Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Sept 6, 2021 17:28:15 GMT -5
Kaladin gave a small frown, wishing he had a way to help Varian track these people down. It didn’t seem very easy to track someone who hadn’t physically been to your location. There were ways to track a stranger who had ventured into camp, even if they had covered up their footprints. L would probably be able to do it, even if he needed a little bit of help from Sherlock. The two of them thought in very different ways, but he thought that their thought processes would probably build on each other in that case. Even Kaladin knew how to lend a hand to track people, and he had no doubt that some of the younger members of the group had needed to learn to track in order to keep themselves alive. “Surely a device capable of that would have some sort of energy signal, right?” Kaladin asked, tilting his head at Varian. The kid had always been better with technology than Kaladin had, but he had heard him rambling about his chemistry and inventions enough times to be able to pick up on a lot of the basic concepts. If someone were able to bring people back from the dead, it seemed unlikely that they wouldn’t have left anything behind. “Maybe you can build a device capable of picking up on those signals. You’d need supplies, I know, but I’d be happy to go with you to get those. Unless you have them here.” That would be preferable, but Kaladin knew supplies weren’t exactly growing on trees. Varian had only been able to take as much as he and Kaladin could carry together, and that wasn’t a lot. Probably not enough to build something so sophisticated and complicated. “Don’t give up yet,” he added quietly, kneeling down so he was closer to Varian’s height. “Listen to me. You’re going to find those people, and you’re going to talk to them. I won’t back off until I’m able to help you do that.”
“Ha… yeah,” Noah replied, trying to imagine Nico and Gansey meeting. Gansey, without meaning to be, had a tendency to be very condescending. Nico didn’t like being condescended to, even more than most people. He had fought tooth and nail to get to where he was, and it was understandable that he didn’t want someone acting as though they were better than him just… because of what? Because they had been born into an affluent family, when affluent had any meaning at all? Noah shook his head of the thought. No, Nico most certainly wouldn’t like Gansey until Gansey brought up Glendower. Then they might get along a little bit better… Nico liked history, though Noah doubted he would admit it. He had seen Nico go off on tangents about ancient civilization, though. It was easier to think about how their old group would join with their new group. It was much, much harder to think about how Ronan would react if he was told the truth. The thing about Ronan Lynch was that he wasn’t a liar. He kept secrets, sure, but he never lied. This was a direct question. This wasn’t something Noah could just blow off. Why was he being selfish for wanting the cure? He owed Ronan an answer. “Before I found you again,” Noah murmured, rubbing at his cheek. He didn’t know how to do this. He didn’t want to hurt Ronan, but Ronan was blunt enough hat… that being straightforward about it was probably the only way to go. “I got bitten.”
Wylan didn’t blame Spook. It wasn’t his fault that he had cut himself. It wasn’t his fault that he had managed to get infected. They had gone out so far because they wanted some peace and quiet. Because the most beautiful place Wylan had ever seen was just outside of the boundaries of their camp. They weren’t supposed to go that far, but it wasn’t Spook’s fault that an emergency had happened the first time they did. The boundaries were there for one reason: to make sure that if someone got hurt, they didn’t get hurt too far away for anyone to find and help them. If they were within the boundaries, it was likely that someone would be able to find them and get them back to camp if they had been gone for too long. They had gone outside of the borders together, which meant that Wylan was still going to be able to make it back to camp. Thanks to Spook. If he had been alone… he strengthened his grip on Spook, unable to hold himself up entirely. Was that the fear or was that the infection? He didn’t have time to think about it as his foot caught on a rock, the weight of his body pulling him forward until he hit the ground, good arm reaching out to catch himself. He took in a gasping breath, eyes wide as he looked up at Spook and did his best to scramble to his feet. He was breathing hard, but it didn’t matter. They needed to get back to camp, and fast. Wylan didn’t have time to worry about the cuts that had opened up on his knees from the fall. “Promise me,” Wylan gasped as he began to run again, trying to keep his grip on Spook steady. They were getting close. They were, technically, within shouting distance. Assuming anyone was close enough to hear them.
Newt had shared more of his life with Sweets than he had anyone else. He didn’t know if that was because Sweets was like his brother or because Sweets was technically his therapist, but there wasn’t a clean, hard line like there used to be. He knew there used to be rules about therapists being friends with their clients, but they couldn’t really afford that rule now. They were such a small group that having anyone experienced in psychology was probably a good thing, even if it was someone who was likely to be somewhat biased because of his relationships within the group. He didn’t know if you really had to spill that much about yourself in therapy for it to work, he just knew that Sweets had been ablet o help him because of how well he knew him. There was still a long way to go. Newt hadn’t been completely healed, but he doubted that being completely healed was even a possibility. He was just… doing his best to get better. He was doing his best to make it in a world that hadn’t been built for humanity to survive. Had early humans needed therapy? Had they found people who were good with emotions and gotten it there? “I think someone needs to just… tell L and Orpheus they’re in love with each other,” Newt laughed quietly, though he knew it wasn’t as simple as that. Orpheus was still in love with Eurydice. He was still trying to find her. Trying to find a cure so she wouldn’t be suffering anymore. Newt wasn’t good enough with people to be able to figure out for them where L should fit into that picture. “You’re more in charge than you think you are,” Newt shrugged. “I guess we don’t really have an in charge in charge. But I do think we would sort of fall apart without you.”
Zuko glanced at Ronan and Noah for a long moment, then gave a firm nod as he began to walk away, keeping Sal’s hand tight in his. He wasn’t thinking about his feelings. There was no time for that, especially not when they were looking for their friends. They had to be alive, somewhere. They had to be near camp, because there were borders, and nobody was stupid enough to go outside of those borders. Well… Zuko couldn’t say that for certain. He knew that all of them were stupid enough to stray beyond the boundaries if they thought they had good enough reason. Was searching for their missing friends reason enough? If they all thought that the others had gone beyond the boundary, would they get lost out there? Zuko pushed the thought violently aside. “Varian might be in his tent,” he told Sal heading towards what he had come to think of as the chemistry tent. It was really Varian’s tent, but he and Wylan had spent so much time in there blowing things up that it had sort of just come to establish itself as the ‘chemistry tent.’ Sometimes Sherlock ventured in there as well, but he had his own, much more organized chemistry tent. “I don’t know where people would go if they thought everyone else was dead. Maybe… maybe they would have just stopped where they were, I… I don’t know,” he admitted, shaking his head. He had been lucky he had been with L. He had been lucky he’d had proof that it had happened, right there on his face.
Combeferre could see the tightening in Kelsier’s jaw that meant he wasn’t happy with the solution. While Combeferre understood why, he also knew it was the best way to keep Nico alive, and that was all they were trying to do. As long as both Kelsier and Nico were alive, everything else could be sorted out. Perhaps that was why Combeferre had been one of the strongest advocates for letting Kelsier stay with the group instead of kicking him out when he had hurt Nico. If they kicked Kelsier out, he was likely to either die or hurt other people. He had thought there might still be a way to heal him, or at least help him get better. There had been a few months where he thought he was wrong, but… it had turned out he was right. Kelsier was undeniably getting better. A small smile crossed his face at the thought. The situation wasn’t ideal, but Combeferre was confident that there would be a day in the near enough future where he wouldn’t need to sit by his side as Kelsier kept watch over a slumbering Nico. He was confident there was a future where Nico wouldn’t need to be afraid of his father anymore. This… this wasn’t ideal, but it was leaps and bounds better than they had been just a few months ago. A few months before, letting Nico this close to Kelsier would have been a death sentence for the boy. Combeferre could tell that Kelsier was working hard to get better, but recovery didn’t happen overnight. Until it did, Combeferre knew that he and Kaladin and Sweets would be at Kelsier’s side, ready to help whenever they needed it. “For the record,” he murmured, pulling out his old, battered dictionary and flipping through, “I think there will be a day when you don’t have to have anyone next to you. I… I know you have doubts, but I’d be more concerned if you didn’t. You are getting better. Taking it slowly… that’s just making sure that the healing sticks.” With that, he cast his gaze back down to his book and began to note things silently in the margins. He was going to let Nico sleep.
Hinata glanced behind him, feeling slightly bad for leaving Hunter on his own. Hinata knew he hadn’t been terribly affected by the room. Oh, he had hated his family as much as the rest of them did, but he hadn’t had to watch anyone else die. He hadn’t had to go through losing any of them and knowing that they were really his friends. He hadn’t had to deal with that over and over again. Once again, it seemed as though life was determined to save him from that sort of trauma. As grateful as he was for it, it didn’t seem fair that everyone he cared about had to suffer all of it, but he didn’t have to ache like they did. He wished he could take some of their burden for them. He wished he could make life a little bit easier. “So… we could go to one of the practice tents, right? In case someone decided they didn’t fight well enough in that room. If I thought that I could stop it from happening again by fighting better, that’s where I’d go.”
