.

And anyway, it’s a nice thought. That things like that could be empowering for everyone, no matter your body.

Would piercings make him feel better about himself? He has to think about that. Would they? He’s not sure. He thinks that.... in some ways it’d probably be stupid to have THAT be a reason to like, make or break his confidence. But at the same time, he LOVES Ryder’s piercings, and would be feel like, ‘totally banging’ with a lip ring too? Or eyebrow ring? Yeah, actually... maybe he would. He’s not convinced it would SUIT him, but... the idea does sort of make his heart flutter a little with excitement. Maybe Annie has a point.

But the real question is, does she have a place he can get a facial piercing without getting a frigging infection, EL-OH-EL. Because there’s no professional Parlors in the apocalypse. There’s also no Claire’s, though they probably didn’t do piercings not in your ears.]

books-xnd-cleverness​:

[The voice on the other side of the door doesn’t sound in any way convincing. It sounds taken off-guard, and desperate, and a little broken. To be expected, if Jo’s being frank. Not everyone has been affected by Kaiser’s death, but those that are seem to be hit doubly hard to make up for those that aren’t. This is undeniably a case of the latter.]

[Of course, that leaves Jo to to pick up all the pieces. She wishes, not for the first time, that she’d been told about Kaiser’s death sooner. She’s an Elite for god’s sake– even if only in name most of the time. She has responsibilities to her students, and to the other people in her house to a lesser extent. If she’d just been given time to prepare, to come up with anything useful to say… but she wasn’t, so she has to play the hand she’s been dealt.]

I hope you don’t take offense if I say I don’t believe you. But it’s okay. Everything…isn’t fine. We’re…well. We’re here, and someone’s died, and it’s okay that it’s not fine. It’s also okay if you don’t want to talk about it, but you don’t have to pretend either.

✑

[ ‘It’s okay that it’s not fine’.

It seems like.. such an obvious thing. But it helps to hear, so much. Because as simple as obvious as it SHOULD be, it doesn’t FEEL simple in this moment. It feels like it’s so easy to forget that it’s okay to not be okay. It’s okay to feel this and to be affected by it. Even if he didn’t know Kaiser, it’s still... death. It’s still big and scary and he DOES have a connection to Kaiser: his telekinesis. Is this some sort of sign? Could he end up like Kaiser? Dead in a chair because his brain couldn’t handle his Infection any longer? After all, he wasn’t born this way... maybe his brain was never meant to withstand that kind of... activity.

Maybe none of theirs were.

He sniffs, breathing deep before he answers. When he does, his voice sounds hollow and strange, the way it echoes off the bathroom walls, and bounces back at him from the stall door.] I mean... yeah. You’re right. I’m not, uh. [A forced, half-life.] Not doing so good.

dylan-meir​:

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

☀

[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. 

bodelevy-lindqvist​:

[Bode watches the stranger scramble to remove the hood from around his face, it reminded him of a crab scurrying out of some sea-soaked cave. It was an interesting sight to behold, that was for certain.] No, it’s fine. This chapel doesn’t belong to me. [If it did belong to him there was a good chance Bode would have taken it down to the studs by now. It was a pleasant thought although in reality it did very little to ease his guilty conscience.] It’s a bit late for a change of scenery though, isn’t it?

[He motions for the boy to take a seat on one of the empty pews, his arms feel a bit heavy as he does it. Has he ever invited anyone to make themselves comfortable in a church? No, he doesn’t think he has.] 

Can’t sleep? 

[He has a very... straight way of speaking. Oh, uh—not like straight as in straight, as in heterosexual (how do heterosexuals talk, anyway?), just like, straight as in... deep. Even. 

Stoic. Yes, there’s a voice in his head that sounds a lot like Mouse, telling him the word he’s looking for is ‘stoic’. Lake can even almost hear the grin. He even almost grins back. 

Instead, though, he chews the corner of his lip, because he doesn’t want to be that weirdo that just randomly smiles at nothing. He clears his throat, frowning, to keep himself focused on what the guy is saying. He’s gesturing for Lake to sit. Which is weirdly a relief for Lake, because somehow he feels like he’s less likely to do something stupid, if he’s sitting and doesn’t have to worry about what his legs are doing at any given moment. 

