#reposting for threadtracker

@therealmaisiepace:

[Maisie laughs.] Oh, god help us if I’m the dating expert. I don’t know the rules, I just think it’s better for everyone to be yourself. [It sounds like an afternoon special, but somehow it’s kind of worked for her so far? (Well it did, before D-Day, at least.) Everyone simply gravitated towards her like a bed of sunflowers towards the sun, and everyone wanted to be her friend. Sometimes they wanted to be more than friends. Not that she hadn’t spent her fair share of Friday nights alone in her apartment watching Some Kind of Wonderful; just that she’d much rather be with someone who liked her for who she was. Even if that someone took a long time to turn up.]

[Maisie laughs, shaking her head.] You’re never going to let me forget that, aren’t you. And I never asked them to do it—not that you could get those boys to do anything—and I don’t even think it’s very “hot.” It kind of makes you sound old. The only exception is Richard Madden in The Bodyguard, and I don’t see him around anywhere.

So, I happily accept the position of vice president of your celibacy club. [Never mind the fact that the imaginary position hasn’t been actually offered to her, or that if a cute Empath ever called her “ma’am” it would blow her pants off faster than you could say “party house.” She laughs again, pushing that last thought firmly out of her head.]

[It would be easy for Annie to feel bitter at the concept of ‘just being yourself’ being a reasonable idea. She’d only ever tried to be herself, and she’d still been bullied relentlessly. But, she recognised now that it was more bad luck than anything else. She happened to be the new kid, the outsider, that had come from an expensive private school, so the bullies had a lot of material to work with. And then, she’d responded so weakly to the bullying that it only encouraged them to keep going.]

Aw, well that’s just an unfair double standard. Maybe he was trying to emulate Richard Madden for you, knowing that you have a type. But wait - [Annie pauses, looking very serious and thoughtful.] - if you’d let Richard Madden in The Bodyguard call you ma’am, does that mean you’d let Mr. Donovan call you ma’am? Because he’s got a similar vibe of like, stoic, hardworking policeman.

@elsa--copland:

cambieandrews‌:

[She’d only gone outside for a matter of minutes, in order to retrieve the child that had ventured out in the storm because they thought they saw a cat in need of help. In those few minutes, Cambie had gotten as thoroughly soaked as if she’d just dived into the public bath still fully clothed. The child has been safely returned to their mother, and now she’s wringing her hair out into the sink of one of the communal bathrooms. She’s cold, and clammy, and shivering, and there’s a soft smile on her face: she has to laugh at herself, because of course someone is going to come in while she’s looking like a drowned rat.] 

I know, I know - I’m that idiot. [She smiles, shaking a few more droplets from sleeves.] I’d not recommend going outside right now. Bit brisk out there.

[ As much as Elsa hates the cold, she loves the cool earthy scent that came with the rain more. She decided to endure the chill and go outside for a breath of fresh air. However, even with an umbrella and a warm jacket, her walk ended quickly as she slipped and landed ankle-deep in a muddy puddle.   

With sludge-splattered to her knees and dripping boots in one hand, she opens the door to the baths. She’s met by the sound of an unfamiliar voice and for a moment she confused by the remark but she figures the girl also fell victim the rains treachery.

She tilts her head her voice dripping with sarcasm.] is it bad out there? [She gives a half shrug.] I hadn’t noticed. 

[Elsa cracks a smile as her socks squish with each unstable step towards a free sink. Resting her shoes on the edge she gives them a quick inspection and feels where some of the pleather has lifted. She sighs. ] My boots, on the other hand, they’re not pleased.  

[Cambie had been more or less focused on wringing herself out - it’s difficult to concentrate when there’s icy drops of water creeping down your skin - but at Elsa’s sarcastic words she looked up properly, and realised that she wasn’t the only one that had gotten stuck in the rain. Actually, Elsa looks rather worse than Cambie. Cambie might be soaked through, but she’s not caked in mud.

She can’t help but laugh at the sarcastic words and the sad slapping sound of wet socks against tile.] You look like you should have stayed out a few more minutes, might have hosed some of the mud off you. [Cambie toes her own shoes off, peeling off her socks to wring them out in the sink. Elsa seems to be moving uncertainly; they’ve never spoken before, but Cambie is aware enough of most of the Colony’s citizens to know that she’s blind. She’s also aware, though, that Elsa is fiercely independent, so she’s not going to interfere. If she needs any help, no doubt she’ll ask.] 

