ArchivedLogs:Team Spirit: Difference between revisions
(Created page with "{{ Logs | cast = Ash, Hive, Jax, Lorna, Mirror, Flicker | summary = Part of Prometheus TP. | gamedate = 2014-04-30 | game...") |
No edit summary |
||
Line 79: | Line 79: | ||
"That feeling," Flicker says, light and quiet, "s'called having a team." | "That feeling," Flicker says, light and quiet, "s'called having a team." | ||
There's a bristling mental prickle of energy, for a moment sharp and -- pained? Discomfited? It clenches up tight-hurt at some of those faces that pass through Jax's mind, and then quiets. << Got more of a team waiting for you back here, >> Hive assures. << | There's a bristling mental prickle of energy, for a moment sharp and -- pained? Discomfited? It clenches up tight-hurt at some of those faces that pass through Jax's mind, and then quiets. << Got more of a team waiting for you back here, >> Hive assures. << This kind of shit, you don't ever go into alone. >> | ||
}} | }} |
Latest revision as of 21:56, 1 May 2014
Team Spirit | |
---|---|
Dramatis Personae | |
In Absentia
|
2014-04-30 Part of Prometheus TP. |
Location
Safehouse, somewhere in Tennessee | |
There are quite a number of stars overhead, out here in middle-of-nowhere, Tennessee. They glitter in bright expanse in a way the /city/ rarely gets and perhaps this is what has drawn Flicker out onto the porch of the two-story house the team has parked at. Shed of his uniform he's now pared down to just undershirt and his torn-and-bloody cargo pants. There's bandaging on his arm and his leg is propped up on a small table in front of the wicker chair he sits in; in his hands there's a cup of red beans and rice that maybe he should be eating from. But at the moment he's just sitting, head tipped slightly back to over past the porch roof towards the trees and the sky beyond. From the house just behind there's the noises of /people/, quietly talking, quietly eating. On the lawn in front of him a trio of refugees are, perhaps, just enjoying the freedom to BE outside; over near them another has fallen right /asleep/ in the damp post-thunderstorm grass. One of the van doors closes with a metallic chunk-chnk'ing as Ash finishes pulling out the last of the boxes of snacks prepared for pre-rescue nourishment. The little pouches of granola and trail mix and delicious cookies are set up next to the dinner pot so that anyone who wants just something light can partake however they like. As he is one of the very few relatively undamaged individuals in the group - the rescuers being sadly bullet and dart riddled and the labrats still trying to feel out their freedom and the extent of their personal states - he's had to keep things running for the most part: he drove people here while guiding the other van, got people situated while triage took place, and got dinner on the table while trying to keep everyone calm and orderly. Finally having a moment to breathe, he snags up a bowl of beans and rice and heads out to look up at the night sky as well. To say he's completely undamaged isn't accurate. Once Ash starts to relax, he finds bruises in places he had too much adrenaline to feel before. His face is scratched up from when his rock shield shattered. He's tired and also pushing back that creeping, old and familiar feeling of despair any time he walks into one of those facilities. He inhales deeply and pulls a chair over to sit next to Flicker, a small smile starting to pull at his lips, despite the bone-weariness starting to settle in as soon as he sits. "Oy, Speedy Gonzales," the flippant nickname sounds delightful as Ash plays up his father's heritage when he says it. "You gotta eat your beans and rice if you want to keep running so fast, okay?" Jax has been inside -- mostly puking, admittedly. In /between/ bouts hunched over the toilet, largely helping with sure /food/ is properly cooked and distributed to the group -- possibly these two activities are counterintuitive together. He's -- done a lot of delegating. And mostly attempted to avoid having to move. Or open his eyes. He's coming out now for some fresh air, bandaged himself around the neck and arm; his staggering has less to do with injury and more to do with a persistent dizziness and the fact that the /world/ no longer /looks/ the same to him as it has for the past decade. He draws in a deep breath when he's out on the porch of fresh post-rain air, moving over to THUNK-lean heavily up against the porch railing. "Hrrrng," is his greeting to the others, slumping forward with his head leaning over the rail. << Asshole got his damn leg shot, he won't be doing any running for a bit. >> Hive's echoing chorus-voice sounds dragging-exhausted, words kind of /slurring/ even in mental space. "My job is get people out of the cages. My job /isn't/ not-get-shot. That's what I have a team for," Flicker says -- actually /cheerfully/, he sounds like he's pleased with his team's work rather than /accusatory/ about the bullet wounds. "I've never walked away from a raid before, I'm feeling pretty good. Do you want," he leans in to offer this to Ash in a quiet SECRETIVE murmur, "/ribs/, we saved two whole /racks/ for Hive after lunch yesterday." << Fuck am I going to do with two racks of ribs that's. Way too much fucking pig. I can eat -- maybe two ribs, >> Hive decides. But with a quiet note of hunger beneath his words. Because even if it's /only/ two ribs, man does he want them. Ash offers Flicker a knuckle bump of success. "Amazing to hear, man. I'm glad this is your best raid to date. I thought it went okay-ish. Not quite as easy as the day that the guards were not on duty or going to be paid. Those hombres gave up so easily, felt like we could have made daisy-chains together." He grins at the concept of ribs, but his attention is pulled away by someone who isn't well. In this case, it is Jax. "Hey, dude. You need to sit? I was thinking about going on a gingerbeer run in a little while, when I'm sure the stores are open. I guess that's not very helpful, but come on over here, sit, and drink in the night air. It's pretty clean out here and the stars are amazing." He rises from his chair and moves over to help Jax if he needs it. << I will defend your ribs with my life, man. You shall have good ribs. At least four, in case you can't eat more, but want to try anyway. >> Lorna emerges from the house on unsteady legs, but awake for the first time in hours. As soon as possible, Joshua had wrapped her head in gauze, anchoring a thick bandage over her left eye. In her initial distress she had yanked the needle out, but obviously this is not ideal, yet it's done. After getting her bandaged, he gave her a precious shot of morphine when allowed her to sleep through some of the drugs worst initial effects. Though anyone inside would have heard her scrambling for the bathroom when she first woke up. Now though, Lorna finds her way onto the porch, looking green around the gills, and not just in the hair. She holds something in her clenched fist, which opens when she finally staggers to a bench out there. In her hand are two marble-sized iron ball-bearings, which she rolls in a flat orbit in her palm like homemade baoding balls. "Hey," she says in a tired voice, looking around at everyone. The greeting echoes in her mind, to Hive as well. "I thought Hive was out here with you all." She sounds distracted, disoriented. "I mean, I know he wasn't here, I just..." she blinks her good eye and winces at what that must have done under the bandage. Jax's shoulders twitch-shudder at the talk of /food/. He convulses reflexively, stifling another heave. "Oh my gosh ginger beer. If you find me /fresh/ ginger and I could make tea I would love you for -- all the love." He accepts the help to move into the chair, sinking down into it and slumping back with one hand in his lap and his other -- mostly just kind of bandage-slung across his chest. "Hive's here with us," he agrees, lifting his chin in greeting when Lorna shows up. "How're you holding up?" << You have, >> he informs Hive mentally, << /plenty/ enough ribs already I can count every single one of them when I see you. >> << Am here, >> Hive agrees with this assessment, the echoing sound of his mental voice chorusing with considerably /more/ people now than it had had before the raid. << Four whole ribs, shit. Be a goddamn feast. I ate green jello for dinner. >> "I like jello, " Flicker admits. "I've never really had. /Refined/ tastes." He leans forward to answer the knuckle bump stiffly with one of his own. "I've died on them before I don't think I set a /high/ bar." This acknowledgment comes with a wry look down at his gunshot-wounded leg. "Kind of nice here, though. Quiet. I like the world after a storm." << Is that a fucking metaphor? >> Hive sounds cranky about this. Flicker just twitches a very small smile. "Maybe." Ash heads back into the house with a quick shout of, "I'll see what I can find," when Jax asks for ginger, missing a little of the conversation. When he returns, he has a small clear package of candied ginger in his hands, fingers carefully pulling off the cardboard top and unstapling the mouth. He dips his clean fingers inside and offers a small chunk to Lorna as he passes her, before looking over at Jackson. "All we have right now is candied. I'll see what I can do, but I also don't want to leave the group just yet either. There might be problems," << with the labrats, with someone slumping into poor health, >> "that you guys might prefer me around for." He heads over to Jackson's side and offers him some of the ginger. "Any one you can walk away from, Flicker, s'good un." Mirror's arrival -- /re/-arrival, ze's been back and forth teleporting the worst of the injured