Do no harm. Take no shit.

virens  |  teilo & anaya 

@teiloembry​

[Kip’s suggestion had been like a light at the end of the tunnel at the time, but now that Anaya has the information in her hands, she feels a little overwhelmed. She wants to help, she wants to mean something in the grand scheme of things – just as she had meant something once with her research, her academics –, but now that it comes down to speaking up, she chokes. She lingers for a few days, sits on her own with this decision while she waits for the effect of the funeral to pass them by. She even keeps it from Constantin. She’ll tell him all about it if this conversation goes well, but if her idea doesn’t lead to anything, she will gladly pretend it never happened.

Approaching Teilo, at least, is not the hardest thing she’s had to do. Teilo is a fellow scholar, someone she has exchanged pleasant words with before. It’s unsure to her if they could be considered friends, the word seems to hold such a weight for her these days, but they are definitely in good enough terms that it’s not so nerve-wrecking when she decides to reach out to him by the end of their lunch time.] 

Hey– Teilo, hi. Anaya. [She introduces herself lamely, because they haven’t talked in quite a while, and paranoia says that maybe he’s a busy man and has forgotten about her by now. She’ll save them the awkwardness of having to remind each other, if that were the case.] I want to talk to you about something. Could you… come with me, for a sec? [There’s not enough courage in her to talk about this in hushed whispers in the middle of everyone else, even if no one would pay them any mind. She’d much rather take him to the greenhouse and share this with him on the way there, with many less prying ears around.] 

[He’s been feeling uncharacteristically lost, these days. Between the funeral and the political undercurrent, Alois’ troubling confession that has Teilo concerned for his friend’s well-being, and of course, all that has continued to go unspoken between he and Dante, he is finding what little solace he can in distraction and in books. 

And his head is ducked in one now, brow furrowed gently in a way he doesn’t notice, because it’s subconscious, but unfortunately, it has little to do with the book. It’s candy floss and food colouring, content wise, and there’s nothing terribly pensive or worrying enough about the umpteenth description of yet another ballroom, to warrant the frown on his face. 

He’s just frowning because it’s that kind of week, apparently, and his body is doing it because he hasn’t the wherewithal to stop it. 

Fortunately, her gentle voice and her kind, familiar face—and the charming way she stumbles over an unnecessary introduction—distracts him from his distraction well enough to smile. He smiles, because it’s a welcome sight to see her and to talk to her, but it slips into something more curious as she asks for his company. 

To be honest, he has no idea what it could be about, but he’s intrigued—and in these circumstances, he’d even say he’s relieved, because at this point, nearly anything new coming down the pipeline is welcome.]

Monday, April 10th Kaiser’s Wake, The Chapel

@the-original-charley​

[She nods softly, unsurprised by his answer of ‘No, I didn’t know him’. Based on what she’s been hearing so far at the wake, no one really did. A part of her wonders whose fault that is? Is it the community who never took the time to get know one of their own? Or the individual who kept himself so isolated and walled up that no one could find a way in? But she won’t dwell on it. He’s gone. It hardly matters now. 

Charlotte turns back to the portrait with hum as she considers how to best explain herself.] Well, you know how– and maybe you don’t. [She cuts herself off to clarify with a small shrug, small smile still plastered in place.] Maybe I’ve just been to too many of these– But often there’s something with the displayed photo or portrait, that’s just.. [A small shake of her head as she tries to find a delicate way to phrase her thoughts.] inaccurate. A smile that they never wore, a sense of regality or kindness they never actually had. Some exaggeration of the person that they really were in life. 

[She takes a moment to again consider the portrait.] I only had a couple of conversations with him,  [Though ‘conversations’ seems too strong of a word.]  but this seems like a truer reflection. No embellishments. [Charlotte chuckles softly, though given the somber occasion, there’s no real humor behind the sound.] I’m pretty sure that is the look he gave me when we first met.  

[So it isn’t political. Teilo is somehow both relieved, and disappointed. Not that this would be remotely the time or place to be blindly leaping into a conversation like that, but he’d thought for a second he was maybe getting a look into how she saw things; and a preview of the perspective of a Reformist isn’t always pleasant, but it’s informative. There’s only one thing worse than being repressed by a dictatorial government, and it’s being kept in the dark by them. One of the most threatening things about the NWRF is their utter lack of transparency. Everything they preach and represent, it feels fabricated, rehearsed. It’s not even their version of the truth, which would be preferable, even if it were prejudice—but it’s the version of the truth they want you to believe. A manipulation, a performance. A lie. 

But his mind is wandering: one part out of habit, another part the sort of removed sorrow one might feel at the funeral of a man they didn’t know, but feel his absence, all the same. And he doesn’t have any real resentment towards this woman whom he recognizes as one of the newer NWRF reps, because he understands everyone has a story, and he doesn’t want to assume hers. He’d be a hypocrite, after all, considering with who he’s been spending so many of his nights.]