D’you think it’s something a bit of superglue can fix? I’ve got to admit, ‘mend and make do’ has been a pretty foreign concept for me to learn over the last few years. I was a dancer before, and when your pointe shoes wear out you just toss them and get some new ones, there’s no faffing about with repairs. I’m still getting used to sewing and gluing everything back together. My name’s Cambie, by the way - I don’t think we’ve ever been introduced.

@books-xnd-cleverness:

cambieandrews‌:

[She’d only gone outside for a matter of minutes, in order to retrieve the child that had ventured out in the storm because they thought they saw a cat in need of help. In those few minutes, Cambie had gotten as thoroughly soaked as if she’d just dived into the public bath still fully clothed. The child has been safely returned to their mother, and now she’s wringing her hair out into the sink of one of the communal bathrooms. She’s cold, and clammy, and shivering, and there’s a soft smile on her face: she has to laugh at herself, because of course someone is going to come in while she’s looking like a drowned rat.] 

I know, I know - I’m that idiot. [She smiles, shaking a few more droplets from sleeves.] I’d not recommend going outside right now. Bit brisk out there.

[There are as many different types of rain as there are raindrops; that is to say, too many. Soft rain, rain that’s more like mist, thunderstorms, driving rain. Jo’s favorite has always been pure Seattle rain. The kind that comes down just hard enough to be worth staying inside, but light enough to tap out a rhyme on the window. This rain is not that. This is a deluge, a storm to rival Noah’s flood. Jo grimaces on her way to the bathroom, tooth and hairbrushes in hand, and is at least partially glad she’s safe in the Colony and not out swimming. Not like the woman currently shaking water from her hair.]

Recommendation noted, [Jo replies, smiling just a bit.] And I’d recommend you wear a bathing suit next time. Did you have a nice swim at least?

[’Did you have a nice swim?’ Cambie chuckles, turning to face the newcomer. She recognises Jo immediately, although they’ve never spoken. Jo’s the one that had tried to escape with several of the kids. It had been a difficult day, for everyone. The NWRF had been furious. Cambie had gotten into an argument with one of the guards, storming furiously that this place isn’t a prison, you can’t lock people up for wanting freedom.

But, apparently, they can. They had. Cambie’s arguments had gone ignored, and she’d been pointedly reminded of her own tenuous position, and how many Reformists there are that could easily take over Delma’s leadership from her. Sometimes she’d thought about seeking Jo out, since she suspected they might have a fair amount in common, both personally and politically, but Jo seemed content enough keeping to herself. Presumably she was keeping her head down to avoid any more trouble, and Cambie respected that. She respected the fact that it might be risky talking to her and getting too political - they were both in that tenuous position of Uninfected Elites who felt strongly against the NWRF, but couldn’t argue too loudly or risk losing what little power they had.] 

Mm, it was nice and muddy, just how I like it. [Cambie grins, shivering from the chill. The water drips down her back, a none too subtle reminder that no good deed goes unpunished.] But, isn’t that just British life? You know it’s going to be cold and rainy half the time, but you’re also just outraged when it happens. God, I know you were joking about the bathing suit, but I might actually go warm up in the baths for a bit. Come with, if you like - you might not be soaked through with icy rainwater but I’m fully convinced that hot tubbing has healing properties for anyone and everyone.

@zachbastiaans​:

cambieandrews‌:

[She’d only gone outside for a matter of minutes, in order to retrieve the child that had ventured out in the storm because they thought they saw a cat in need of help. In those few minutes, Cambie had gotten as thoroughly soaked as if she’d just dived into the public bath still fully clothed. The child has been safely returned to their mother, and now she’s wringing her hair out into the sink of one of the communal bathrooms. She’s cold, and clammy, and shivering, and there’s a soft smile on her face: she has to laugh at herself, because of course someone is going to come in while she’s looking like a drowned rat.] 

I know, I know - I’m that idiot. [She smiles, shaking a few more droplets from sleeves.] I’d not recommend going outside right now. Bit brisk out there.