No promises about his mouth though.] 

Yeah, uh.. something like that. Just uh—I guess it’s weird, with sleeping in the same room as so many people, you know? I mean, I’ve been here forever, you think I’d be used to it by now, and I usually am, I guess, but sometimes.... [Sometimes what? He’s not making a lot of sense, but that’s not unusual.] Sometimes it’s just distracting.

annie-perrault​:

[She’s sort of delighted by his dramatic awe at her answer. Like, obviously he’s laying it on thick but it’s not in a sarcastic way, it’s in a nice, friendly way, that Annie doesn’t know how to process. It still catches her off guard, sometimes, when people are actually excited to hear things she has to say. She gets so self conscious sometimes, which it seems like Lake doesn’t because he’s being totally goofy; it’s impressive, and it’s also nice to be around. There’s something very positive about his presence, like because he’s so not self conscious about things, it’s easier for Annie to be not self conscious too.] 

Shut up! [Alright, easier but still not always possible. She has no idea how to respond to the flattery. Her instinct is to tell him another fun, weird fact she knows but she’s got about enough social experience by now to conclude that’s probably not right. So, yeah, ‘shut up’ will have to do for now.] 

Would you really want to look like Donovan or JR? They’re like, kind of boring. Not, like, um, they’re boring! I mean in terms of their looks, like, they’re just a bit, um. You know. I could just go watch any big action movie and see guys like that. But you know, if you want to get objectified more you could dress different? Like I’m sure JR knows people can see his piercings through his shirts, he dresses like that for a reason. Like you could cut your tshirts into crop tops or something.

[It’s the same reason Annie wears a lot of mini-skirts, actually. She finds it very validating that the skirts make people look at her and think she’s got long, feminine legs.]

[He laughs, jaw dropping, but eyes full of amusement. JR and Donovan BORING? HAH—Annie is a total savage.] Woahhh, savage. [Because he says what he thinks, obviously. The Lake Valentine Trademark. He’s kidding though, and he hopes the fact that he’s smiling and laughing will keep her from taking it to heart. It’s just FUNNY, hearing Annie dis big ol’ ‘hunks’ like JR and Alex. If he’s being honest, he sort of thought that’s what all girls their age wanted. Which he knows is technically stupid and narrow minded but like... it’s where a lot of his insecurities came from. Seeing all the hunky built guys on the dumb TV shows on the streaming networks, and how crazy girls went over them (back in school before D-Day, but still....)

He’s in total shock when she talks about cutting his shirts. Into CROP TOPS, no less.] Uh... [He’s confused, but he bursts out laughing again, covering his face for a second.] Oh, God. Uh, not that there’s anything wrong with guys in crop tops, obviously. Like, that Felix guy wheres them all the time, and he looks like, SO hot, let’s be real. But I don’t think I could pull that off either. I’m not like, a super model pixie-twink like him, either. 

[He sighs.] I don’t know. I’m just sort of, not the hunk guy and not the twink guy. I’m just kinda... the clumsy weirdo. Which is fine, I guess, but. If Donovan and JR are boring, I wouldn’t mind being boring, I guess. Boring seems like... less maintenance. And universal. Everyone seems to think they’re hot. [Even him. Though he HAD been super mega turned on by Ryder, too, and he’s just about as... not ‘boring’ as you can get. And Mouse is.... Mouse. Definitely not ‘boring’, anyway. But he doesn’t think he has a type, yet.] 

[He looks down at himself a second, tries to look at his arms and flex a little without, like, really OBVIOUSLY flexing, because he’s very aware Annie is watching him and he doesn’t want to look like he’s being vain or showing off—or worse, like he’s trying to flex but if it turns out he has no muscles to flex and winds up looking like an even more pathetic shrimp. He has to be on the safe, subtle side.] 

books-xnd-cleverness​:

[Of course Kaiser’s death was a catastrophe. Given what she knew of the man, Jo was sure he wouldn’t have had it any other way. Granted, if he’d been allowed to chose, he might’ve taken a few people down with him, but as it was the colony was in complete chaos. Jo’s students were confused or frightened or both; some thought it had something to do with Kaiser’s Infection while others were certain the NWRF were behind it. Some just didn’t care at all. One particularly indifferent girl informed Jo that her parents said it was all for the better that Kaiser was dead, and that if the Elites had any sense they would’ve done it sooner. Jo didn’t have an answer to that, except to tell her not to say that to anyone else.]