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Sept 11, 2021 1:05:07 GMT -5
“The problem with even beginning to look for it isn’t that they didn’t leave any sort of energy signal from it,” Varian replied, shaking his head a little bit more forcefully than was probably completely necessary. “Technology like that is totally unexplored. Completely new game, and I don’t know the rules. Maybe it left an energy signal, but I can’t track that unless I have some sort of idea what I’m looking for, and where I’m looking for it. Think of it this way. If I tell you to find a needle in a haystack, that’s hard. Like, really hard. That’s finding an energy signal with the tools I have here. Now imagine you have to find the haystack, too. And your only clue is that you’re pretty sure it’s on earth.” He sighed, rubbing his eyes and stifling a yawn as best he could. He didn’t think he was actually tired, it was just that the wild thrill of realizing that this really existed was wearing off, and in its place was the crushing sense of how very impossible this was going to be to actually find, unless someone decided they wanted to talk to him. Finding it on his own, or even with Kaladin’s help…he didn’t have a clue where to start. He opened his eyes again to look at Kaladin as he continued, and his shoulders slumped a little, but he gave a tiny nod. “Yeah…yeah, I know. I just…I really want to find them. This is big, Kal. I get that I can’t just fix all the bad, but there’s the teleportation, too. Imagine how much harder it would make it for zombies to corner you if you could go anywhere, at any time. This means someone out there is still making progress. People are still testing theories and building things and maybe making the word a little bit better, and maybe that means I’m not the only scientist left, you know?”
There was a reason Adam and Gansey had stepped on each other’s toes as much as they had. Ronan had never had that problem. He fought anything that breathed, but not like Adam had fought with Gansey, it was a very different situation, and they’d all known it. Maybe that was the difference. Ronan fought. Adam tended more towards fighting with. The only real times Ronan fought with was when it involved Declan, and that was because Declan was one of the only people in the universe who had both once been friends with Ronan Lynch and wasn’t currently friends with Ronan Lynch. The point was that Gansey didn’t intend to be condescending, but that occasionally only made matters worse for him. That opened up the possibility of him being condescending about being condescending. And so on. But it was just a throwaway question, anyway. It didn’t really matter. Those people…they were gone. They were never coming back. So they would never meet each other. That was it. He watched Noah instead, waiting for an answer. He didn’t think Noah would have one. He expected him to flounder for a moment before he came to the conclusion that there was no real way wanting a cure could be considered selfish. What he didn’t expect was what Noah said next. He stood still, looking at him. Like he was waiting for the next part. The part that would make the first part make sense. Because…it didn’t. It didn’t make sense as it was. “That’s not funny, Czerny,” he said finally, and his voice was suddenly sharp.
My idea. My idea, my idea. The words ran through Spook’s head like a promise or a threat or a prayer, matching the rhythm of his feet as he ran, his hand gripping Wylan’s hard enough to hurt, though he didn’t mean that part. He was just…scared. More scared than he could remember being in a very long time. Even more scared than he’d been in the room, because at least there, it had been Wylan’s idea that they’d needed to trust in. Wylan’s plan. And Spook trusted Wylan. He trusted his judgement. He was so distracted by his thoughts that he didn’t even realize he was falling until he hit the ground, wrenched down by the weight of Wylan’s fall. He caught himself as best he could, gasping for breath and scrambling back up as fast as he could, dragging Wylan along with him and breaking back into the run. Promise me. He couldn’t. Of course he couldn’t. The deep, irrational part of him almost hated Wylan for asking him to, as though he could simply make that decision. As though he could ever go back if Wylan didn’t… He couldn’t make that promise. But he could try and make sure he would never have to. “Help!” He yelled, his voice almost a scream as they got closer. “Help! Please, someone, help us! Please!”
Sweets, in fairness, had become friends with clients before. Close friends, even. It might have been a little bit harder in a sitting like this one, where he wasn’t a profiler as much as he would be a therapist, but even so…he could remain as impartial as he had to. He was confident he wouldn’t be biased. It was his job to not be biased. Even if he ended up talking to Sherlock. Yes…even then. Totally unbiased. There were naturally going to be fewer rules than there had been before. There had to be. If someone needed therapy before, they wouldn’t go to anyone they knew personally. That would mess the relationship up. But here, that just wasn’t really an option anymore. So he was going to have to work. “Yeah,..yeah, you’re probably right,” he admitted, shaking his head a little bit. “I mean, about L and Orpheus. It’s complicated. I’d love to help, but I don’t know if either of them would let me. Both for completely different reasons, but…maybe not so different. Both of them would have to confront a lot of really deep feelings and thoughts if they were to begin to let themselves confront the truth about each other.” It was possible he didn’t really need to be anyone’s therapist to psychoanalyze them. The therapy part would just mean he could talk about it. Still…he was already important, according to Newt. “Wow…I mean, thanks. But also just…wow. I guess I’ve never really been that guy, you know?”
Sal moved after Zuko, keeping pace with him. He knew that the others might have had it worse…he was more worried about the ones that had died later on. The ones that would know for sure that more people had died. Sal hadn’t known that. He had died second. He hadn’t known what happened afterwards. Then again, he’d also thought it was a nightmare. A very vivid one, but nothing he needed to cope with after he woke up again. If someone had thought it was real… He hesitated. Juuzou. Juuzou had died last. Juuzou was most likely to believe it had really happened right away. “Dammit,” he muttered, but he kept moving. They needed to do this right, and that meant being thorough, which meant camp first, and everything else second. They needed to check the tents. “I guess it depends on who,” he said after a moment. “I don’t think they’d all have the same reactions to it. I just thought it was a nightmare and tried to forget about it…if you hadn’t come looking for me, I might not have found out for hours.”
Kenma didn’t know how affected he had been by it. It had happened, and he had been there for most of it, but..he wasn’t sure. At least for the moment, he didn’t need to know that. He could just help Hinata search. Leaving Hunter behind meant they could at least know someone was keeping on eye on the camp, though. He felt better about letting Hinata stay on the move, as long as he knew someone was there to stop them from continuing to miss each other every time they got back to camp. He gave a nod, staying just a little bit behind Hinata, to let the other boy lead the way. It made sense. Though he doubted his reaction after that would be to pick up a weapon, he understood why someone might be tempted by the idea.
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Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Sept 27, 2021 23:38:50 GMT -5
Kaladin listened, brows furrowing as Varian described the impossibility of the situation. They could spend the rest of their lives trying to track these people down, and there was absolutely no guarantee they would succeed. There wasn’t any sort of trace to track, and even if there was, they didn’t have the technology to find it. It was a fool’s errand, but… Kaladin would follow through with it if it was what Varian wanted. If it would make Varian happy. Kaladin may have thought it was a fool’s errand, but that by no means meant he thought Varian was a fool. He just… thought Varian was ambitious. “So this could take a while,” he commented after a moment, crossing his arms as he tried to think of a solution. He wasn’t the most creative person in the world, but he didn’t actually believe that anything was impossible. There would be a way to do this. There would be a way for Varian to make contact with whoever had invented this technology. Kaladin would be there to defend him when he did because he… well, he wasn’t as idealistic as Varian was. Varian may have believed that the wielders of the technology hadn’t thought of the repercussions of their actions, but Kaladin wasn’t idealistic enough to believe that they would care when they were made aware of the pain they had caused and the danger their technology posed. If someone went far enough to invent something like that, chances were they weren’t going to care about the opinion of someone who wasn’t capable of that level of scientific achievement. Or maybe it was just that Kaladin had been talked down to too many times. “You know you’re not even the only scientist in this group, right?” Kaladin asked, amusement touching his tone. “Don’t worry, I won’t let Wylan, Sherlock, or Combeferre know you said that. Heck, I won’t even tell L.” His expression grew more serious just moments later. “Do you have a plan? Of any sort, I mean. Do you know where we can start?”
Adam fought with Gansey. Ronan fought everyone. Gansey got in the middle of things. Noah… Noah tended to just exist on the sidelines. He had never liked fighting. He had always been afraid of confrontation, and that meant that his friends, even Ronan, usually tried not to provoke a fight with him. It meant, however, that he couldn’t always predict when people were going to argue or disagree with each other. He couldn’t foresee fights unless they involved Ronan. If it had a heartbeat, Ronan had probably picked a fight with it. Did zombies have heartbeats? If they didn’t… then anything that moved on two legs. The point was, the only fights Noah could predict were the kind that were inevitable. He shook the thought from his head. It didn’t matter to him if their old family got along with their new family in theory. What mattered was what happened in practice. He wasn’t ready to admit that his old family was gone. If he found Cabeswater, then they could get them back. Noah would wish for a cure, and even if he cured himself first… surely there would be a way to cure everyone else, too. He couldn’t let himself believe that Gansey and Adam and Blue were gone for good. They were zombies, at the worst. In all likelihood, they were still human. Human and looking for Noah and Ronan, just like Noah and Ronan were looking for them. Maybe they had even gotten lucky and found a great group, just like Noah and Ronan had. Maybe their family was going to double in size as soon as they reunited. “I wasn’t joking,” Noah replied quietly, his thoughts cutting off abruptly. “I don’t… I don’t joke about things like that. I got bit. Before I found you again.”