[Zach wasn’t new to spending a storm cloaked day and night in moaning structures. He’d been on the wrong side of storms before. He could still clearly remember one summer camp where half of the camp washed away overnight and they had to hide in the bathroom building, where everything came back up through the toilets. It wasn’t pretty. There had been enough times when storms had completely taken them by surprise staying in an empty building that had long since lost its ability to keep its occupants dry. He remembered completely soaked clothing and sleeping bags, hiding inside some supermarket somewhere as soon as they opened. Drinking free coffee and hoping their clothing would dry as they wore it. And aside from that: Zach loved thunder storms. There was something powerful about Mother Nature when it got angry, it made him feel small, it made him appreciate life itself, beyond just himself. He would’ve probably gone outside anyway, running in a thunder storm - at least if it wasn’t in open fields - was great, but standing in the doorway, Zach had assisted a couple of unlucky individuals, who had picked this day to go for a walk. He was soaking, and cold, definitely cold, but he loved. He would probably sit in front of a window the rest of the day if the thunder continued.] 

[Walking into the communal bathroom, Zach saw that he wasn’t the only person that enjoyed - in some sort of way - to be soaked to the bone, at least, so he figured, because she was smiling.] Oh, I know. [He said, walking to join her at the next sink over, pulling at the strands of his hair, watching a stream of water disappear in the drain.] I think it’s raining. [He offered, a light attempt at a joke.] 

[At least Cambie’s not the only one foolish enough - or helpful enough - to go out into the storm. He looks about as sodden as she does. Zach, she thinks? They’ve not met formally, but she’s sure she’s seen him around a few times. He seems to fly under the radar in a way that most Torrens... don’t. His smile is sweet, clearly truly unbothered by getting caught in the storm.] 

Ah, is that what it is? [Cambie laughs, shaking her head. A few thick tendrils of hair stick to her cheek. It’s going to take hours to dry off; she only washes her hair once or twice a week specifically because it’s a nightmare when it’s wet. Still, it’s not the end of the world.] 

You look like you’ve just survived an attempted drowning - here. [Cambie grabs a towel from the side, tossing one to Zach and taking one for herself, dabbing her face carefully. Mascara everywhere, hair in wet ribbons, clothes sticking and clinging uncomfortably: it’s not the best she’s ever looked, but Cambie’s never been terribly vain.] So what’s your excuse? Random act of heroism?

@occamcomplex​:

cambieandrews‌:

[She’d only gone outside for a matter of minutes, in order to retrieve the child that had ventured out in the storm because they thought they saw a cat in need of help. In those few minutes, Cambie had gotten as thoroughly soaked as if she’d just dived into the public bath still fully clothed. The child has been safely returned to their mother, and now she’s wringing her hair out into the sink of one of the communal bathrooms. She’s cold, and clammy, and shivering, and there’s a soft smile on her face: she has to laugh at herself, because of course someone is going to come in while she’s looking like a drowned rat.] 

I know, I know - I’m that idiot. [She smiles, shaking a few more droplets from sleeves.] I’d not recommend going outside right now. Bit brisk out there.

Bit bri– Cambie. [[ Mitch had barely opened the door to catch sight of her before he can’t help but laugh, though it’s playfully disappointed more than it is anything else. He’d caught sight of her just around the corner as she’d retreated, and of course had to follow out of a friendly concern.

They hadn’t exactly had a lot of time to sit down properly in the wake of the colony-wide sickness, even if they’d been able to steal the odd catch-up over mealtimes or between his classes. Mitch hadn’t been avoiding her, not specifically, but with some guilt he was realizing he hadn’t exactly sought Cambie out for any of their extended chats, either. Even if they’d managed to bounce back from the weighty conversation revolving around his ex-wife, there was still an unmistakable shift between them – an elephant in the room, even if it was a small one.

Still, it doesn’t stop him from smiling warmly and shaking his head as he crosses to help her, reaching up with careful fingers to disentangle the odd twig or leaf that’d been swept into Cambie’s hair. ]] We’d better get you back to Delma and changed, or I’ll be the one escorting you to the infirmary next.

[God. It wouldn’t be fair to say that Cambie’s been avoiding him, but it would be fair to say that she’s been cautious in the interest of protecting Mitch from whatever mess is going on in her head. It’s not fair on him, not in the wake of him opening up about his ex-wife. She’s halfway between trying to work through what she’s feeling and make some sense of it, while also burying it deep enough that nobody will notice.