[The rest of the colony didn’t seem to be taking it much better. The chatter in the mess hall and common rooms was hushed, punctuated with nervous glances. Jo herself had gone through three cigarettes the day she heard the news, and another two today during lunch. She just didn’t know what else to do. In the grand scheme of things, she had no power; she couldn’t even find out what had really happened. All she could do was keep her students calm, her head level, and her cigarettes socked.]

[By the end of the day, Jo was exhausted. All she wanted to do was crawl into bed, read until she couldn’t keep her eyes open, and then get as much sleep as she could before facing tomorrow. The rest of the dorm seemed to have the same idea; the common room was empty, and most of the doors were closed. Given the emptiness, Jo decided this might be a good time to take advantage of the top floor bath; she enjoyed the suds and the steam but she was usually too self-conscious to use it. As expected, the bath was empty. The adjacent toilets, however, were not. One was closed and locked and as Jo waited and listened to the muffled sounds inside, it seemed like they didn’t have any intention of coming out at all. In fact, it sounded like they were more than a little upset. Against her better judgment, Jo knocked on the door.] Hey, are you okay in there?

✑

[He really doesn’t know anything about Kaiser—not like... REALLY, anyway. He knows just the, y’know, small-community basics. He’s big, he’s scary, he reminds people of a wolf for some reason (probably because he prowled around with fur coats and collars a lot, and always looked like he was on the hunt, like he was cleaning out his teeth with a sliver of rabbit bone), and he was a “Radical.” 

Around here, maybe a lot of them have the luxury of not really knowing what being a Radical means. Like, sure they all KNOW what it means, y’know... by definition. And some people would even call themselves one. But despite like, all the people they transfer here when other Colonies don’t want to deal with them, and the prison that was on the island before that apparently some of the people here came from (like London, like River, like Oz, all transferred away, now though, so what Colony takes them when Colony 22 doesn’t want them?), things here are like... PRETTY under control, right? Like, sure there was the kidnapping, and the looter raid. And those HQ people who had shown up had been pretty intimidating but... 

Yeah, things aren’t perfect, OBVIOUSLY, but it’s not like there are raids everyday, right? It’s not like they’re out in the wastes, where Radicals and Looters are burning camps, killing children. They’re about as safe here as the apocalypse can get, he thought. Right? Aren’t they? 

But the death it... shakes him. It drags him down to a place he hasn’t been in a VERY long time, since his med dose was coming in super sporadic, if at all, and since... well, since the first falling. Since losing his parents (and everything else he’d ever known) had been more fresh. Honestly, it’s a miracle he came out of it in one piece, considering what a basket case he’d been before D-Day, too.

And he didn’t know Kaiser, he didn’t feel close to him, or similar to him or threatened by him, specifically. But still, this death SCARES him. Because people are saying things about conspiracies and Infections and the NWRF meaning for it to happen, and suddenly he doesn’t know what ‘safe’ means anymore. ARE they safe here? Is his rampant, uncontrollable infection really gonna kill him one day? Are the NWRF gonna kill him one day? ]

[He’s trying to get his breathing back under control, eyes puffy and red from hours of panic-crying, when he hears the knock on the stall door in a way he hadn’t heard someone coming into the bathroom. The noise is closer, and more purposeful, and it pulls him back to earth and he gasps a little. Looks up from the crook of his arms. God, the lights in here are glaring and bright, now that he’s opening his eyes again for the first time in so long. He squints. Scrambles to reply, but it’s like he’s forgotten how to do the... words... thing. His tongue and mouth feel dry.]

bode-lindqvist​:

[He doesn’t turn just yet, if anything he’s waiting for the other to approach. They ramble, the way most of the youth in Belvedere ramble, spilling words to take up space and silence in an otherwise empty lot. He wasn’t used to such animated people, or perhaps the company he kept was always closer to demure because that’s what Bode required. Communicate in silence, move your body left to right, purse your lips, waggle your brows, fight a grin or a laugh, fidget with clothes and jewelry. Peter had known this about Bode since the night they met, mostly because Peter didn’t enjoy talking either. Not out loud anyway. 