Wylan hadn’t meant to pull Spook down with him. That was what he was doing, though, wasn’t it? He had let Spook have a beautiful moment when they were dancing, and then he had torn it all away when he’d gotten infected. He had pulled Spook down by virtue of linking his hope with his own. If Spook fell now… if Spook never got back up to dance again, that would be all Wylan’s fault. That was one reason he had to survive. One of many, of course, but… even if Wylan had misheard, even if Spook didn’t love him, his death would still hurt him as his best friend. He didn’t want to hurt Spook. The last thing he wanted was to be the reason Spook was in pain, but he didn’t know if there was anything he could do to avoid that. He felt like a bowling ball, hurtling forward and knocking over all of the pins in his path. He didn’t want Spook to be a pin. Did that metaphor even make sense? He couldn’t tell if he wasn’t thinking straight because of the adrenaline or because of the infection. It was possible it was both, but if the infection had reached his brain… he pushed forward with as much strength as he had, holding Spook’s hand tightly in his. “Get… get Sherlock!” Wylan screamed, his voice joining Spook’s desperate screams. If anyone was going to do something risky to save him, it was Sherlock, if only to prove he could.
Newt could see why there had been rules before. He could also see why there had to be far fewer rules now. Nobody was just going to bare their trauma to a complete stranger. You’d have to be completely insane to even think about doing that. Especially since that stranger probably had a ton of trauma of their own. No, you were going to share it with someone who you trusted not to use it against you. Someone who knew you and knew how to help you because they had spent the time getting to know you. Someone who had seen you in the situations you needed to talk about. He wondered if there ever would be a field of therapy or psychiatry again. Psychology, sure. There were bound to be plenty of interesting things to study after the apocalypse, but… Newt couldn’t imagine that very many people were going to be willing to pay a stranger to tell them what they had been through. Newt didn’t think he’d be willing to use his money that way, if he had any. Maybe that was just because he had Sweets, and he didn’t currently need to pay him. “Right,” he said after a moment, giving a small shrug. “Was falling in love easier before all of this?” he asked, eyes wide as he looked up at Sweets. He knew that it wouldn’t have been simpler for him – one benefit of the apocalypse was that people didn’t have the energy to be homophobic – but surely it had been simpler for other people. “If they had met when the world was normal, do you think they’d be together yet?”
Zuko didn’t know what he thought was more likely. Was he the only one who had sustained an injury that would be immediately obvious? Other people had been hurt, yes, but nobody else had been scarred on the face… at least that he remembered. If they had… if they had, then they might be freaking out, if they had noticed it. Or if they had been with someone else who noticed it. Hopefully, not everyone was running after everyone else. Hopefully, some of them had just thought of it as a dream, as Sal had. Hopefully, it was Zuko and Juuzou who had it worst, because they were the last ones left alive. “Let’s hope that most people thought it was a dream,” he muttered, squeezing Sal’s hand once and nearing camp. They were certain that Ronan and Noah were okay, so they just had to find the rest of them. He headed towards the chemistry tent, trying not to walk so fast that he pulled Sal behind him, but he knew his attempt wasn’t very successful. He was worried, and worry was making him move faster than strictly necessary. He tore open the entrance flap to the tent, scanning the inside to see if anyone was there. “Shit.” He glanced back at Sal, worry beginning to crease his features.
Help. The words rang through Hunter’s ears, desperate and clear as day. He looked behind him, trying to see how far away Kenma and Hinata had gotten. Too far to do much good, that was for certain. He cursed under his breath, then raced towards the sound of the cries. He didn’t know who it was, but as he got closer the sound resolved into a voice he recognized, and two forms clearly materialized. Wylan. Wylan and Spook, only Spook was the one yelling and Wylan didn’t look too good. He heard Wylan’s voice just a moment later, higher pitched and almost more scared than Spook’s. Or maybe it was just a little bit weaker. He could see crimson on Wylan’s hand. He had heard what they said, but… “Sherlock!” he shouted into the med tent, hoping that would be enough to make the former detective aware that something was going on. “Ready a medical set up!” It was a shame Sherlock was the only one left. If they needed medical care… both Kaladin and Combeferre were busy. Sherlock hadn’t seemed to know where they had gone. Hunter shook the thought off, springing forward to meet Wylan and Spook halfway, hoping he could help bring Wylan closer.
Hinata dived a little further ahead, practically bouncing on his feet as he waited for Kenma to catch up. He didn’t actually know if there was going to be anyone in the training area, but… he could hope, right? If they found someone, that meant they would have one fewer person to search for. That meant they had confirmation that at least one more person was safe. Hinata, ever the optimist, was inclined to believe that they were all safe, but… he couldn’t afford to believe it until he had seen it with his own two eyes. He needed to see all of them. He needed to make sure that they had all come out of that alive. He hadn’t been there to watch them die. He hadn’t been able to help them at all. “Nobody,” he sighed, pulling aside the flap to reveal an empty tent. He supposed it made sense. The sight of the weapons in the corner made him nervous, and he hadn’t even been there for that long. He hadn’t even had long enough to pick up a weapon himself. He’d still been in the process of choosing.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Oct 25, 2021 23:29:57 GMT -5
The idea of giving up was unbearable to Varian. It had to be technology, didn’t it? What other explanation could there be? He’d always believed it was possible. And here were zombies, dead and alive, and more than one member of their group was working to cure them, and teleportation seemed like the least impossible thing they had to deal with. No one had believed the world would end, either. Surprises were easier to believe when they were bad ones, now, but Varian had lived it, and so had his friends. They had the proof of it in the form of scars. He blushed as Kaladin spoke, realizing what he’d said. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he protested, though he knew that wasn’t quite true. He hadn’t intentionally excluded Wylan or anyone else, but he hadn’t been thinking of them, either. “But…yeah, don’t tell them. I guess I’m not so used to having people around who care about science the way I do. Even if it’s been a while.” Kaladin was there. Kaladin wasn’t leaving, even when Varian admitted he didn’t know what he was doing. He felt it deep inside of him…a warmth, almost. “Okay,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I think we should go back to where I was when it happened. If there’s any sort of trace at all, it should be easiest to find there. And we need to find out where everyone else was, too. Maybe we’ll get lucky and there’ll be a pattern we can see once it’s all laid out in front of us. I’ve been trying to get an old radio to work, I’ll bring that just in case. Even evil geniuses need a way to talk to each other.”
It wasn’t possible. Noah, bit, that wasn’t possible. Even if Noah had said he’d been bitten recently, Ronan would have pretended to reject it, a truth too bitter to be real, a promise of a future he’d done everything to avoid. But before? Noah was bitten or Noah was lying. Ronan wasn’t stupid enough to consider that he could be wrong. How could you be wrong about a zombie sinking its teeth in you? He stared at him. He looked the same as he always did. Smudged cheek, blue eyes. Rumpled clothes, genuine expression. A Noah who lied was as impossible as a Noah who’d been living with a bite for months. Then again…if Noah was bitten, that too was a lie, if only by omission. He had never really left the others behind. Gansey, Adam, Blue, they existed inside him. In the five syllable words he sometimes spoke when he wasn’t careful. In the way he didn’t hesitate when they found a car they thought they could use, if only they could figure out what had frustrated every other survivor who’d had the same thought. In the way some abandoned shirts hanging in abandoned stores in abandoned cities made him pause, eyeing the tears, trying to tell if they were intentional. But he didn’t need to find things that reminded him of Noah. He didn’t want crumbs of something he was used to having all of. He wanted it to be yesterday again. “So you’re immune,” he said finally, his voice rough where he’d ripped the pain from it. “That’s a good thing. Hell, man, maybe your blood is the cure. Does L know?”
Spook felt afraid often enough to know exactly how deep it was now. This was the sort of terror that didn’t fit inside you, that demanded to be released, but was impossible to get rid of. This was nothing but his heart, beating through his entire body, deafening him until he couldn’t tell if anyone was answering his screams. He was anything but quiet now. There wasn’t time. The seconds refused to stop and the black continued to spread, inching closer and closing to Wylan’s heart. Every moment was irreversible and deadly, panicking for even an instant could be the end of it. How much time was left? Was it too late already? How close did the black have to be before it was? He blinked, trying to stay focused, to not get lost in his own head, because there was nothing Wylan needed there, and everything out here. He caught sight of Hunter and impossibly he sped up, forcing himself to sprint past his own limit. He would have carried Wylan if he hadn’t known that would make them both slower. “Hunter!” He shouted, his voice too ragged to still count as a scream. “Hunter, Wylan’s hurt, he’s really hurt…”
On the one hand, falling in love had probably been easier before. You didn’t have to balance it on top of surviving, and you didn’t have to worry about the person you were falling for getting a better deal with another group and leaving. Plus…there had been less casualties before. Caring about people was a lot more dangerous now. He glanced at Newt. Of course…things had always been dangerous for some people. “Falling in love? No,” he replied, shaking his head a little. “Maybe deciding what to do about it, I guess, but probably not actually that much. For them…no. I don’t think they would.” It probably wasn’t quite what Newt wanted to hear, but he’d been a psychologist for too long to think things would have been simpler before. “There’s a lot of complicated emotions that come with being in love, no matter what. Those feelings can be overwhelming a lot of the time, especially when you know the person already. If you’re friends with them, it can be hard to tell of what you’re feeling is actually romantic or not, and then if it is, you don’t want to push them away if they don’t feel the same way. And it’s even more complicated for the two of them. Orpheus still loves Eurydice. It’s not easy to make his love for L and his love for her make sense at the same time. If he’d been grieving her, it would be easier, but he doesn’t know for sure that she’s dead, so he can’t move on. Both sets of feelings are real, and both are overpowering. It’s like he’s standing on a frozen lake, and he’s trying not to let the ice break, so he’s not moving either direction. And, L…well, okay, I totally can’t read him, his poker face is incredible. But he’s paranoid. You can tell that by how he interacts with others and his surroundings. For a lot of people, paranoia can come from one of two places, anxiety, or trauma. Of course, trauma can also cause anxiety, but…the point is that, if he’s afraid to trust someone enough to let them see his expressions, imagine how afraid he’d be to trust them with his heart.” He sighed a little. “They’re both afraid to say anything. But someone is going to have to eventually. I just don’t know which of them will break first.”