[‘No embellishments’.  He smiles gently, nods sadly but with conviction. Lets out an appropriately amused breath at her humourless chuckle.] I’d believe that, [he replies.] And you make a good point. I know what you mean, actually. I agree, in that case—this does seem fair. I dare say even how he’d like it—though I wouldn’t in a position to speak for him. 

dante-carrington​:

teiloembry​:

[At first, he’s surprised to hear it confirmed that Clove had been present, because so far, he’d only heard rumours, and he’d figured the rumours were fabricated. Mostly because they consisted of exaggerated ideas of Clove picking a fight with Kaiser, provoking him and threatening him until Kaiser collapsed. Which… really didn’t seem to track with Teilo’s impression of the NWRF Rep. With his impression of either of them, really. Even if tensions had risen, Clove wouldn’t have been interested in giving Kaiser that kind of time and energy. He’s not one to engage in that way. Much quicker to close himself off, to turn away when he doesn’t want to deal with the conflict. Acting above it, whether he believes it or not.

He’s also surprised he’d not heard the bit about the chair being thrown. If he had, he’d have been inclined to believe that was exaggerated rumour as well. 

Dante focused on the medical side of things. His prognosis based on the details he has access to, educated guesses and inference. And by the case he makes, it does make sense. It makes too much sense for Teilo to really be suspect of the NWRF’s involvement.]

[He nods, pensive.] Mm. Yeah I was skeptical about the theories involving the NWRF as well. [Not because he’d put it past a corrupt government to orchestrate an execution of convenience, but because it just didn’t seem to add up, here.] But… if it really was caused by the use of his infection… that’s a scary thought, isn’t it? [All he can think of is Sid. If this is true, does Sid know? How does he feel about it? How would Teilo, were he in his shoes?] Because aneurysm or not… do you think it’s possible it could have gone unruptured, had it not been for the use of Kaiser’s telekinesis? Or even, do you think there’s a chance it was caused by the telekinesis? Do we know for sure that it wasn’t? 

____

[Dante has little to do with the Infection testing. It’s not his area of expertise, he’s no geneticist. But he wishes now that he had some degree of involvement more than he does, because he honestly feels as much at a loss as anyone else.

It’s incredibly frustrating that six years on they still have such a sparse understanding of the Infections. Resources are limited and so many thousands of excellent minds have been lost, so of course there’s only so much they can do, but still. It isn’t in Dante’s nature to accept mediocrity.

It isn’t usually in his nature to tiptoe on thin ice, either. The tension is heavy in the air. Kaiser’s passing is bigger than his relationship with Teilo; he knows this in his head. The whole Colony is in chaos. So why doesn’t it feel as big? It feels incomparably small, a little hum of background noise to the clamour in his head. He wants to confess everything, and he wants to shut his mouth and not say another word. He wants to make Teilo happy, but he can’t imagine how that would be possible any more.

This conversation about Infections isn’t a conversation he wants to have, but it’s better than the one they will have to have in time. At least Dante knows the words to say, though they do sound hollow, as if recited by rote.]

No, and with how poorly understood the Infections are, I doubt the autopsy will provide much clarity. But even if the rupture was directly related to his telekinesis, that shouldn’t worry the general population. Brain aneurysms don’t really have an identifiable cause; sometimes they just happen. And when they rupture, it is often just a matter of timing. Only something like one or two per cent of the population have a brain aneurysm, and of that small percentage only a small fraction will have the aneurysm rupture.

That’s not a reason for people to change the way they live. If Infections were a huge risk to people’s health, we’d have seen a lot more of this by now. Kaiser’s death was extremely unfortunate, but even if it was directly caused by his telekinesis, I think you’d be hard put to argue that it’s a life altering revelation. There will always be statistical outliers and if you live your life according to the worst possible scenario then you live a limited life indeed.

[He’s not sure how comforting the argument is about the one or two percent—because what if that’s a changing statistic? It could be, couldn’t it? What’s to say that aneurysms won’t become more common, since the development of the Infections? After all, it’s only been five or six years, which is nothing in the field of medical research, really, and even less in the field of statistics.

He does have to concede that Dante makes a good point when it comes to the general risk of the Infections; there’s still so much they don’t know—at least, there’s still so much the public doesn’t know—but surely if the Infections posed a threat to physical health, they’d have seen more of those patterns by now. And if they had, he’s also sure that the NWRF would have pounced at the opportunity to use that kind of information against the public as a scare tactic—frighten people into siding with the Reformists, into believing in the importance and necessity of the New Wave. 

But then again... one could still argue that this is only the beginning. Could it be that there are long term effects of the Infections, that they simply haven’t seen until now because they haven’t had the data? Because everything has been so wholly new and uncharted? Could this be the unfortunate inception of something even more unfortunate? 

Nonetheless, he nods. Slowly, quietly. Everything Dante says is true in its own right, anyway, even if there is room still for doubt. It’s valid—it just may not be enough.

Teilo falls quiet after that. He finds he doesn’t know what to say because Dante’s answers are sensible, and whether he’s right or not, there’s no value in arguing with someone who doesn’t have any more answers than he’s already provided. And if Teilo were simply a citizen looking for information, now might be when he’d thank the doctor for his time and politely excuse himself. 