He sighs, a helpless thing as the other comes to a halt. Out of things to say? Needed to come up for air? When he doesn’t move from his spot near the chapel door Bode turns in his seat and looks over his shoulder.]

I personally prefer Danny Phantom, but to each their own I suppose. [Bode wasn’t sure what he was expecting to see when he looked over his shoulder but a boy with his hoodie pulled tight around his face was definitely not one of them. God. He looked like an egg. Bode raises a brow at the boy, clearly too stunned to think of something to say. If Espen was here he would laugh at the absurdity of the situation. The thought alone sobered him. If Espen was here, he would ask what was keeping Bode awake at night. A question he wasn’t ready to answer. Not yet, maybe not ever.]

[Bode motions at his own face, sleep deprived and devoid of amusement.] Do you enjoy looking like an egg or is that a protective measure of some sort? Possibly to keep your brain safely tucked inside your skull? 

Ah. Good one, yeah. He’s a... good one. [Lake nods, too sagely for the topic, trailing off awkwardly. He probably should have just stuck with saying nothing at all. The Danny Phantom comment really didn’t REQUIRE a response, but typical Lake, offered one up anyway. 

And at first, when the guy motions to his face and says something about an egg, Lake is extremely confused. Somehow, he’d ENTIRELY forgotten that he’d pulled his hood tight around his face like that and.... oh, God. Well, THIS is embarrassing. And Lake knows embarrassment very well. He and Embarrassment go way back. They’re practically besties.  Or maybe Frenemies. Like, he hates it very much,  but somehow they’re just.... always together. ]

What? Oh—Oh! Uhhh... [ He scrambles to loosen the yarn of his hood, yanking it off his head. It’s not at all smooth.] Sorry. I, uh—sorry. I forgot... It was cold and, er... yeah, never mind. Let’s just go with the looking like an egg thing. [Because he doesn’t really have a good reason for it, other than that. It’s not how most normal people stay warm, anyway.  He’s just... weird like that.

dylan-meir​:

[It’s funny, how intimidated people are by horses. Not that there’s no reason to be cautious– one good kick can send someone to the hospital or worse. But people often act as if horses are actively malicious. To be fair, some are. Dylan’s met a handful that are just assholes, pure and simple. But it’s the same with people, and yet no one treats them like a bomb about to go off.]

[Lake grips the saddle like it’s about to bite him, and Dylan can’t help but giggle. Queenie, for her part, is about as indifferent as a horse can be as Lake clambers up into the seat in the most inelegant way possible. When he’s settled, Dylan gives him a big thumbs up.] Congratulations! You are indeed on a horse. You ready to take her for a gallop?

[She says this last bit with a laugh, and instead gently begins leading Queenie and her new rider back towards the stables.] How does it feel?

☀

[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. 

annie-perrault​:

lake-valentine​:

[He has a good laugh at her take on Donovan. Well, she’s right—when she puts it that way, it IS really hard to imagine. 

She’s obviously trying to save face, at her added after thought. Which like, he’s the last person to judge her on that. He puts his foot in his mouth on the DAILY and has made a religion out of speaking and THEN thinking, in that order, so. Yeah, no room for judgement there. 

Not that he’d actually judge her for having fanfiction-type fantasies over Mr. Donovan. He IS a pretty hunky guy. And Lake is mature and ~lived~ enough to be able to think that with a straight face, now. Which is like, totally progress for him, as lame as that sounds.]

Yeah, yeah, no doubt. He’s sort of like, that ironic, cheesy kind of hot. Like in a way that you think he’s made up because no one is actually LIKE that in real life. But… y’know, there he is, doing his…. thang. Ahem. [He shrugs.] Not that I’M attracted to him, either. Just, uh. Like you said. Objectively. 

[Smooth.]