Sal didn’t mind them moving fast. They needed to, to get there in time if someone was hurt, or even just panicking. If Sal hadn’t believed it was a dream, and Zuko hadn’t found him…what would he have done? He thought he’d have gone back to camp and started looking. But it was hard to know for sure. He wasn’t panicking now, so it was impossible to say exactly what it felt like. He waited as Zuko scanned the tent, his lips pressing together at the look. Not there then. Where would they have gone? He knew none of them would have reacted the same way to it, which made looking harder… “Maybe if we just start with one person?” He suggested after a moment, searching Zuko’s eyes. “We all have different places we feel safest in. Maybe if we pick someone, we can figure out where they’d have gone?” He hated the idea of deciding who needed the most support. That wasn’t a fair question to anyone. But the last thing he wanted was to wander around looking when someone else needed them, and he didn’t know how else to look faster.
Bored. Sherlock lay in the middle of the tent, eyes closed, hands folded over his chest in a way that would have suggested peace if they had been less twitchy. Zombies and their rotting brains…he knew the feeling. And where the hell was Combeferre? Or Kal - Kaladin, he reminded himself, Kaladin, Kal was what Varian called him and Varian was one of the few people Sherlock had failed to insult in some way (much), so Kal had gotten stuck in his head. Of course, it was sometimes intentional, when the other man was being irritating. But the point was that it wasn’t always. Not that he ever apologized even when it wasn’t. He saw no reason to. He heard his name being called, but didn’t otherwise react to it. He was aware that he was being used as third best, because the other two people with any medical history had vanished. Sherlock didn’t have any medical history, but he’d saved Nico’s life, hadn’t he? In one sudden, fluid motion, he sat up and moved to the front of the tent, poking his head out to see who was yelling. He squinted at the boys approaching, shielding his eyes. They looked…not happy. And he supposed playing doctor was a lot less boring than waiting around for the motivation to work on a cure. He turned and began to shuffle through the supplies.
Hinata had always been impossible to keep up with. Kenma remembered their first game, seeing the other boy blur from one end of the net to the other in the blink of an eye. It hadn’t ever been Kenma’s job to catch him, but he had understood immediately that it needed to be done. Being tired was at the bottom of his list of immediate worries. That didn’t mean he had to like it. He gave a sigh soft enough that it barely counted as a sigh at all, and sped up to avoid being left too far behind. He made it to the tent just as Hinata pulled it open, and stopped. Oh, weapons. He had known they would be there, of course. They looked exactly as they had looked the last time he’d seen them, only in a different order. It seemed Nico had practiced with his sword at some point; the weapon was pointed in a different direction now. He was slightly interested to discover he was having a reaction to the sight of them. A very bad, very hard to describe feeling, wrapped around his heart like a hand, squeezing. He was probably going to need to fix that before it became a problem.
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Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Nov 2, 2021 1:16:00 GMT -5
Kaladin didn’t know how likely any of it was, but he had spent a large portion of his life not believing in zombies. This sort of technology… well, as far as he was concerned, it might exist. If anyone could figure out where that technology was and how to use it to help them all, it was going to be Varian. The kid was more skilled and capable than anyone gave him credit for. Including himself. Varian was externally confident, but Kaladin was fairly certain that half of the reason he was so determined to find the technology was because he believed he had to do some good to make up for the things he had done in the past. He had to prove himself. Kaladin shook his head just a little bit. There was nothing he could do to convince Varian that he didn’t need to prove himself. He had forgiven him almost the same day it had happened, though he knew why the boy still blamed himself. “Would you like me to come with you to where you were, or would you like me to try to find out where some of the others were?” Kaladin searched Varian’s expression, trying to determine where he might be most helpful. He wanted to keep an eye on Varian, of course, but he had a feeling that some of the others might need an adult presence as they realized that whatever they had been through had actually happened. Then again… given what had happened with Ronan, maybe it was best for Kaladin to stay with Varian. “Do you need help working on the radio?” he asked after a moment, brow raising. He was a doctor by training. It was hard to feel like he wasn’t being useful. “I used to actually use them before the world ended.”
Noah stared at Ronan, watched him purposefully misunderstand what he was saying. If Noah was immune, then he wouldn’t have the sleep walking episodes. Then his cheek would have healed. Any number of things. He shrunk in on himself, rubbing at the mark on his cheek. Maybe he shouldn’t have told Ronan the truth. Maybe he should have just let his friend believe he was completely okay. Maybe he should have kept lying by omission, no matter how much Ronan hated lies. He would have forgiven him for this one, right? He wouldn’t even have to know Noah hadn’t told the truth. If he had just kept his mouth shut, they would have assumed it was a new bite when they infection finally took over. “I don’t know,” Noah admitted, not able to meet Ronan’s eyes. “I mean… Crutchie’s immune, and it impacted him permanently, but he doesn’t wander off in the middle of the night. He doesn’t end up lying on the ground with no memory of how he got there. I don’t know, Ronan… I want to believe I’m immune, but I got bitten and nothing has been the same since.” He shuddered, trying to figure out if what he was experiencing was in any way analogous to Crutchie’s paralysis. He would have to either ask the boy or ask Sherlock to be certain, but he found he doubted that it was the same thing. He couldn’t afford to have that kind of false hope. Part of Noah wanted to rush forward and fall into Ronan’s arms, but he didn’t think he deserved that comfort at the moment. He also wasn’t entirely certain that Ronan would be willing to give it. It seemed far more likely that Ronan would be mad that Noah had hidden something so monumental. “Do you really think I might be immune?” Noah asked, voice smaller than he meant it to be.
Wylan stumbled forward, trying to keep up with Spook’s much longer legs. He was a faster runner to begin with, and now that he was sprinting it took all of Wylan’s energy to keep up with him and try not to fall behind. If he fell behind, then he might infect Spook, and they both might die… he squeezed his eyes shut, doing his best not to let his mind wander like that. He wondered distantly if the pounding of his heart was only going to serve to spread the infection faster, but he didn’t have time to stop running and calm his heart down. They could steady it when someone who knew what they were doing was looking at him. So long as they didn’t decide that killing him was the kindest course of action. “Spook,” he whispered, unable to make his voice much louder after the desperate screams that had issued from it just moments earlier. “You know… you know I’m really grateful for you, right? You know I wouldn’t be the same person without you.” He was gasping, the words coming through sharp intakes of air that didn’t seem to pull enough into his throbbing lungs as he ran. He wished he weren’t too much of a coward to say the truth.
“Oh,” Newt replied, trying to hide his disappointment. He had never been very good at that, especially around Sweets. Sweets was good at reading everyone, but for some reason Newt felt as though he was easier than most. It wasn’t as though he wore his emotions on his sleeve or anything – a lot of people found him relatively difficult to read, but Sweets had never had a problem. If it had been anyone but Sweets, Newt would have questioned whether he was bored by the fact that Newt was easy to read. Sweets didn’t seem to get bored with people, though. He seemed to genuinely enjoy almost every conversation he had, so long as the person he was talking to was actually being (mostly) nice. Perhaps that was why they got along so well. Newt had been finding reasons to respect Sweets since the moment they had met, even if he couldn’t hide it when Sweets said something disappointing that he hadn’t expected. “I guess the way everyone describes the way things were before, it’s easy to believe that everything was easier. Also I think Orpheus and L would be a lot happier if they were able to just… figure out what they feel.” It wasn’t right that Eurydice hadn’t just died. Newt kept that part to himself – he didn’t want her to actually be dead, but this in between… it seemed like the sort of thing that could easily kill Orpheus. It was getting in the way of him moving on and finding happiness with L. “Do you think it will work out when one of them finally says it?” Newt asked after a moment, grateful to have something else to think about other than his own mind. He didn’t want to consider all of the overwhelming things that might be wrong with him. L and Orpheus had a problem as definitive as Newt’s, but there was something that could actually be done about their problem if one of them decided to actually open their mouth. “I mean… it’s bloody complicated, I guess. But they both really care for each other. Even if Orpheus still loves Eurydice, do you think they might be able to work it out here? I guess… do you think love is still possible here? I’m not… interested myself, but if it isn’t, then maybe I really should want to go back to how things were before.”
Zuko turned to look at Sal, then gave a small nod. He wanted to point out that they might be more effective at looking if they split up, but the last thing he wanted to do at the moment was to be separated from Sal. He had already had to watch him die once today, he didn’t want to do it again. Even worse than watching Sal die would be to find he had decided to split up and hadn’t even been there to try to help protect him. No, they needed to stay together. Which meant they needed to decide who to go after first. “Well… Ronan and Noah are probably going to try to find each other first, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Spook and Wylan were off together somewhere as it is. They seemed to be talking directly to each other when they appeared, so… all four of them probably have support. I don’t… know who is the most likely to have been alone. Maybe Hunter? Kenma? Varian?” The more Zuko thought about it, the harder it was to pick someone to go after first. “I don’t want to have to just… pick someone,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. “But it’s a good idea. Maybe we should just… start with Varian? Just because he doesn’t have very many places he goes that are too far from camp.”