But there is a much larger elephant in the room and Teilo is torn between addressing it, and avoiding it entirely, because he doesn’t want to push or corner Dante. He’s maintained through this that he wants to respect Dante’s privacy, and his need for time, to process whatever it is he’s trying to come to terms with. He also doesn’t want to pressure a man who’s already apparently primed for a misfire. 

But it’s painful, not being with him, not touching him, or being touched by him, and it leaves a hollow feeling in Teilo’s chest. He keeps reliving Dante pulling away from his embrace, telling him ‘don’t’. It’s less than pleasant, to put it gently, and it’s responsible for this uneasy nausea and disorientation. ]

bodelevy-lindqvist​:

[He does his best to not visibly preen at Teilo’s comments, although there’s a chance he failed.] Careful now, Teilo, or I’m going to begin thinking you’re the one that is flirting. [He tilts his head down to match gazes with the other, his smile growing smaller as he continues to speak. If Bode was the kind of man that could step outside of himself and see the ridiculousness of their pouting he would, if it had been anyone else he probably would have pointed it out without remorse. But Teilo was sincere enough to make the distinction difficult.

They hadn’t discussed politics much, if anything they veered from that topic quite purposefully. Bode had yet to decide if Teilo was someone to be trusted with such things. It was one to discuss literature and art and another thing entirely to converse about their state of living under an oppressive regime. A part of him felt guilty for assuming Teilo could be the kind of person that saw the infected as…well, infected instead of people with newfound abilities. He made a mental note of never bringing it up to him. The last thing he needed was losing one of the few people who have come to enjoy his company.] If you’re ruffling some feathers while here for what you believe to be true, consider me an advocate to your cause. The world has had time to settle in the dust of its destruction, maybe it’s fine to desire something new again.

[If he was talking to anyone else he might have considered his words more carefully but he trusted Teilo to not make any hasty decisions. He was, after all, incredibly smart but more importantly thoughtful to those around him. His desire for change would not be at the cost of the innocent. He could trust in Teilo doing what was right, when the time was right.] But that’s a conversation that can be had at a later date. If you’re done here, do you mind walking with me to Delma? I need to check in on my brother but would love your company.

[Teilo’s brows slip into his fringe in a passing, brief moment as he tips his head, one ear pausing closer to his shoulder like an inverted shrug.] Well, I’ve been accused of it before, I’ll admit, [he replies, smiling gently. And it’s casual, because it’s something he knows about himself and Teilo doesn’t believe in spending any time pretending to be anything he isn’t. He’s been known to be something of a flirt, at times, sure, but it’s just a part of his personality, and he’s not ashamed of it.] But I’ve certainly been accused of much worse... [he finishes with a shrug.]

[The fact that Bode seems to... perk of his ears, so to speak, at the mention of politics, doesn’t go unnoticed by Teilo. ‘Consider me an advocate to your cause’. Bold words—especially coming from an Elite. And it’s decidedly vague, just as a politician would be, but it’s also pointedly deliberate. This talk of ‘ruffling feathers’ and ‘desiring something new’.... it has Teilo’s gaze cutting up to Bode’s face in curiosity. Dubious, sure, but evocative nonetheless, and it gives Teilo the impression Bode is inviting another conversation, perhaps in private, but wants to be sure this invitation doesn’t go ignored. Interesting... does he have something up his sleeve, then? Something Teilo hadn’t anticipated? Is he not as squeaky clean as his status suggests? Teilo is running their conversations over in his mind, but he doesn’t believe they’ve ever spoken about their political positions, or their opinions on the New Wave. Not wholly surprising—Teilo doesn’t make a habit of advertising his true ambitions loudly, and he’d assume many others are the same.]

I look forward to that date, then, [he intones. Because Bode may be dismissing the subject, but Teilo intends to hold him to his word on that. His interest has been sufficiently peaked, to say the least.

books-xnd-cleverness​:

[Jo doesn’t miss the way Teilo talks about Zach. The slip into past tense, and the hasty correction. She can sympathize with that; she still doesn’t know how she’d talk about Rosalind, assuming she ever did so. Rosalind isn’t dead, that much she’s sure of, but the chances of seeing her again are slim to none. She also can’t help but wonder what relationship Teilo had with Zach. Her guess would be ‘close’, but just how close is a mystery. In another life Jo might’ve asked, but these days even she knows not to cross that particular line without invitation.]

I am a historian, [She corrects, allowing the conversation to move back into more familiar, comfortable territory.] I double-majored in college. History and literature. I never actually got my degree, but I was close to graduating, so I figure between that and all the work I’ve done since, I’ve just about earned the title. And you have to admit my timing was kind of impeccable, you know? I mean, how many historians do you think would’ve given their right arms to live through something as world-changing as this?

✑

[Jo’s correction of ‘was’ vs ‘is’ in context of her career makes his heart do a little leap of affection, and maybe one of empathy or ache. He can relate to this passion of hers—to the way she stands by what she studied, hangs on to who she was and was intending to be before D-Day, because why should that change entirely? Are they really meant to treat their previously projected selves as ghosts of lives that never came to be? Teilo faces that question everyday when he looks in the mirror, and remembers what he used to think about each morning he woke up and dressed for the day, compared to what he thinks when he does it now. 