She’s certainly not going to talk to anyone about it. Cambie is, after all, a Delma, whatever people might think of her openness. But as Mitch enters, Cambie is confronted with just how terribly she’s failed at accepting or burying. He says her name with that soft, warm laugh that he has, and he smiles that soft, warm smile, and Cambie just about melts.

Of course he reaches out to extract a leaf from her hair. And, bugger, of course it makes Cambie feel a twist in her stomach. Thank god she’s not prone to blushing - it’s a small mercy, anyway.] I thought that ‘you’ll catch your death out there’ was bad science? [She smiles, feeling a familiar swell of fond warmth as he looks at her.] Isn’t the common cold just a virus, nothing to do with getting soaked to the bone in a storm? Also, just for the record, you’ll have to take me down fighting if you think I’m going to the infirmary for a case of the sniffles.

@aurelia--ferris

[She knows what she hopes he’ll say. That he has what she’s been searching for. Months scouring the Echo, comparing snippets of tidal charts and major fault lines, scraping together any kind of semblance of information that could lead her to hot spots—or alternately safe zones—that would’ve escaped the devastation.]

[It’s hard for her to imagine the entire world responding to her when she goes back in time, listening to her, but she always knew that if she did manage to get there, and could save someone, anyone, with the information that she’s gathered, all of this might be worthwhile on a cosmic level. The way she feels now, it’d pale in comparison.]

[Because once she looks past saving Lucy, the truth is that she does want to help. She wants this to be better for someone, the second time around. More than she’s ever wanted anything in her life. It’s just… not easy to admit that to herself. It puts too much on the line.]

[She wants to press him with questions—Did they take photographs? Map the damage? Did it clear at all?—just to find anything she can, but as he continues, she realizes… he did have other priorities.]

[It’s not his fault he doesn’t know what it is costing her, to accept that he might not have anything at all.]

[She wants to tell him… that she could change all that. Make sure he was on the ground, rather than in orbit, or send them warning at least, before the ISS was impacted.]

[Her teeth knead into her bottom lip.]

[Finally, unable to mask her disappointment:] You don’t have… evidence of what happened, do you? Photos, records… anything you remember about where, um. [She already knows he probably doesn’t, and it’s crushing her.] Where they hit worst, where they didn’t hit at all… Or, where did you radio first? Did you see somewhere that was safe from it? [One safe place, left green and vibrant afterwards, or one place she can warn beforehand. Just one. Please.] It’s—it’s okay, if you didn’t…

[But… please…]

[Oh no. He hadn’t anticipated this. A lot of people have asked similar questions, since Constantin and Anaya were in a unique position to get a different vantage point of the destruction. But it had always been asked from a scientific standpoint. Aurelia asks, and she looks at him with wide eyes, mouth held in tense anticipation, as if his answer matters to her. Not just that it matters. It matters on a very personal level.

It tugs at Costin’s heartstrings. It hurts. He wishes he could give her the answers she needed as a salve to the pain on her face.

The worst thing is, he has the answers. But he’s not quite sure if he’s prepared to give them to her. He doesn’t know who she is, or why she’s asking, or what she would do with the information he has. What if he told her he had a map hidden in his mattress where he’d sketched out the damage as best he could, and she took it? Showed it to the wrong people? He isn’t sure how the information could be used for harm, but he’s on high alert all the time, these days. He still understands very little of how the world has developed down here; just because he can’t imagine how the information he has hidden might be used, doesn’t mean it couldn’t be abused.] 

I... first ve contact China and Peru. They are first places ve see get hit. [The asteroids had hit several of the surrounding countries at once, but when they first realised what was going to happen, China and Peru had been their first points of contact. It all went so quiet so quickly after that. He pauses then, mouth moving silently. Costin wipes his eyes, unable to stop the slow leak of tears. In part he hesitates because he isn’t sure how much he’s willing to tell her, but he is also truly struggling to talk about it. The image of earth, burning, will never leave him. Every time he closes his eyes he sees it again, and he hears his colleagues screaming as they watch everyone they love die, a million miles too far away to help.] 