Speaking of, though. Stud Muffin. I never got that term. Like, where does the ‘muffin’ part come in? Is it some like, twisted spin off the nursery rhyme about the Muffin Man? Because everyone wanted to know him or something. Or he was the talk of the town because of his studly muscles? Like, I just can’t figure out why it’s muffin. Is it an… eating thing? Because I like them and all, but I can think of things that are a lot more ‘delicious’ than muffins. 

[’Just, uh. Like you said. Objectively.‘ Annie nods sagely, thinking they’re on about the same page when it comes to the hunkiness of Donovan. It’s nice. Lake’s nice. She never feels judged, and he’s as awkward as she is – maybe more awkward, sometimes.] 

I think, like… [Annie looks up, off to the side, in the way that she always does when she’s about to take a question way too seriously.] It’s related to beefcakes? Because beef comes from cows, and studs are breeding horses, like really virile ones, and cake and muffin are kind of similar. And you don’t want it to be like, cupcake or creme brulee because they’re too sweet, so you need to pick a more stereotypically masculine food. 

[She suddenly thinks how horrifying this would be for Lissy: talking about people as food, even if in a charming and abstract way.] But obviously it’s a very disrespectful way to talk about people, anyway. I’m sure Donovan has also got a very hunky, er, soul.

[Lake blinks. Once. Twice, Three times. Oh, WOW, he’d never imagined that Annie would have, like. A REAL answer to that. Maybe, like, a pretend, funny-type one. One that’s based on like, silly hypothesis or something, but she actually knows what STUDS are. He honestly hadn’t even thought that ‘Stud’ was a word that meant anything beyond, like, the beam behind a wall that you try to nail picture frames to.]

Oh. Holy mackerole—that makes, like. A lot of sense. Not just sense, but you like KNOW things. Real things. That’s like, a real-ass answer. I never thought there was even such thing as a real answer to that question. Wow. Annie, just, wow. [He puts his hands out and in front of himself and starts bowing a bit from the waist.] All hail the All Knowing Annie. [He’s not even being sarcastic.] You’re a Goddess. What other kinds of things do you know? 

[A hunky SOUL? Er... sure.] I mean, saying someone also has a hunky ‘soul’ isn’t probably the best fix to ‘objectifying’ them, but I dunno. Do you really think Donovan minds being objectified? If I looked like him, I’d be disappointed if people WEREN’T objectifying me. Honestly, I sorta wish more people objectified me now, but then they’re more likely to see all my flaws, so it’d be a lot, like. Safer, if they objectified me while I looked like Alex Donovan. Or, you know. JR or someone like that. 

bode-lindqvist​:

Do you feel guilty?

No.

That’s okay, Lindqvist, I have enough guilt for the two of us.

[He doesn’t wake with a start, or a watery gasp but instead with a whisper. It always surprised him how ghosts made themselves known in such gentle ways. They didn’t claw at your chest until you were bloody and begging for mercy, no, they came softly. They’re a memory, a scent, a sound unlodged if the circumstances are just right. Bode had a feeling living in a boarding school much like his own was setting up those said circumstances. A storm brewed into perfection for his downfall. Do you feel guilty? He closes his eyes once more, letting the heavy air in his lungs out. He rolls his head to the left of him, the clock on his nightstand glared out the time in neon numbers: 3:35 AM.]

Of fucking course it is. [He wanted to try going back to sleep but every time he closed his eyes Peter was staring back at him. Bode waits another minute or two before getting up, quickly redressing himself. He checks his reflection on the way out, his under eyes bruised green and blue. Maybe he shouldn’t have made that comment to Enoch about looking disheveled. ‘Call that karma,’ Peter would have said. He flattens his hair back with bony fingers, ignoring the look of disdain in his own reflection before heading out.]

[He didn’t have a destination in mind when he left Torren Tower but he hadn’t expected to walk to the Chapel while on auto-pilot either. He gave the building a wary expression as if expecting it to come to life and swallow him whole.] The morning is still young. [Maybe he deserved it. While deep in thought he doesn’t notice the presence of another approaching. They’re just a flicker of color in his periphery, more ghosts? No, a person, real and solid.]