So many treat and talk about his education as though it has no place in the world now. Where are majors and minors? Where are justice and law other than concepts thrown to the fires? Succumbed to hopelessness.

But he just can’t bring himself to see it that way, and it’s not because he can’t let go of his Harvard legacy, it’s because he can’t let go of his dreams. Law had been a part of his family, yes, a legacy in its own right—but it’s also been something he’s been passionate about his whole life. Without it, what does he have? What is a person without direction, especially these days?]

Oh, certainly. It was a part of who you were back then, and it remains true. I also empathize—I never graduated either, but law is in my bones. The way I grew up, I was born a lawyer, in some sense. [He smiles gently.] Though I do deeply wish I could have finished my education. If only for myself, even if it wouldn’t have proven practical come D-Day. 

Anyway, that’s fascinating—so you mean you’ve been documenting your experiences so far? 

roy--walters​:

[There’s the ghost of a grin that passes across Roy’s face as Teilo plays along. Almost like a normal conversation. It is a normal conversation, Roy reminds himself. He’s the only one that thinks it isn’t. 

Roy almost hesitates when, out of the corner of his eye, he catches Teilo folding his shorts on the bench. He knows it’s not a pressure thing for him to be in just a towel, but is that proper etiquette for a steam room? Probably? Or maybe there was none and he was just over thinking it for no reason. Probably that. He’s not sure what would make him more uncomfortable, being in there in just a towel, or in his shorts when he knew Teilo was just in a towel. He needs to stop. He had this kind of problem back in high school, whenever there was gym class and they had to change or shower and he always felt uncomfortable in front of everyone else. He used to be embarrassed about how scrawny and pale he was compared to all the other guys. Now he’s even more embarrassed about that because he’s even more skinny and even more pale. Plus he has some faint scars that he doesn’t think anyone else would notice at first glance, but he doesn’t like them. Mostly because he doesn’t remember how he got them. 

Roy doesn’t think about any of that anymore and grabs his towel, wrapping it around his waist and carefully sliding his shorts off, folding them not nearly as neatly as Teilo had, and sets them on the bench as he sits down.]

[He lets out a dry chuckle. Life before the Falling. A lifetime ago. He’s glad Teilo asks who was he and not who is he. Because he knew the answer to one of those questions. The other…] Um, y’know, I guess I was, um, just finishing up high school? [That’s not interesting. Or something really about who he was. He doesn’t like talking about himself.] I was really into computers. And video games. I was pretty good at school, though I could’ve done better. [No, he thinks, he couldn’t have. He had mostly As, and maybe one or two Bs every now and again. But his parents expected better. he should’ve been better, he should’ve done more extra curricular activities, he should’ve gotten a hire score on his placement tests for universities. Stop thinking about that, he runs a hand back through his hair, taking a breath of the heavy air, letting it sit in his chest.] I wasn’t super interesting back then. Just a teenager trying to get through the last bit of school. What about you? What’d you get up to back then?

[Roy seems to hesitate with indecision for a moment, before he takes up the towel, but Teilo pretends not to notice. Common decency, really. 

It’s also obvious Roy isn’t used to talking about himself—what Teilo can’t tell, is he it’s because he hates it, or simply because no one really asks. Though, he has his suspicions.

Finishing up high school—God, Teilo was hardly much further along, and yet high school, by the time Harvard had come along, had felt worlds away. And now? Memories of high school are hazy at best.]

Sounds interesting to me, [Teilo counters simply, and with a shrug.] I knew so little about computers. Or video games, even. What I did know almost intimidated me. Such creativity and imagination... just... boundless, you know? To be able to create and experience something like that. I never... had the chance to get into anything like that, though now, I sort of regret it. Just... back then, I felt like there was never enough time. Hardly enough time for the hobbies that I did have, much less picking up any new ones that were less familiar to me. Ironic, now, considering we seem to have nothing but time, but so much less with which to fill it. 

Me? I did two years of undergrad and was just getting into my graduate studies. Half way through the year, when... [he trails off. Smiles softly, if sadly. Shrugs it off.] 

kip-whitmer​:

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 their 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.

[Ooh, so close. Honestly, he doesn’t know how Teilo does it – he always sounds so understanding and encouraging. Kip is painfully aware of his own petulance by contrast. He can’t imagine being so damn charming about everything all the time.]

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.] 

bodelevy-lindqvist​:

I don’t believe either of us could claim being modest men. [He watches the exchange between Teilo with lazy interest.] I’m reminded of it every day I’m on this island. I don’t believe I’ve been mocked so much in my life. [But he smiles all the same.] I’m beginning to think you’re my only friend. [That’s putting it mildly. Bode seems to be on a mission to piss off everyone he comes into contact with. Even those he genuinely tries to connect with he manages to infuriate. He’s lost his touch, gone too abrasive for anyone’s taste. He wasn’t about to cry about it or let it keep him up at night but it was nice to not be glared at for once.]