Hunter ran forward, eyes wide as he realized what was happening. He had been prepared for people to be freaking out about what had happened in that room. He had been prepared for people to come with scars they didn’t understand, and he would do his best to explain what he knew (which was, admittedly, not much). He was ready to try to help them find some sort of explanation. What he hadn’t expected was an emergency like this. This was the kind of emergency that could have happened whether or not they had experienced… whatever it was… or not. It felt out of place now, when they were all dealing with something that felt a lot bigger. He gave Spook a quick nod, trying not to look at where Wylan’s arm was turning black. He looked back to make sure that someone was coming out of the med tent (Sherlock wasn’t as good as the other two, but he might actually be the right person for this kind of emergency. He was a lot less likely to waste time being careful). That taken care of, Hunter rushed forward to help Wylan and Spook towards Sherlock. He didn’t say anything, just slung Wylan’s free arm over his shoulder and began to half carry his friend towards Sherlock. He knew there wasn’t time to ask what had happened, and he doubted that Spook was in the state of mind to answer. They could deal with the how when Wylan was taken care of.
Hinata was about to say something when he realized that Kenma was even more quiet than usual. The other boy was hard to read. Hinata’s expressions were exaggerated and difficult to mistake for anything else, even when he would have much rather hid his emotions. Kenma seemed to keep everything close to his chest, even his joy. It was hard to tell when he was feeling anything at all, but Hinata had known him long enough that he could tell something was wrong. He couldn’t immediately tell what was wrong, but given where they were… it wasn’t difficult to guess. “Hey,” Hinata said, his voice quieter than usual. He didn’t want to seem too cheerful now of all times. They still needed to find the others, and they weren’t gathering weapons. And Kenma was clearly upset about something, which was jarring in and of itself. He was Kenma. He didn’t get upset. “Maybe we should… uh look somewhere else. Since they aren’t here.” He hesitated for another long moment before slipping his hand carefully into Kenma’s. He wasn’t usually the type to initiate physical contact in such a gentle way, but he figured that might be the best way to help Kenma now. He gave a reassuring smile, pulling his friend out of the tent and letting the canvas flap swing closed behind them.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Dec 2, 2021 20:19:00 GMT -5
Varian couldn’t escape what he’d done. For now, there was no cure. For now, there was nothing they could have done for Tien, even if he had still been around. But the truth was that if Varian believed in the possibility of a cure, than he had to accept that he’d killed Tien. He could have brought him back. And now, no one ever could. Kaladin didn’t blame him, somehow. Varian believed him about that. But he had messed up, badly, and then he’d made it worse by just running instead of trying to fix it, and he’d assumed that was the right thing to do at the time, but… He had to make up for it. He had to give back, to save someone, maybe even everyone. He had to prove that he could do something right. Kaladin’s question filled his chest with something warm, something a little bit like pride, even if he would never have admitted it. To be seen as someone to make those decisions, as a leader, by someone like Kal, who was the most impressive, capable person Varian had ever met… He cleared his throat, standing up a little straighter. If Kaladin was trusting him, he would make sure to do this right. He couldn’t let him down again. He wouldn’t. “I need you to go look for the others,” he told him. “I can do the radio by myself. And then you can mark all the places they were when they disappeared, and if I can’t find a trace we can start looking for a pattern. Can you do that?”
Noah couldn’t be immune, not truly. Being immune wouldn’t cause symptoms, and Noah had them, even of Ronan had failed to understand what they meant. How many symptoms did he have? Had he hidden any? Would I have ever figured it out? “Does anyone else know?” He asked finally, an edge to his voice. It wasn’t the sort he’d put there on purpose, but he couldn’t expect Noah to know that. He was bitten. Ronan’s eyes found the smudge, and suddenly it seemed obvious what it was. How hadn’t he seen it? Why had he never thought to wonder what it was? When had he gotten used to the sleepwalking, when now it seemed so clear what it meant? He just wanted to know what was going to happen. He just wanted to know if he was going to lose Noah, too. “I don’t know!” He snapped, his voice harsher than he’d intended it to be. He wasn’t angry, but he was. At least, he knew how to be. He didn’t know how to be whatever he’d been a moment ago. “How should I know? You’re the one bitten! You tell me! Are you immune?”
It wasn’t fair, that Spook was probably one of the faster members of their group and yet he couldn’t use that now, he couldn’t carry Wylan without slowing them both down, he couldn’t slow his heart, how could he hope to slow Wylan’s heart when his own seemed bent on speeding up whenever they were near each other? He shoved that thought away. There was no room for it here, not now. The whisper felt louder than the scream had been. He didn’t stop, but he looked at him, his brown eyes wide as they searched Wylan’s blue ones. “Please don’t stop,” he whispered back. “We’re close. We can make it, if we just don’t stop…” And then Hunter was there, and Spook’s eyes snapped to him, wide and filled with more fear than he knew how to express. He moved, taking Wylan’s other side and beginning to half carry him forwards again.
Sweets knew it probably wasn’t what Newp had wanted to hear. And who could blame him? It would have made a happier story if things had been perfect before, even if they weren’t now…at least it would seem achievable. At least he’d be able to promise it could happen, even if he couldn’t promise it would. But he couldn’t. Because things before…they’re been hard, too. Just in a different way. He had to think for a long moment as Newt continued. “They both care deeply for each other,” he said finally, letting out a quiet sigh. “You don’t have to be a psychologist from the FBI to figure that out. I wish they’d talk to me about it. Maybe they couldn’t exactly have couple’s counseling, because…I mean that’s the problem. But I could help them have that conversation, if they’d let me.” He gave himself a small shake, quieting those feelings. It wasn’t that he wasn’t used to it, he just wished someone would actually allow him to do his jobs. Even if the world had ended. To be fair, he’d probably have had less of a job to do if they did. “It is complicated. And it’s scary for them both. I think they need to overcome those feelings for themselves, before they can start to decide how to proceed. Otherwise, anything they start is just going to exacerbate all those strong emotions and might actually push them away from each other. But if they can work them out first…then yeah. I really think it could work. They…actually kinda remind me of another couple I used to know. They made it work.”
Sal knew there was a chance they could find more people if they split up, but something stopped him from suggesting it. He didn’t want to do this alone, somehow…he didn’t want to find out that it had been a warning. That one of them really would die, today, and not in a way they could wake up from, good as new. He really didn’t want to be alone. He could make it sound better in his head. Maybe he just didn’t think it was a good idea for any of them to split up, when they were trying to find each other. But that was what it came down to, and he knew, if Zuko suggested splitting up, he’d be forced to agree that it was probably a good idea. He could get away with not suggesting it himself, though. “Yeah, I…don’t feel great about picking someone, either,” he admitted. “I just don’t want to wander around for hours without finding anyone. But if you would rather try something else…?” Varian was probably a good enough place to start, though. “Varian. Or…or Juuzou,” he added, wnd instantly almost wished he hadn’t. “I just mean…I didn’t see much, but…”
Kenma didn’t blink. He didn’t seem to need to, somehow, though he didn’t notice it. It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t anger, or sadness, or really any emotion, he didn’t think. It was merely the weapons and the way they seemed to make it very hard to move. He could see a couple he knew for sure had been in the room. It wasn’t as though they had anywhere near that many…there had been things in the room he hadn’t even had a name for, though he didn’t think anyone had been killed with any of those. But Juuzou’s knives were incredibly recognizable. He wondered, vaguely, what one was doing here. He had assumed the other boy kept them all on him at all times. He didn’t pull away from Hinata, though he didn’t react. He wasn’t sure what he would have done, if he had tried to react. Looked at him, maybe. People were always looking at each other when they spoke. He moved as Hinata pulled, and watched the tent close behind him, closing off his view of the weapons. He blinked, once, twice, and looked at Hinata. “Maybe we should look somewhere else,” he murmured, searching the other boy’s expression.
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Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Dec 14, 2021 3:42:23 GMT -5
One thing Kaladin had learned over the years was that everyone truly had their own strengths. It was something he had known before, of course, but it was just something that his parents had told him. ‘Oh, Kal, you can’t think that the kids who are good at sports are better than you just because they do sports. Everyone has something they’re good at, and our family is good at medicine. Don’t you want to go to med school?’ They had been right. Never before had Kaladin wanted so much to have actually gone to med school. He’d never get that chance. He just had to make do with what his parents had taught him. What he had picked up by himself since this whole mess had started. The point was, everyone in their group had their own strength. Everyone brought something to the group, and they wouldn’t be as cohesive a unit if even one person went missing. (Although… he had his doubts about how much Kelsier offered). Varian was no exception. Varian’s expertise was scientific in a way Kaladin’s wasn’t. “I can do that,” Kaladin confirmed, dipping his head. He didn’t like the idea of leaving Varian alone, but he was confident now that Varian wasn’t just going to wander off on his own. He had a goal in mind, and Kaladin knew he would take care of that first before doing anything stupid. Although chaotic, Varian’s mind worked logically. It wasn’t too difficult for Kaladin to figure out. “I’ll let you know when I find everyone. Is there somewhere you’d like to meet when we’re both finished?”