I think... I think novhere is really safe. Some areas maybe are not hit so badly, but... vhy it matter? In the end everyvhere lose... so much. It make no difference now.

@alois-the-real-boy

[[ Her reply is a terribly genuine thing, and Alois finds a surprising amount of comfort in that. With only the briefest moment of hesitation he’ll slide from the arm of the sofa to sit on it properly, collecting one leg up in a bend to lace his fingers around it.

Alois turns what she’s said over in the back of his mind, quietly calculating. He wasn’t yet living in Colony 22 when the Reformists came to power but the shockwaves are still rippling back and forth, criss-crossing like thin disturbances on the water’s surface. It seems to be felt with a particular depth in Calyset, where the demoted Head of House still resides instead of having been transferred away like the others who were replaced. He’d been popular, that much was obvious; and still was, it seemed, for the subdued resentment Alois can sense that a lot of his housemates hold towards the new Head.

Cambie is likewise popular, and Alois can easily see why. He wonders if the Reformists only haven’t demoted her for their hat trick of house dominance because they can tell there’s still too much lingering resentment in the air from the replacement of the rest. ]] That’s noble of you. [[ Alois’s flatness could easily be read as sarcasm, but he means it. He can hardly question the difference one non-Reformist makes amongst three when he’s personally benefited from her lenience. Still: he’s curious. ]] Would you step down, if you thought you could without consequence? [[ If it’s too personal a question to ask, Alois doesn’t register as much. He never was one for small talk. ]]

[It’s... a very personal question. That’s not to say Cambie won’t answer it, but it does startle her with its boldness. Clearly Alois is not one to get mired down in niceties and platitudes. It doesn’t strike her as rude, though; he’s allowed to ask questions. Questioning those in authority is always important, and it’s more important that those authority figures answer honestly. Cambie doesn’t hold herself above anyone else here; she might be the rallying point for Delma, and the one to keep things organised and running smoothly, but she’s still a member of the community. She can’t ask people to trust her if she doesn’t offer them that same trust.

So she offers Alois the honest answer, shaking her head.] 

No. No, definitely not. I think I’d feel very adrift without my work here. I was fairly career-oriented before D-Day -- I wanted to settle down and start a family one day but ballerinas retire early and I wanted to see that through, first. Obviously there’s not much need for dancers these days, so it’s important for me to have... something to do, you know? It’s a lot of stress and pressure sometimes, but that’s how I know it’s important work. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

@rhyslikespopcorn

Oh no! That would be great! I love that idea!

[Rhys exclaimed excitedly. He could already imagine the kids going about the business of painting their own animal in there.

Although he was worried about the jungle theme.

They didn’t own a whole lot of books, the few picture books that they did have - and were gifted to them by the library people - weren’t very varied.

And he figured he needed to tell Annie that, but the words simply didn’t come out, because she was so excited about her idea.

He would feel very bad if he were to kill it now instantly after having been the one to suggest her painting.]

Or we could do farm animals?

We’re doing a project right now on important animals that give us food, like chickens and cows, and maybe I could tie it in with that.

Or maybe that would be a bit too boring.

We could also do fake animals, that they can create their own animal? Paint like… four different habitats on each side of the tree hut…?

[He offered the plans to Annie, she was the creative one after all.]

[Annie has a talent for finding the quickest path to anxiety in any situation. And most of the time she knows how irrational it is. Like right now, she thinks about all the times she got bullied for being a teacher’s pet, even though the only reason she ate lunch in classrooms and spent a while talking to teachers after school every day was because she was trying to avoid the other kids and their bullying and it just became a vicious cycle.

And she thinks about how she’d definitely get beaten up for planning extracurricular art projects with a teacher. Even though none of those bullies are here now, it’s still a nightmare, and she still expects the worst.

She tries to soothe away the clenching in her stomach, because Rhys is safe and kind and there’s nobody else here. Glancing over her shoulder, Annie wondered if that was a flickering nightmare creature behind her or if she’s so tired she’s only starting to see things.] 

I don’t think farm animals would be boring, it’d be educational, right? Because hopefully we’ll be able to start farming again some day so it’s important for kids to learn about that stuff. Four different habitats would be really fun, that way they can do whatever they like, and they can pick whatever four different themes they’d like. Although, how much paint do we even have? Four walls is a lot, and kids can be... messy.