Are you just going to stand there or are you going to keep playing Casper the friendly ghost?

.

[Okay so... he really hadn’t expected to find anyone here at this time of night. There’s hardly anyone here during the DAY even. He has heard that apparently a preacher or something has moved into the Colony so like... maybe the constant emptiness of the chapel will change soon, but usually, it’s a good place to go when he wants to be alone or just like... anywhere that looks slightly less suspicious than wandering the grounds aimlessly at Ridiculous O’clock. 

Lake tries not to sneak out too much. He definitely wouldn’t say he’s perfect (HAH), but he tries not to make a huge habit of it because he doesn’t want to draw unwanted attention to himself and also, like... well. After everything that’s happened here in the past, with the raid and the missing (taken) Infected and the NWRF playing paranoid helicopter moms... maybe it wigs him out more than it used to. Not to mention logging out on the infocoms and punching in ‘chapel’ as his destination at strange hours of the night is bound to start raising suspicion after a while. He’s not sure he really seems like the type to have Religious Emergencies that require midnight attendance to a church or whatever. 

But ever since he and Ryder decided to go back to being ‘just friends’, Lake has been having some pretty restless nights. It’s bad enough that he still shares a dorm with Ryder, that he can pick out the uneven pattern of his breathing, and his fondness for how familiar the sound is makes him feel sorta melancholy. But it’s the fact that when he used to struggle falling asleep at night due to his noisy, unstoppable mind, he could crawl into Ryder’s bed and just snuggle or hang out. And maybe he still COULD, possibly. Maybe in the future or something, because allegedly, everything is ‘fine’ between them, and the ‘break up’ had been mutual and they’d sort of come to the agreement together, after having too many fights and whatnot. But to Lake it still feels like... probably a bad idea to do that. Too early, in the very least. Maybe when more time has passed, or something. But it’s also hard to imagine lying in Ryder’s bed and not being together in that way. Because Ryder had been pretty much (aka literally and explicitly) his first, and he’d been... well. Whatever. He doesn’t want to think about it, anymore. 

Trying not to mope, yanks on the strings of his hoodie, closing the opening around his face into a small, tight hole that frames his eyebrows, cheekbones and mouth in a way that can only be unflattering. For all the world knows, he has no forehead, no chin. Doing this is partly to protect his face from the cold as he walks across the eerie moonlit grounds, and partly to protect his feelings from... well, from LIFE. There’s just something comforting about being all bundled up in his hoodie, like the world can’t touch him because it can’t see him so well. 

Stupid, probably. Definitely. But... whatever. 

He stops dead in his tracks when he enters the chapel and sees a figure in one of the pews. And he’d not really been staring so much as he’d been trying to figure out what to do now. Because he couldn’t tell who it was, first of all, so he couldn’t tell if it was a person who could get him in trouble for being out of his dorm in the middle of the night. And he also couldn’t tell if the person had heard him enter—is it too late for Lake to just... back out slowly and pretend he’d never been here? 

He’s thinking the answer is probably yes, when the person speaks out and confirms it. Lake clears his throat awkwardly.] Oh, uh. Sorry. Um. I mean,  I wouldn’t mind being Caspar. He was pretty cool, as far as, uh, cartoon ghosts go. 

dylan-meir​:

lake-valentine​:

[He sort of recognizes that look on her face, because it’s one he wears often. That sort of like… awkward-but-used-to-it look. The ‘oh look, I’ve gone and embarrassed myself again but I don’t really care that much because It’s sort of just routine, at this point. 

Not that HE thinks she’s embarassed herself—not at all—but he can tell maybe she thinks she has. Because he knows that feeling well. 

He grins a little at her attempt at a joke. Well, it was funny to him anyway. He’s not that hard to please. To put it lightly.

But as she retracts her enthusiasm a little, makes a point of saying he shouldn’t feel pressured to do it AT ALL if he doesn’t want, he clears his throat, and shakes his head. He can feel the frown in his brows but he doesn’t exactly want or need for them to be there. It’s just how he… processes… brain things.] 