[Bode trails the younger man, both tall and thin enough to be blown away by the wind, if not for their weighted gaze.] Aisling? How did I miss that? [It suited him, he thought. Teilo Embry Aisling. It rolled off the palate smoothly, easily light and musical.] I could see her fascination. It definitely sets you apart from the crowd. I love names that are thought through. Long and complicated but maybe I’m just partial to them because of my own. [He always loved his name, it wasn’t until recently he began cutting it down to just Bode. He hates the way English accents cut the syllables of his name with the imprecision of a blunt butter knife. He didn’t respect his mother much but he did hold some pride towards the beauty of his name, the history it held in delicate Swedish letters.]

[The same quiet pride that comes with being right, even if it’s something as small as a golden pin. When Teilo thanks him Bode simply smiles, clearly pleased.] So what prompted this shopping spree, Mr. Aisling? [Mostly he just wanted to hear his name out loud again. It tastes like edible flowers, sweet and slightly like agave syrup.] Is there something on your mind? [Teilo, Bode thinks, is a lot of things but a frivolous spender, isn’t one of them.]

[‘I’m beginning to think you’re my only friend.’ Teilo turns a perplexed smile Bode’s way.] You? Goodness, I can’t see why. You’re fascinating, charming, well-spoken, handsome... [he quirks a smile, spares a shrug.]  And I’m not just blowing smoke up your ass, I promise you. [A pause, as they idly wander by a few more merchant tents, nearer to the back exit of the Hub, now.] 

But at the same time, I suppose I can understand the feeling of being a bit out of your element here. I think I’ve raised a number of eyebrows since my arrival as well, and not necessarily in the good way. I’m not... one among many, in this place. My experiences, both before and after D-Day, it seems, set me apart from the community here, somewhat. And the people here are scared, fairly so. So I think they have a hard time trusting people like me. Like us, maybe. [Though, no doubt it must help that Bode is Infected. Or it should, in the long run. Teilo is just that much more likely to be seen as ‘one of them’ if he’s not careful. Which is ironic, given why he’d come here.

It feels like what’s on his mind is probably obvious, given recent events, but this is probably Bode’s way of inquiring without being too specific or pushy, which Teilo can appreciate. Besides, yes, the death is on his mind, but it’s not necessarily Kaiser himself, who’s on his mind. After all, he’d not known the man. 

cambieandrews​:

[She’s so tired. She can feel it in her dry, itchy eyes, and she really can’t wait for it to be over. All the political ramifications are too much for her to consider right now; she’s just looking forward to crawling into bed early tonight and sleeping softly in Mitch’s arms. But for others, the politics are too loud to ignore.

What’s Teilo thinking? It’s been a while since the two of them spoke, and she wondered how much progress he’d made. Cambie had been cautious, so she understands if he’s proceeded without her (sometimes she thinks the best she can offer is a blind eye) with… something, whatever vague ideas he had been planning. How did Kaiser fit into all of that? Was he a risk, too loud and violent? Or was he an icon of something most had been too scared to vocalise?

He’s deep in thought, a frown etched between his brows, and it wouldn’t surprise Cambie if he hadn’t even heard her approach.] 

It’s a lot, isn’t it? [She speaks gently so as not to startle him. Not referring to the picture, but the situation as a whole.] 

[She stepped up at his side, and brought with her a soft breeze of cinnamon and nutmeg. Something sweet and warm. Teilo’s physical senses were about as normal as they come, on backdrop of a world were there were those who could see like hawks, smell like predators. But she had a cozying innocence about her scent, like a lingering memory of a life before all this. More like a dream, these days. 

He nods, sighs. He’s not sure in what order.] It is. [What else is there to say, really? She’s right.] I know we should almost expect death, in this new world of ours. But somehow, I hadn’t been.

Monday, April 10th Kaiser’s Wake, The Chapel

the-original-charley​:

[This isn’t the first funeral that Charlotte’s attended where she knew little more than the face and voice of the deceased. It had been the nature of her world before the falling. Agents, associates of varying levels pass and she’d do the more somber part of her job: She’d attend the service, pass on her condolences to the family (and those on behalf of her department or chain of command when needed), then she’d take her leave, often before refreshments were even laid out. 

That’s what made this time different- she’s still here. Still.. mingling. And not just because she’s avoiding having to walk back in the rain. She’s here, walking through the crowd, returning muted, polite smiles or heavy nods of acknowledgement. Charlotte knows she’s not exactly needed here- she’d only been here a little over a month, no one knew her well enough yet to need her.

But that’s what a community does, right? Especially one this small. Something happens, and the residents band together. New and old. And this is her community now. So she’s here.  

Slowly, hands empty save for the light jacket draped over her arm, she makes her way to the portrait of the man this wake is honoring, and stops next to another who seems frozen, suspended in thought. To not startle him, Charlotte takes a moment to size up the sketch before speaking.] 

It’s well done, hm? The portrait. [She clarifies, still looking straight ahead.] It seems fair. [Though that’s only an assumption on her part. Her head turns to finally glance at whom she’s speaking to, and offers him a reserved smile.] Did you know him well?

[He hears he approach, but he doesn’t quite register it until she’s speaking. And though he wouldn’t say it’s a startled moment, exactly, it’s one he has to sort of pull himself from, bring himself back to earth with a refreshed breath and a little shake of his head.] 