team (and labrats yoinked from the middle of testing) back to the Clinic -- is quiet. No real sound or fanfare to announce anything; just, abruptly, there /is/ a Joshua standing quietly behind Jax's chair. /This/ Joshua looks in a good deal better state than the real Joshua, though, unharmed if faintly pale and peaked-looking, in plain canvas jacket and jeans. He leans heavily up against the back of the chair, looking out at the lawn thoughtfully. Lorna accepts the pinch of candied ginger with a tiny grimace. "I never really liked the taste, but it /does/ help for some reason." She shakes her head and immediate regrets it, dizziness making her right eye squint in /suspicion/ at the world in general. Probably for tilting like that. She pops the candy into her mouth and blinks when !Joshua arrives. "Hey," she says, with a weak wave. "Didn't mess with the bandage. See?" So proud! She mentally calls up Joshua's specific instructions to not pick at it, and her drug-hazed mind wants a gold star for following them. She turns to Jax and Flicker and Ash. "Did everyone else... is everyone ok? That last bit is... pretty fuzzy." "OhgoshIloveyou." Jax lifts his good arm to accept a chunk of ginger, nibbling a it with a good deal more relish. "My stomach seems to have taken up gymnastics." He closes his eye, chewing and swallowing slowly. "... is kinda a peace t'it, though, ain't there? I don't think that's a metaphor. Only jus', y'get through the chaos an' --" He draws in a slow breath, opening his eye again -- but closing it just as quickly with a faint paling of his face and a sharp spike of panic cutting through the otherwise-relaxation in his mind. Not so much because of any pain but because adjusting to the stark /difference/ of the world sans powers is -- not going so well. "Woah. Hey, honey-honey. How're /you/ feelin'?" He tips his head up towards Mirror!Joshua but this time doesn't actually attempt to open his eye. "Everyone's --" His brow rumples. "Alive." There's a faint slow squeeze of Hive's mind up against Jax's, leaning in in firm gauging pressure. << Alive's a start, >> he says, when he draws back. << Fucked up as hell, though. Evac'd the facility just fine. Five of the seven of you are depowered and puking your guts out. Not sure how much Joshua /wants/ to have walked away if he's walking away human. >> Flicker presses his lips together, shooting a concerned glance to Jax and Lorna. "Maybe it'll -- come back once it's -- worked out of your system?" he says, hopefully. There's silence from Hive, for a while. Then, << Aside from that shit everyone's mostly okay. Taking care of people down at the Clinic. >> "I think we might be mostly okay here?" Flicker adds to Ash, though he sounds a little uncertain. "We're mostly on our /feet/ anyway. And I wasn't hit. And he's alright?" He waves his spoon up towards Mirror. Ash laughs softly and pats Jackson's shoulder as he passes him, heading over to find himself another chair, setting up on the lawn where he can better keep an eye on the people in their group, in case he needs to act. He... just can't quite relax yet. "Ahh. No. I didn't manage to get pricked. Had a couple stuck in my armor, which I sent back to the school, but they might be more busy with emergency medicine for a little while yet." He frowns a little, settling his bowl of rice and beans into his lap. His mind churns over the concern of the drug's permanence, his inner compass leading him toward a more optimistic train of thought - well, as optimistic as one could be in the situation. "I don't think it's permanent. You guys will be all right. It'll come back. It's probably just something to pacify dangerous groups - and you have to admit, we're pretty dangerous to them." Still pretty out of it, Lorna seems able to only follow parts of the conversation, but gestures vaguely on the topic of the drug's effects. "I was never that up on my bio or chem, but yeah, it seems like those psycho's want to study the abilities..." she loses her train of thought and looks down at the baoding balls in her hand, as if surprised to see them there. "I can't..." << feel them >> except she doesn't mean 'feel'. Her mental concept of the word goes much deeper. "I've never felt so weighed down." She sounds exhausted. "You never say 'you're going to be alright' unless you actually know that's true," Mirror says to Ash, eyes still fixed outward. "Maybe true. Maybe not. Zero way to know. Pointless platitude. Entirely unhelpful. They've been searching for a way to cure us for years." For a moment hir gaze drops to Lorna, a faint tug twitching at the corners of hir mouth. There's a slow moment, internally, where ze has to /process/ two separate sets of memories; what /Joshua/ did for Lorna filtering back in through hir adopted-mindset, and then ze nods. "Good. Can fix your eye once --" Ze exhales, slow, lifting a