No, no, uh… no, you’re not pressuring me, don’t worry. Really. I was just surprised. I am the one who asked, after all. [He gives her a smile, then looks back up the horse.] I guess it couldn’t hurt to like, at least try to get on for a little bit, right? [It couldn’t hurt…. unless he FELL OFF, anyway. But hopefully he won’t. He’s praying that he won’t.] And then maybe… if I don’t immediately shit my pants, we could do lessons every once in a while or something? 

[He winces a little as he looks at her. He really hopes he’s not asking too much of her, or being presumptuous.] 

--

Sure! I’m free most days, except for chores and training and everything. [As soon as she’s sure she hasn’t done something wrong, Dylan’s enthusiasm returns full force. She’s excited that someone else is taking an interest in the horses, but more than that, she’s excited to have someone to talk to about something other than Infections. To call him a friend might be a bit much a bit too soon, but the potential is there, and she hasn’t made all that many since she arrived. So she’s excited, but she does her best to keep it in check. Don’t want to scare him off.]

If you’re willing to give it a shot now, though. Well, it’s easy to get started. Just one foot in the stirrup and swing yourself up, or I can give you a boost. And then you put your other foot in the other stirrup and…hang on. That’s the basics of it anyway.

☀

[She’s sort of adorable like this... all eager and glittery eyed talking about horses and making time for lessons in her schedule. She’s just... VERY friendly and easing going. It makes him wonder, like... what’s she doing in Torren? Not that he doesn’t know a lot of friendly Torrens, but most of them are pretty intimidating, aren’t they? They—oh. Wait. Mouse is Torren. Duh. And he’s just about the coolest, friendliest, most laid back person Lake knows. Well, actually. He’s not AT ALL laid back. His lost boys would definitely back that up. But he’s good at coming across as laid back. It’s only people who know him well who realize he’s not. 

Right... where was he? Oh GOD she’s giving him instructions! Pay ATTENTION Lake!] 

Right, uh—stirrup, yup, that’s a stirrup. [God, he’s supposed to get his FOOT all the way up THERE? That’s like, IMPOS—oh. Oh, nevermind, he’s got it. It’s not as high as it looks. And now his foot is up here and. Shiza, now what? Right, grab onto something...

He probably looks like an idiot as he does his best not to fall over or flail while he’s trying to get up onto the horse. His tongue caught between his teeth, he’s focusing VERY hard, and so long as he grabs the little funky handle thing there on the saddle, and not the horse’s hair....]

Oh, boy. [He actually says ‘oh boy’ as he’s pulling himself up onto the saddle, and swinging his leg over. But... god dang it, he’s done it. He’s up on a horse. It’s magical, it’s majestic, it’s exciting it’s.... very high. 

annie-perrault​:

[’How you metabolise it’ is a really weird way of describing it, but Annie likes it. And yeah, maybe he’s right – maybe bravery isn’t an instinct, but a process. That feels somehow nicer to think about; more achievable anyway. Because Annie doubts she’ll ever be the sort of person that can respond heroically in the moment, but maybe there’s a certain bravery in the way she just goes on quietly surviving even when she wants to give up.] 

Maybe, yeah. It is super easy to be really harsh on yourself and think everyone else is doing way better than you… it does make sense that the people we think are ‘brave’ are still like, struggling like that. [She pauses, resting her chin in her hand and gazing about thoughtfully.] But I still can’t see like, Donovan having a meltdown after being super manly and heroic. I’ve read a million and one fanfics with hunky stoic men having one brief moment of vulnerability with their one true love after a particularly emotionally fraught moment, and I still can’t picture it for him.

[Not that she’s got a crush on Alex. He’s like, too cartoonishly hot; like Henry Cavill or something. But he does remind her of the sort of hero you’d see in a fanfic. It occurs to Annie as she finishes speaking that Lake is not one of the cal gals, and yet here she is saying weird, objectifying stuff about guys.] Not that I think he’s the fanfic man of my dreams or anything! He’s just. You know. A stud muffin. Objectively.

[Good save.]

[He has a good laugh at her take on Donovan. Well, she’s right—when she puts it that way, it IS really hard to imagine. 

She’s obviously trying to save face, at her added after thought. Which like, he’s the last person to judge her on that. He puts his foot in his mouth on the DAILY and has made a religion out of speaking and THEN thinking, in that order, so. Yeah, no room for judgement there. 