Hmm? Oh—[he looks to the portrait, then back to her with a smile, polite smile. Which is weirdly what a lot of this is. Polite. Just like that blonde woman had suggested—despite being in the same house, Teilo had yet to get her name or meet her; a very private young woman, apparently—it is oddly polite, to be in remembrance of a man like Kaiser. Not that Teilo knew him. He’d known of him, hardly anything more. 

‘It seems fair’ is a somewhat strange choice of words. Fair? To who? Compared to what?] No,  I didn’t know him. It is good though. Better than I would have done, anyway. Though I don’t really have my mother’s artistic genes, so I don’t know that I’d be a good critic, regardless. 

dante-carrington​:

[He wishes he could do what Teilo suggests, and let someone else take care of him. It’s easy to joke about doctors being bad at looking after themselves, but the truth is that Dante wasn’t always like that. There had been a time when he could accept help. Times when he’d been stressed about uni and his mother had dragged him by force around a museum to distract him, then to a pub to have a drink and vent his worries. Times when he’d caught some bug at work and Calum would call in sick too just so he could go to Dante’s and bring him soup in bed.

Those were kindnesses he might have deserved back then. Now he just feels woefully undeserving of it all. Teilo looks at him with such warmth and kindness that Dante can’t even hold his gaze. There’s a new awkwardness between them that is entirely down to Dante; it’s never been there before. Even when they first met it hadn’t been like this – Dante had been detached and quiet because he found Teilo a little too much, as he found most Americans to be. Larger than life, in some indefinable way.

But it had never felt awkward. It did now, even if neither of them acknowledged it out loud. And it can never go back to the way it was before. It would be awkward, and then it would be cold. Teilo is sweet, and incredibly kind, but there are limits to forgiveness and Dante will push those limits far beyond the horizon.

He doesn’t mind that Teilo invites himself in – in fact it occurs to Dante only now that he’s grown so comfortable with their relationship that he never even thought to verbally invite Teilo to sit. It was usually just implicit. And in a way the company is welcome. Even with the new complexities of their relationship, Teilo’s presence is in itself something soothing. Though he doesn’t relish the thought of talking about Kaiser, it’s preferable to talking about the other, distinctly larger elephant in the room.] 

Well, apparently Clove was present during Kaiser’s testing – an EEG exam. I’m not clear on who started it, but one way or another Kaiser grew irate and threw a chair with his telekinesis. It seems that that prompted the aneurysm to rupture. [He assumes Teilo knows that much.] Medically speaking, it fits. Cranial aneurysms only rarely show symptoms so it’s entirely possible he had had the aneurysm for years. It wouldn’t have shown on any tests if it wasn’t being looked for specifically, and all it takes is a moment of particularly heightened blood pressure for it to rupture. Frankly I think he’s fortunate to have died as quickly as he did. Subarachnoid haemorrhage kills the majority of those it affects, but they do often survive a week or two, generally in terrible pain.

[It’s far easier to focus on the medical side of things. It reminds Dante of the comfort he finds in clinical work: science, statistics, black and white numbers.] You know I’ve lost a lot of faith in the NWRF, but I do genuinely feel there’s no subterfuge here. Whether the haemorrhaging was caused by Kaiser’s own highly-strung inclinations, or overuse of his telekinesis, I really couldn’t say, but either way the cause was on his personal end. Not the NWRF’s, not the Infection’s. He had an aneurysm; it was always liable to rupture. Obviously it needs to be looked into but I don’t feel it speaks to any particular danger of the Infections.

[At first, he’s surprised to hear it confirmed that Clove had been present, because so far, he’d only heard rumours, and he’d figured the rumours were fabricated. Mostly because they consisted of exaggerated ideas of Clove picking a fight with Kaiser, provoking him and threatening him until Kaiser collapsed. Which... really didn’t seem to track with Teilo’s impression of the NWRF Rep. With his impression of either of them, really. Even if tensions had risen, Clove wouldn’t have been interested in giving Kaiser that kind of time and energy. He’s not one to engage in that way. Much quicker to close himself off, to turn away when he doesn’t want to deal with the conflict. Acting above it, whether he believes it or not.

He’s also surprised he’d not heard the bit about the chair being thrown. If he had, he’d have been inclined to believe that was exaggerated rumour as well. 

Dante focused on the medical side of things. His prognosis based on the details he has access to, educated guesses and inference. And by the case he makes, it does make sense. It makes too much sense for Teilo to really be suspect of the NWRF’s involvement.]

Monday, April 10th Kaiser’s Wake, The Chapel Thread Status: Open

[The rain pounds at the roof of the chapel, echoing the heavy hearts and weighty silences in the air today. And Teilo stands, staring at the hand-sketched portrait of a man whom apparently no one really knew, a glass of red wine resting still and somewhat forgotten near his lips.

There’s meaning in this—in all of it—and though a part of him wants to inspect it inch by inch, he worries about what he’ll find. But one thing is for sure: today is the marker of change.]

roy--walters​:

[Teilo doesn’t seem off put by him. Not really. Which wasn’t Roy’s goal, obviously, but it’s still always surprising when people don’t mind his awkwardness or his abrasiveness. 