Noah flinched, eyes wide as he stared at Ronan. He knew his friend didn’t mean it, not really, but it didn’t make the words sting any less. He hadn’t meant to hurt Ronan… it probably would have been easier if he had just wandered off when he had first found Ronan. If he had stayed long enough to assure his friend that he was alive, that the others might still be alive too. If he had backed out then and there, before Ronan could get used to having him back. Before he could hurt him. Before he had met anyone else in their little family. He had been the first to die in that awful room. He didn’t know what it felt like to lose the others. He didn’t know if the room was some sort of indicator of the future. If he was really going to be the first of them to die. “I… no, I haven’t told anybody else,” Noah replied, voice quiet. “I… I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he breathed, pulling his arms close to his chest. “I was just… running, and Whelk… he thought the zombies would be easier to outrun if they had someone to attack, it… it was logical…” Noah trailed off, his voice barely more than a whisper. He didn’t want to believe that Whelk had made the right choice. He just knew that Whelk had chosen his own life over Noah’s. How could he blame him for that?
“I’m sorry,” Wylan murmured, eyes wide as he watched the black spread through the veins in his arm. He wasn’t sure if he could feel it or if it was just his head telling him what he should feel and making him believe in it. He let his eyes close for just a moment, then forced them back open as Hunter took his other arm. It was humiliating, being half carried when he was perfectly capable of walking, but he could see why they were worried about having him do even that. The way his heart was pounding was probably just making the infection spread further. Stupid. He shouldn’t have been holding onto the explosive parts as tightly as he had been. He should have seen this coming, should have been prepared… shouldn’t have put Spook through this. He had spent a good portion of his life feeling useless and good at nothing. He knew how it felt, but it didn’t make the feeling weigh any less now.
“We’ll get him to Sherlock,” Hunter told Spook, voice sharper than he meant it to be. Hopefully, the other boy would take it as impatience rather than what it really was: fear. He hadn’t had a real family for very long, and the last thing he wanted now was to lose the one he had made for himself. Wylan was only a part of that family, of course, but a body could still die if a limb was missing. He was impatient, but he knew that rushing Spook and Wylan would only make Wylan panic more. He didn’t know that much about medicine or blood flow, but he had a feeling that panicking Wylan and making his heart beat faster was only going to make this worse. Sherlock, he knew, was the worst choice for this. Sherlock was as likely to treat Wylan as an experiment as he was to treat him as a human, but neither Kaladin nor Combeferre were available, and the truth was… neither of them would operate unless they were certain about what they were doing. Hunter could tell that there was no chance of certainty here. There was just praying for the best. “Sherlock!” he shouted once they were close enough to the former detective’s tent to be hurt. “Are you done preparing? We need you out here! Right! Now!”
“Was it like this before?” Newt asked after a moment, brow quirking up. “I mean… with people who actually need to talk to you absolutely refusing to? Because somehow your job seems absolutely necessary but also… impossible, right? Because people who have problems aren’t really the kind of people who want to address or talk about their problems.” That was the way it seemed to Newt now, at least. All of them had some sort of trauma, even if they didn’t want to acknowledge it. All of them had things that they needed to talk about, and there was someone licensed to help all of them right there. None of them were willing to actually talk to Sweets about any of it, though. Newt had a feeling it had something to do with either stubbornness, denial, or the fact that Sweets was technically part of their group. It was probably a lot easier to unload all of your problems on someone and work through things when you didn’t also have to spend the rest of the foreseeable future with that person around all the time. “How would you even do that?” Newt frowned, arms crossing. “I mean… in your old job, you must have had some separation between your patients’ lives. You can’t have that separation here. Would you be Psychologist Sweets for like an hour and then Normal Sweets the rest of the time? Can you just… turn it on and off like that?” Somehow, Newt doubted it was that simple. He also knew that Sweets had a tendency to get shrink-y even when he was acting like Normal Sweets. He shook his head of the thought, instead focusing on what they had been talking about. “Thanks,” he said, breathing out and staring at the ground as they walked. “I mean… I know I’m not either of them, but it’s nice to hear that relationships might actually be capable of working. Even now. I’ve never… seen it, I guess. It’s easy to believe that even love fell apart with the rest of the world.”
Zuko wasn’t sure if it was entirely about being alone, or if it was about leaving Sal. He just knew he didn’t want to do either. He didn’t know how to deal with what he was feeling for Sal right now; what he had felt for him when he died. It had been a stronger feeling than he had anticipated, and he didn’t know how to express that to Sal. He didn’t know how to navigate any of this. It wasn’t like he had ever been given a chance to navigate romance before the end of the world. At least now there was nobody around to judge him for being gay. And if they did… well, then they would lose all of their little family. Most of them were, even if they hadn’t ever actually talked about it. He supposed other people being gay wasn’t that big a deal when there were real things to worry about. Like the end of the world. “No… I… finding someone specific is the best we can do,” Zuko agreed, glancing down at where his hand was still clasped in Sal’s. He didn’t want to let go. He had to believe that the other boy didn’t want to either, otherwise… well, they wouldn’t still be holding hands if he did, would they? “Juuzou is a good idea,” he added, biting his lip. “I just… don’t know where he usually goes when he wants to be alone. Varian is a little easier to predict…”
Hinata knew how hard it was to get Kenma to visibly display any emotion. It wasn’t a bad thing, but Kenma tended to either keep his emotions to himself, or not really feel that much. Hinata had a feeling it was the former, even if everyone believed it was the latter. Even if Kenma himself believed it was the latter. Just because his friend wasn’t expressive didn’t mean he didn’t care about things. The point was, he could tell that the room with the weapons had impacted Kenma more than the other boy wanted to let on. Seeing all the weapons on the wall had made Hinata uneasy, too, but he hadn’t been there for most of the room. He had died soon enough that he hadn’t had to deal with most of it. He hadn’t seen anyone wield anything. He hadn’t even had time to see Juuzou wield the knives before one had pierced his heart. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to pretend that dying hadn’t bothered him. “Somewhere else in sight,” Hinata agreed, trying to force a smile. He wasn’t used to having to force the expression, even after the end of the world. “I don’t… know where else we could look,” he admitted, awkwardly scratching at the back of his neck.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Dec 14, 2021 5:13:16 GMT -5
Varian grinned, the responsibility that came with being left alone resting comfortably on his shoulders. He wouldn’t let Kaladin down. He would find what he needed to find, and he’d make it work, because the only other option was to fail, and he refused to let that happen again. “Uh…back here, I guess,” he replied, a tiny crease appearing on his brow as he considered that question. “Or maybe at my tent, in case we need supplies for whatever we find. Yeah, my tent.” He opened his mouth to continue, to warn Kaladin that he could disappear, but…surely he would already know that. And anyway, no time had passed here. Whatever happened, Kaladin probably wouldn’t even realize it until it was over. “Thanks, Kal,” he said instead, offering a tiny smile. Whatever had happened…they’d figure it out. He wouldn’t stop until he figured it out.
“Logical,” Ronan echoed, a snarl in his voice and something hard in his eyes. He was still, but his heart raced, adrenaline racing through his veins in place of blood, filling him with something dreadful, the need to run but not away. The way Noah talked about it, like he could understand it, like he thought it made sense in an objective sort of way, it twisted inside him, writhed like another lie. Was it? Ronan couldn’t look at him; he couldn’t look anywhere else. “When a friend murders you, you don’t call it logical, Noah! You call it f(oops)ed up! What, would you do it, if you could? If it makes so much sense to you, would you push me down, too?” His voice was a hiss, searing pain turning his tone to molten rock. Maybe yesterday it wouldn’t have been this way, but Noah’s death was still fresh in his mind, the agony of seeing him dead there, of knowing deep down that it was his fault, that he’d taunted him and called him a coward and forced him back and he hadn’t been good enough to stop it before it happened. He hadn’t been fast enough. His breath caught, and he turned away sharply. He had punched Noah in a burst of fury once before, but he wouldn’t do it now. That had been relief; this was dread. That had been things being alright after all; this was them breaking no matter how he tried to hold them together.
Spook didn’t want to let go. Sherlock came closer, and he still didn’t let go. He knew he needed to, for Wylan to have a chance at being alright, but his fingers wouldn’t release. Let him go. Let go. Let go, now! But he didn’t, so when Sherlock pulled Wylan away he stumbled, catching himself on his knees without releasing him. Sherlock himself didn’t seem to notice or care, so Spook edged closer, one hand shifting to brush Wylan’s hair back from his eyes, still so wonderfully, impossibly alive. “Don’t go,” he whispered, leaning to press his forehead to Wylan’s, all thoughts of caution long gone. “Don’t go. Please…”
Sherlock burst from the tent, scrambling for just a moment before he gathered the supplies enough to stride instead. The red hair kid looked like the injured one, he figured, though with the way the other two were yanking him along, it was like they wanted him to die faster. He thought of Nico; didn’t anyone know how hearts worked around here? He tossed most of the stuff down, then lowered the more fragile bits, took his overcoat off, and dropped that too. “Bloody hell, put him down, are you trying to kill him faster?” He demanded, moving to shove the other two “helpers” aside. Too bad it was his arm, that was going to be difficult to keep below his heart, ah well, lying down was better than nothing. He let the boy down only semi-gently, then inspected the wound. “Where the hell did you people go?” He muttered as he worked, but it wasn’t urgent. He could tell they’d gone past the border based on how far the infection had spread. He could also tell that blond scar face hadn’t gone with them, because he’d started yelling from inside of camp. Interesting.