hand to scrub at his cheek. "I am," ze aswers Jackson with a small smile, "exceedingly tired. Another couple jumps tonight. The rest will have to -- I can't. Till tomorrow." There's just uncomfortable tension in Jax's mind, a sharp-clenching almost irritable desire to /argue/ with Ash's assertion they'll be alright -- but this subsides into just a continuation of his panicky discomfort. Right now /he/ doesn't /care/ if he'll be alright in the future. He's not alright /now/. His hand scrubs against his temple, and he draws in a slow deep breath, fighting back the exhaustion-panic-irritation that is trying to surface. "Might be alright," is all he voices aloud, quiet and noncommittal. << But right now I feel like I'm drowning. >> "Hopefully they'll 'least be able t'study somethin' from the ones y'kept, Ash." His eyes stay closed, his breathing forced slower and deeper. Fighting nausea along with the rest. "S'alright, honey-honey. We're safe here. An' if y'bring someone back t'take the jet they can take a chunk'a folk /with/. Cut down on how many y'gotta bring." His teeth sink into his lip as Lorna says she feels weighed down, some idle thought going through his mind that he can relate. Though in reconsideration he decides for him it's kind of the opposite; instead of heavy he feels /untethered/, ungrounded, a sort of dizzying lack of /anchor/ with one of his senses missing. "'tween Doctor McCoy an' the docs at the Clinic maybe they'll --" But here he just fades off into unhappy-quiet. There's a small mental /rippling/ through the others' minds, fluttering there for a moment and then subsiding. It feels almost like laughter, though not a very /mirthful/ kind. Flicker stirs at his rice and beans, looking down at them though he still has ye to take a bite. He volunteers no further opinions on the permanence-or-lack-thereof of the drug, just frowning down at his food. << Not drowning. >> This quiet murmur shivers into Jax's mind alone. << Way the hell in the deep end, maybe. But whatever the fuck happens with all this, you've got people around to help you stay afloat. >> His words expand to the rest of the group after this, slower, oddly more /distant/-sounding. << Could all do with some sleep. I can hear anyone coming for a long-ass way around. >> "Oh. Lo seinto," Ash replies, gnawing on his lip as he looks over at Jax and then Lorna. "I've just... been saying it reflexively to all the people we pulled out. I guess it isn't really the best thing to say." He starts eating in earnest, despite not being hungry. The motions are mechanical, his thoughts starting to quiet as he tries listening instead of speaking for a while. "Good," Mirror answers, at the reassurance that this place is safe. "Because I'm --" Ze pushes away from Jax's chair, moving to nab hirself a piece of ginger from the stash Ash brought. "I'll make another trip. Is there anything you all need? That I could bring?" Ze drops a hand to squeeze absently at Ash's shoulder, rough-familiar gesture more ingrained in Joshua's mannerisms than hir own. "You all did good. That part at least I do know is true." Sitting up and talking some seems to have done Lorna a little good at least. She's certainly not in 'fighting shape' but it looks like she's following the conversation, and her mind is firing off recognitions. She reaches out to squeeze Jax's knee, misses the first time, and then manages a gentle pat. She swallows hard and says, "All the positive thinking and educated guesses don't really add up against how this feels inside. Just know you're not alone. None of us are. S'all I'm holding on to." She nods to Flicker and Ash and Mirror!Joshua as well. "And I won't forget you guys either. Pulling my ass out of the fire like that. I really... thought I was done. I can't really /picture/ it, but I remember the feeling. Knowing I was about to die. And then I wasn't." "That," Jax says with a very short huff that aaaalmost is a laugh, "I think we manage to hit that point once a raid at least. The oh-shoot-we're-all-dead moment. Somehow, we --" Though in his mind there are faces flashing; Peace and Eli, Jordana and Golem, Amila and Lisa, all his team members who /haven't/ made it out. His hand drops to rest over Lorna's for a brief moment, squeezing gently through that pat. "-- Y'got anymore of that ginger, Ash-honey?" He lifts his hand again to press the back of it to his lips. "That's -- that's somethin', for sure. Whatever comes, 'least -- 'least we ain't. Doin' this alone." "That feeling," Flicker says, light and quiet, "s'called having a team." There's a bristling mental prickle of energy, for a moment sharp and -- pained? Discomfited? It clenches up tight-hurt at some of those faces that pass through Jax's mind, and then quiets. << Got more of a team waiting for you back here, >> Hive assures. << This kind of shit, you don't ever go into alone. >> |