He even smiles a little at him, which Roy really wasn’t expecting. It really seems like Teilo is trying to get along with him. So maybe this isn’t just a pity thing. Maybe Roy needed to open up more to the idea that maybe people would be okay around him. Well… they would personally feel okay, Roy knows in the long run, being around him isn’t good for anyone. 

But maybe he could try to get along with Teilo. He was smart–maybe they had common interests? Maybe there could be something they could talk about? Roy isn’t sure. He hopes Teilo helms the conversation. That would probably keep it more normal and actually active. Roy had no problem just sitting in silence around others, letting the quiet company be what they shared. He isn’t sure if that’d make the steam room more or less awkward, though. 

Teilo’s hand is warm on his shoulder. It’s strange to have contact like that. To be touched at all but even more so skin against skin. He doesn’t think about it in a weird way, just it’s strange to him that something so normal could feel so foreign. It’s like when he and Orson started holding hands, just to feel that contact because they could. It was strange and unfamiliar–something so mundane that was almost a little jarring because it had just been so long. And Orson’s hand always seemed so warm. But maybe that was just because Roy was always so cold. 

Roy gives him a nod.] Okay. I mean, I should be fine. Haven’t you noticed I’m extremely calm and relaxed all the time, [He jokes in a flat, almost monotonous tone as he walks into the steam room.]

[It’s warm–obviously. But the steam already feels nice against his skin, especially after the day he’d had out in the rain. He gets what he means about the breathing thing. The air feels heavy in his lungs but he just goes to sit, hoping that will pass. It’ll be fine if it doesn’t. He doesn’t mind it. The struggle to breathe, just a bit. Something in him wonders if that’s what it feels like when you start to die. He doesn’t let that thought linger, though. Not when he’s about to spend time in a small room with Teilo. He’d hate for something to go wrong. Especially when Teilo was being so friendly with him.]

[Teilo lets out a surprised, but pleasant chuckle at the hit of sarcasm from Roy—and his eyes dart over to the Calyset because there it is—that feels like one of the first tastes of something real from Roy, a piece of a real person, that he hides away under this shell of... whatever he’s erected around himself, in the time and space of the apocalypse and the New Wave, or whatever it may be.]

Oh, I’ve noticed, not to worry, [Teilo plays along, amused.] Cool as a cucumber. [Having already hung his shirt up on a hook outside the door, Teilo wraps the towel around his waist and loses his shorts from underneath it, which he folds neatly and rests on the bench before sitting down. The other towel—the one he’d brought in for Roy—he sets on the bench nearby as well. He doesn’t want to hand it directly to the other, in case it implies a necessity to follow suit—which it certainly doesn’t. He happens to be more comfortable in a steam room just in a towel, but there’s no reason Roy should have to do the same. 

He tries to make it casual so as not to put Roy on the spot, and strikes up a conversation.] So—if it’s not too cliché, tell me about life before the Falling, for you. Who exactly was Roy Walters?

alois-the-real-boy​:

[[ Telio’s voice is quiet and careful, a care Alois doesn’t feel entitled to. He shifts in the pew, subtly nervous energy making it a struggle to sit still. He leans his elbows on his knees, fingers lacing in front of him. The thumb of his right hand presses a line across the palm of his left, feeling the pressure sensors react; self-soothing or grounding, it doesn’t matter because it doesn’t work.

‘What happened?’ Each time Alois thinks he knows where to start, he hesitates and then skips a little further back in time. Finally: ]] My family… my sister and I. We were never hugely famous, but we were recognizable… enough. [[ Alois in particular occupied an odd niche of fame, his face in magazines, articles and adverts, documentaries of his childhood. Lise was often recognized just by virtue of being with him. Another thing he can blame himself for. ]] There were times when we’d go out where we’d be followed. Photographers, reporters. I was more used to it than she was. She was more prone to… [[ He trails off, not sure how to put it, and ultimately shrugs. ]] Lise was sensitive. My opposite. [[ For the first time, Alois cracks a ghost of a smile, a tenuous thing. Lise was the fiery bleeding heart to his practical stoicism. She took after their father, and he, their mother.

Alois’ right hand runs over his face to chase the smile away. ]] I’ve heard people say that Delusions can be based on who the person was before. With Lise, she… [[ His words grow more halting, more difficult to string together and force out. ]] She started seeing things. Just shadows in her periphery, at first. Like she was being followed, or chased. She spent a lot of time trying to ignore them, probably… for my sake. Our Infections came about at the same time. At first I kept trying to tell her that maybe… it was her sight, like it was my hearing, but. [[ Alois swallows hard, shaking his head. ]] Months passed, and obviously that wasn’t true.