“Oh, just - no one ever wants to talk to the shrink,” Sweets said immediately. “Especially people who should. Sometimes people who don’t need to are against it, but it’s usually the people who could really be helped by therapy, if they’d just give it a shot. One person I used to work with used to say psychology wasn’t even real, like it doesn’t count as a science. I have a real degree that says different.” He hesitated, glancing at Newt, eyes suddenly appraising. He couldn’t help the way he thought, even if sometimes people didn’t really want to be psychoanalyzed. The trick was knowing when to say it and when to keep it to himself. “Do you think you ask questions about the past to deal with your guilt over not wanting to go back to it, at the same time you get to learn more about what it is you feel you’re missing?” He asked after a long moment, still watching him. He hesitated a second later and gave a small, sheepish smile. “I’m not always shrink-y. I’m just…usually a little shrink-y, yeah. But I can be Normal Sweets. I’ll be Normal Sweets right now.”
Sal found he didn’t really want to let go, either. It have was comforting in a way few things were, somehow, and after everything they’d just been through, he thought they were allowed whatever made it easier. He hadn’t gone through as much as Zuko, but even he’d felt some of it…Noah’s and Hinata’s deaths had been raw inside him when he’d been killed. Killed. He didn’t like remembering the way Nico had looked at him. He hadn’t thought he was real… He shook his head. It had been the room. The room had messed with all of them, and Nico was fine, now. He knew Kelsier wasn’t right, he knew Kelsier was just sick, because of what had happened to him. He didn’t actually believe that his family wasn’t real. That Sal wasn’t real. “Varian it is, then,” Sal breathed out, letting the purpose wash his other thoughts away. It was better, he felt, having a goal in mind. Easier to focus. “I think…you know him a little better than I do. Do you know where he might have gone?”
Kenma could never quite tell if he was quieter than most of the others intentionally or not. It probably didn’t matter, in practice…but the truth was, he didn’t really know. He didn’t want to talk to people, most of the time. At least with his family, he didn’t mind being around them, though. The weapons unsettled him. He wasn’t sure how to deal with that, but now that they were out of sight, he could tell that they had. That was…something he’d need to fix, probably. He couldn’t go freezing at a bad time, or someone could get hurt. “If they didn’t go to the weapons…” Kenma glanced around, eyeing the rest of the camp. He held each member of their family in his mind for a moment, trying to figure out where they were likely to end up. He hated admitting it, but it was very possible that place wasn’t in their camp. “If any of them thought it was a bad dream, like you did, they might have tried to go lie down,” he offered finally, glancing back at Hinata.
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strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Dec 17, 2021 12:51:06 GMT -5
Noah flinched, eyes wide at the accusation in Ronan’s voice. He thought he knew Ronan well enough to believe it wasn’t truly directed at him, but it was hard to tell. Experience had taught him to doubt how well he really knew his friends. The others here… the boys he had come to see as family… they made it a little bit easier to believe that they wouldn’t do anything to hurt him, but the truth about Whelk hung heavy in his mind. What happened was never going to go away. He rubbed at the smudge on his cheek, wishing that he could just wake up to it gone, one day. Wishing that he would never have to leave his friends behind. Wishing that the virus had just turned him the first time, so he wouldn’t have to be here. So he wouldn’t have to create more pain. “I’m not dead,” he managed, voice small. “He can’t have murdered me if I’m not dead.” He wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince Ronan of that or himself. He was still here, wasn’t he? That still mattered. He could feel tears burning at his eyes, but he didn’t want to let them fall. He didn’t want to make this harder on Ronan than it already was. He bit his lip, the rest of Ronan’s words slamming into him with enough force to knock the air from his lungs. He knew Ronan’s anger flung itself out at the nearest target, but he also knew he deserved it, in this case. “And I wouldn’t push you. Not ever.” Unspoken, but still there, was this: Because you matter.
Wylan let out a soft grunt as he felt himself pulled away from Spook. His eyes widened, searching desperately for the other boy. He wasn’t sure he was strong enough to fight back against whoever was pulling him back – Sherlock, which meant he was getting questionable medical attention – but he wanted to. He didn’t want to leave Spook. Not now, not ever. The agitation drained from him as Spook pulled closer, his wide blue eyes locking on Spook’s. His body was doing the best it could to fight the infection, and he could tell it was taking a toll on the energy he had to spare, and the way his thoughts were swirling in his head. If L were there, he would have asked him what the chances were that he would make it out of this alive. Without the former detective, Wylan figured he’d have to calculate it himself. Twenty-five percent if he was being optimistic. Which meant he had absolutely nothing to lose. “Maybe,” Wylan whispered, voice soft enough that only Spook would be able to hear, “I’ll have the strength to stay… if you kiss me to remind me why I should.” He managed half a smile, eyes glinting with something almost mischievous.
Hunter stood back a few feet, watching as Sherlock got down to work. He wasn’t entirely certain what Wylan and Spook were saying to each other, but he had watched them throw around looks and longing glances for long enough that he had a feeling. Well, near death did seem to remind people about what was important. He just… wished they weren’t insistent on doing it when the near-death situation wasn’t even close to over. In theory, Hunter knew he would be in the way if he stayed. In practice, Sherlock could be an idiot, and Hunter didn’t trust Spook enough to stop him from doing anything too risky if he thought it would save Wylan. “Anything I can do to help?” he asked after a moment, trying to find a way to be less of an inconvenience.
“I mean I feel like a degree is kind of just a sheet of paper, now.” Newt shrugged, glancing at Sweets to make sure he hadn’t offended him too much. “You could probably find a fancy piece of paper somewhere and write your name on it and say you’re whatever you want to be. I get that’s not how it worked before, but now… I don’t know. I could probably say I graduated high school and people would just… believe me.” Which wasn’t to say he didn’t believe in psychology. He may not have understood it all the time, but he believed it was real. It wasn’t like Sweets just spouted nonsense because it made him happy to confuse people. He spouted things that were not technically nonsense but that confused people anyway. Which… was a rather rude way to look at it, but it wasn’t like Sweets could hear his thoughts. “I think I ask questions about the past because you like to talk about it,” Newt replied after a moment, putting his hands in his pockets as he walked. “Maybe there’s a deeper reason, but… I don’t remember it, and I had to have been part of it, at some point. You get to talk about it, and I get to hear what my life might’ve been like. Win-win.” He gave a quiet laugh, then let his expression sober a bit as he looked back up. “I don’t mind Psychologist Sweets. For the record.”
Zuko watched Sal for a long moment, eyes narrowing as he watched some of the expressions that shifted across the other boy’s face. He knew that, before all of this had happened, Sal had worn a prosthetic, but it was hard to imagine him with it now. It was hard to picture his friend with his emotions hidden. Maybe it was because Zuko had spent so long learning to read him. Maybe he would have figured it out with the prosthetic eventually… he pushed the thought away. That wasn’t the important thing. The important thing was that something was bothering him. Tentatively, Zuko squeezed Sal’s hand. I’m here. Anything you need. Anything you want to talk about. If Sal didn’t want to talk, that was fine. As long as he knew Zuko was there… he bit his lip, forcing his thoughts back on track. “Varian’s unpredictable,” Zuko said, a touch of annoyance in his voice. Not at the younger boy, but just… at the fact that he didn’t even know where to start. “If he’s not in his lab or his tent, then he might be looking for us. Or he might…” he frowned a little, glancing back at Sal. “We should check the med tent. He might’ve gone to see Kaladin.”
Hinata wasn’t as good at thinking things through as Kenma was. He didn’t know exactly where their family may have ended up, he just knew… well, they were probably all out looking for each other. Or in each of their quiet places. As an extrovert, Hinata had never really seen the need to have a quiet place to retire to, but he knew most of their friends had one. He also knew that most of their friends ventured outside of camp to find those places, which meant… well, not only did Hinata not have a clue where those places were, but he also wasn’t likely to get Kenma to agree to go out searching for them. That was alright. They’d find the others, somehow. And at least Kenma had a good idea of where to start. “Yeah,” he said after a moment, glancing at the little tent village the thirteen of them had set up, a little ways off from the rest of the tents. It gave them a little bit of privacy, and the right to stay up at all hours of the night talking without actually bothering any of the others.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Dec 19, 2021 0:45:01 GMT -5
It wasn’t fair. That was what stung the most. It was unfair that Noah was walking around with death on his heels like some kind of loyal shithound, tied to him merely by intention. It was unfair that he hadn’t told anyone, even Ronan, who told him everything, who he told everything. It was unfair that he had felt the need to keep it close to his chest, as though he could save them all the pain of it that way. Didn’t he know this was worse than knowing would have been? Or maybe he hadn’t done it for that. Maybe, Ronan imagined, his mind both fierce and desperate as it clawed through the reasons, maybe he had done it so that no one would do a double take when they saw him pad over for breakfast. Maybe it was so no one would ask him how he was feeling, did he need anything, don’t trouble yourself, we can do that for you. Ronan would have loathed it. He didn’t think Noah would have liked it any better. It was so unfair that he was both angry and aware that he might have done the exact same thing. When did silence become a lie? Noah’s voice seemed to snap something deep inside of him. If he had yelled, cried, begged, been angry, it would have been different. But the way he said it, the way his voice seemed only to grow smaller, somehow… His fists clenched. They unclenched. “Friends don’t do that,” he said finally, his tone still sharp enough to cut. He didn’t look away. “It’s not f(oops)ing logical. It doesn’t make sense. You ever tell me it makes any sense again, you’ll regret it.” He didn’t mean it, but the words were see-through; the truth sat directly behind them. “You’re not dead,” he added after a moment. He meant it.