Not that he’d actually judge her for having fanfiction-type fantasies over Mr. Donovan. He IS a pretty hunky guy. And Lake is mature and ~lived~ enough to be able to think that with a straight face, now. Which is like, totally progress for him, as lame as that sounds.]

Yeah, yeah, no doubt. He’s sort of like, that ironic, cheesy kind of hot. Like in a way that you think he’s made up because no one is actually LIKE that in real life. But... y’know, there he is, doing his.... thang. Ahem. [He shrugs.] Not that I’M attracted to him, either. Just, uh. Like you said. Objectively. 

[Smooth.]

dylan-meir​:

Oh! [Dylan blinks, looking between him and the horse. Once again her enthusiasm has outpaced everything else, and now she feels incredibly awkward. She’d always been told she needed to reign it in– pun fully intended– but she just gets so excited, she can’t really help herself.] Sorry. I guess I got a little ahead of myself. It’s just been ages since I got to do this with another person. Not that the horses aren’t good company, but they’re not exactly great conversationalists, you know?

Anyway, you don’t have to start now if you don’t want to. Or ever, really. Riding certainly isn’t for everyone, and I wouldn’t want to pressure you into doing something you didn’t want to do.

☀

[He sort of recognizes that look on her face, because it’s one he wears often. That sort of like... awkward-but-used-to-it look. The ‘oh look, I’ve gone and embarrassed myself again but I don’t really care that much because It’s sort of just routine, at this point. 

Not that HE thinks she’s embarassed herself—not at all—but he can tell maybe she thinks she has. Because he knows that feeling well. 

He grins a little at her attempt at a joke. Well, it was funny to him anyway. He’s not that hard to please. To put it lightly.

But as she retracts her enthusiasm a little, makes a point of saying he shouldn’t feel pressured to do it AT ALL if he doesn’t want, he clears his throat, and shakes his head. He can feel the frown in his brows but he doesn’t exactly want or need for them to be there. It’s just how he... processes... brain things.] 

No, no, uh... no, you’re not pressuring me, don’t worry. Really. I was just surprised. I am the one who asked, after all. [He gives her a smile, then looks back up the horse.] I guess it couldn’t hurt to like, at least try to get on for a little bit, right? [It couldn’t hurt.... unless he FELL OFF, anyway. But hopefully he won’t. He’s praying that he won’t.] And then maybe... if I don’t immediately shit my pants, we could do lessons every once in a while or something? 

annie-perrault​:

[Oh, crap, she’s asked a weird question. He falters like he didn’t know how to answer, and it occurs to Annie that the polite response is to say ‘you’re not spineless, Lake!’. She realises that now, but it’s too late, and for the thousandth time Annie wishes she had better social skills.] 

I get that, I’m kind of the same. Like I can do stuff that feels brave if it’s for my friends, but if it’s just me I’m a total doormat. [She pauses, wonders if that’s really true. She’d not exactly let Alois walk all over her, even if her response hadn’t been quite as strong as she wanted.] I mean, I did recently tell someone to fuck off, but I totally cried afterwards so I don’t think it really counts as being not-spineless. [She laughs, a soft exhale at herself.] It’s kind of funny, right? Like you’d think surviving all the stuff we’ve survived would make us so tough but I just feel like a scared kid most of the time.

[When she puts it that way, it’s easier to put into perspective. That’s probably how it always is though, isn’t it? Like, when someone echoes something you think about yourself, but in the context of someone else, or themselves, it suddenly changes how you see it. Why is that, he wonders? What trait or quality makes people not want to see the best in themselves as much as they would in others? Do narcissists feel the opposite way? It’s hard for Lake to imagine, actually.] 

Well.. I don’t know, [he shrugs.] Like, maybe all the brave heroes and stuff also like, break down and cry after they’ve done the brave thing. They just... feel the human thing or let the vulnerability come out when no one is looking. After the press has left or whatever, y’know. So maybe the bravery is in, like, how you act on the day, in the hot seat, and the after-stuff when you’re alone is just.... how you metabolize it.