[[ He hasn’t looked at Teilo once since he started speaking, afraid of what he might see or of what to anticipate. Alois simply keeps talking, because if he stops, he’s worried he won’t be able to start again. ]] She became more and more skittish as time went on. Sometimes she couldn’t even look at me. Peoples’ faces… [[ He gestures at his own, with a lazy circle of one hand. ]] They’d change, she said. Their bodies, too. They’d twist into something horrible and indescribable. [[ Every time he’d pressed and Lise had tried, she’d just ended up a sobbing mess in his arms. His hands flex absently, emptily in front of him, remembering the weight of her. ]]

Slowly but surely, it drove her insane. [[ Alois presses his lips firmly together, like he wants to keep any further elaboration trapped firmly inside his mouth. It may seem like he won’t continue for a moment, but finally, he dredges up the words, drags them forcefully from his throat. ]] There were times where… all she could do was scream. And with my hearing, I… [[ He closes his eyes and lets out a shaky, defeated breath. ]] The pain was excruciating. [[ Even so, Alois obviously doesn’t think this is a good excuse. He still thinks it a weakness, a character flaw he couldn’t push past for her sake. ]] There wasn’t anything anyone could do. Nothing she could do. Nothing I could do. Other than… [[ Leave. He swallows the word down like acid, then forces it up again. ]]

Leave her behind.

[ ‘My opposite.’ On the contrary, Teilo has come to know Alois as quite a sensitive man. Underneath the cool facade, the stoic sullenness, is a bleeding, broken heart. At least, this is the Alois that Teilo sees, the one he has had the pleasure of getting to know. Perhaps many would disagree, but perhaps many do not know the Alois that Teilo does. Something whichTeilo does not take for granted.

He says the word, before he explains—’delusions’. And just like that, Teilo understands where this must be going. Death, abandonment, illness... he couldn’t be sure which, but what he does anticipate, is tragedy.

For a couple of moments, at least, he describes the things Lise was experiencing with a sort of detached neutrality. Fact, fact, theory—an attempt to better digest the truth, Teilo presumes. A way to make it easier to repeat. But minute by minute, Alois’ demeanour becomes increasingly strained. His fingers fidget, his knuckles whiten as they grip the pew, or the slick surface of his mechanized arm. The words are hurting him—but more than that, Teilo gets the impression this thing cloaking his friend like a blanket of barbed wire and tar is... guilt.

It becomes clear soon enough. Mouth gently parted, brows tilted and heavy, he aches for his friend in a way that makes him wish he were less analytical than he is. People may sometimes accuse Teilo of being charming and warm—a compliment about which he is flattered—but regardless, he feels somewhat inadequate with uncomplicated comfort. Something without opinion, or problem solving. Just simple, empathetic console.

But he feels this as much as he could feel anything else because Teilo knows the love and loyalty of siblings, and he knows the pain of leaving them behind. But he’d left Brenin not alone, but with their parents. Not petrified and suffering, but relatively safe and taken care of. He can not imagine this torment Alois must be feeling.]

bodelevy-lindqvist​:

[He shares his laugh, because it’s kind, it’s familiar and warm. He didn’t want to think about the heaviness of the day or the sinking feeling in his chest. He could do this, be this person capable of light conversation. He could have this if he wanted.] I appreciate your honesty, not many would admit that. I won’t bore you with the details of my position. [It’s not incredibly interesting if he were honest but it was a job that allowed him travel and gave him a wider berth than most infected individuals. For now that satisfies his needs.]

I know 7 languages, not thirteenth. [He leans back a bit, catching sight of the dreary sky. He wonders for a moment if it will rain again.] But your blind faith is noted, Mr. Embry.

[He glances back as the merchant steps forward to help Teilo, a light smirk plays at his lips.] If I was flirting with you, I promise I would be more forthright. [Bode catches Telio’s eyes, bright and thoughtful.] I’m not wrong, a fox suits you. [He looks back to the pin in his palm.] Vulpes Vulpes in Latin, but I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that. Such clever little things. Vicious and fiercely loyal.

Sound familiar?

[Teilo grins quietly at Bode’s words, as he holds his arm out for the Merchant to scan away his credits. He finds he likes the sound of the man’s voice. His accent, blended with the smooth, weighted tone of his voice; like liquid brimstone or gold.] Well, I’m tempted to say ‘I’m nothing if not modest’, but I know several people who would probably slap me in the face if I did, [he intones with a chuckle. The merchant offers him a coin-sized burlap bag for the purchase. Teilo politely declines.] But for the record, I’m an anal-retentive law student, Mr. Lindqvist. Details could literally never bore me.

[He flicks Bode a smile, before taking a moment to fasten the pin to the strap of his leather messenger bag, just over his breastbone.] It’s Aisling, actually—[he corrects, tone casual.] My surname, I mean. Embry is my middle name—but my mother was one of those people who had a fascination with middle names. [She’d thought they made names sound so ‘sophisticated’, she’d told him, more than once, with a wry grin and waggle of her brows—as though they weren’t a pretty sophisticated family, over all. But then, it’d been his father who’d come from money and sophistication. His mother, on the other hand, had grown up in a more modest environment. Comfortable, but simple. With maybe a sprinkling of country.]

So I was ‘Teilo Emby’ on all my grade school assignments and report cards. [He grins, stepping to slowly move away from the merchant table and continue meandering through the hub.] It still has a way of following me around. Not that I mind.