Spook didn’t think about whether he was in the way. He didn’t think about what Sherlock would need, or the fact that he could slow things down. He just wanted to hold onto Wylan’s hand and drag him back from whatever it was trying to take him away. He wanted to stand between it and Wylan, a human shield against death. Which meant he was looking right at him when the words hit him. His eyes went wide, his lips parting just a little. He had to have misheard. He had to be in shock, too much to understand what it was Wylan meant. He had to be insane, to think… One hand moved of its own accord, touching Wylan’s cheekbone, as hesitant and gentle as he would an armed explosive, or a house of cards. Preparing for the world to end around him, maybe. Preparing for something he wasn’t sure he was capable of preparing for. And then he leaned forward and kissed him, before he could talk himself out of it.
“Oh, god, now?” Sherlock shoved aside the bandaids he’d brought, as they were clearly useless here. He needed to stop the infection, obviously. Was it too late to take off his arm? Well, that would be easier to tell that if freckles would move back, wouldn’t it? “Now?” he repeated, annoyance heavy in his voice as they began kissing. “You’ve had ages to do this, and now that he’s going to die, now suddenly you have to declare your undying affection? Are we sure he isn’t actually trying to kill him? No, that’s giving him too much credit, isn’t it? Bloody…” He glanced at Hunter. “You, yes, you, I need to see how far the infection spread, would you move your rather idiotic friend out of my way?”
Sweets frowned a little. He wasn’t really offended, though he wasn’t sure he agreed. “I mean…I could have done that before, too,” he pointed out. “Forging a document isn’t new. It’s just…well, easier now. And more pointless. No one really cares if I have a degree now, but in a way, they should. It still means the same thing. It’s like…saying a trophy doesn’t mean anything, just because you can buy one online without learning any skills. The piece of paper wasn’t really what I was after when I went to school, anyway. And I still have the skills.” He didn’t intend to be confusing. It was just that people didn’t consider what he did to be a science. No one would walk up to Dr. Brennan and expect her to be able to explain everything she knew in a simple, easy to understand format that took less than five minutes total. What she’d learned had taken time and effort and study to master, and anyone trying to learn it from her would have to go through the same thing. It probably wasn’t the best analogy. Psychology was intended to help anyone, not just people studying it. But didn’t that make it more useful? “I do like talking about it,” he admitted. “I miss it. I think I fit into it better than I do here. Not that I hate it here, of course, I just mean…I miss it. But I still don’t think there’s anything wrong with you not missing it.” He managed a small grin. “Thanks, Newt. I appreciate that.”
Sal hadn’t thought of his prosthetic for long enough now that when he did remember it, it was strange. A memory borrowed from another life, but nothing that had anything to do with him now. It hadn’t been his choice to lose it - he never would have done that intentionally - but now…would he take it back, if he could? It wasn’t a question he knew how to answer. He glanced at Zuko, managing a small smile and squeezing his hand back. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk about it. The truth was…he wasn’t sure he knew how to. The words in his brain felt insufficient and easy to misunderstand. The feelings twisting through his veins and muscles felt too raw to explain. But he did want to talk about it. “Do you think…’ he began, and stopped. Then he started again. “Nico thought it had all been a lie. In the room. He said…I guess that’s what it did to him. Made him think we were all lies from his dad.” He glanced away. He’d been right to think words wouldn’t quite do it. But it was better than nothing. “Right. Med tent it is,” he added. “That’s…probably a good place to drop by, anyway.”:
Kenma had never really been able to express how impressive Hinata was. To be able to be that confident, to know what you wanted, to feel passion for something without feeling the need to keep it deep inside, where it couldn’t be snatched away… It wasn’t as though Kenma suppressed himself, he didn’t think. But he liked being left alone. It was better most of the time, not having to think about how he was being perceived, what impression he was giving. Hinata, though…he didn’t seem to worry about that. Kenma may have been good at figuring people out. But Hinata was the one who became their friend. He turned, heading for the tents. It was impressive that they’d been able to find all these, really, and keep them in good enough condition to use. Both because of zombies and because of certain other members of his family.
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Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Dec 20, 2021 0:55:47 GMT -5
Noah had never meant to lie. He knew that Ronan’s idea of a lie encompassed a lot more than most people’s, and he knew that not telling him this… not telling him this for years counted. Noah Czerny had lied. He wasn’t even entirely sure why. To protect his friends? To protect himself? Ronan had been right in the room. He was a coward. Beyond that, he was a selfish coward. Noah had never been one to drown himself in self-hatred, but he could feel it threatening to drown him, now. He hadn’t been like this, once. Would the boy he was once have told Ronan the truth? Would they have been able to find a solution together? He didn’t want his friend to have to lose him, but he also didn’t want to be seen as a liability. As someone that needed to be shielded and protected and made even less useful than he was now. “Okay,” he managed after a long moment, letting his gaze lift to meet Ronan’s, blue meeting blue, ocean meeting ice. “I won’t… I won’t say it makes sense.” His voice was as quiet as it had been moments before, but there was a little bit more strength behind it. He knew Ronan didn’t think the way Whelk had, but it was more of a relief than he knew how to express to hear Ronan’s revulsion at the excuses Noah had been making for Whelk since the accident (no, it wasn’t an accident) had happened. “He was nice to me,” Noah whispered, staring out at the skyline. “For a long time. I thought… I thought we were friends. And I’ve been trying to make sense of it, but… but it doesn’t make sense. You’re right. It doesn’t make sense.”
Wylan relaxed into Spook’s touch, his heart pounding but the rest of his body feeling like it was moving in slow motion. This was what he wanted. This was what he had wanted for a very long time. To have Spook in a way that was only his. To love him in a way that his family wouldn’t necessarily understand. He wanted to grow old with Spook, to discover life’s adventures with him, to watch as Spook continued to grow from the shy, quiet boy he had been when they’d met. He was brave, braver than anyone else Wylan had ever met. He let a small smile play across his face, letting Spook decide when to pull back. Wylan could have stayed there forever. He probably would have, if he weren’t actively dying. “Yes, now,” Wylan whispered in response to Sherlock once Spook pulled away. He couldn’t quite tear his gaze away from Spook. “Because if you fail, then there would never be another time.”
“Uh… right, yeah,” Hunter replied, watching Wylan and Spook for a long moment before Sherlock’s words finally registered and he sprang into action. He didn’t actually want to pry the two of them apart, but it wasn’t as though Wylan could actually be treated by Sherlock if he was in the middle of kissing Spook. It had been a long time coming between the two of them, but they had picked quite possibly the worst time to confess their love to each other. Was this even a confession? Hunter shook his head, deciding not to question it too much. All he knew was that these were his friends, and one of them was likely to die if Hunter didn’t intercede. Awkwardly, Hunter tapped lightly on Spook’s shoulder, his other hand grasping his arm in an attempt to pull him away. Not far enough that he wouldn’t be able to see Wylan, but far enough away that Sherlock might actually be able to work. “You can kiss him when he survives,” he told Spook after a moment, hoping that was enough to convince the other boy to back away.
“I mean… a trophy doesn’t really mean anything now, either,” Newt replied, shrugging a little. “It doesn’t matter what you were good at before unless it’s a skill that’s transferrable to now. And most degrees… no offense, but most degrees aren’t actually important to what we’re facing now. Someone who had a degree in like… economics or something… it’s not like there’s an economy they can be part of, right? I guess you’re lucky that the skills you learned to get your degree are still applicable now.” Newt didn’t know enough about college to know what degrees were likely or even possible, but he had a feeling that most of them wouldn’t help out their recipients now. Frankly, Sweets’ degree wasn’t helping him out much, but it was doing a lot of good for their little group. Without Sweets’ degree, Newt doubted that Kelsier would be anywhere close to recovery. “Honestly,” Newt murmured, staring at the ground ahead of them instead of at Sweets, “I don’t know if I fit into the world the way it is now. I don’t… really know if it’s built for people to be able to have a place in it. I mean obviously some people thrive here better than others, but… I don’t know. I want a world where everyone has an equal chance to survive and make something of themselves. I don’t know if that kind of world is even possible. Because it isn’t this one, and it isn’t the world the way it used to be.” He let out a soft breath, then glanced up at Sweets. “That… probably sounds a little bit like an existential crisis, sorry.”
Zuko watched Sal for a long moment, trying to decide what would be est. Did Sal just need him to listen? That would be easy enough to do. The thing was… what he was talking about might not be easily fixed by whatever had put all of their minds back to normal when they reappeared here. Nico… they would need to find him, eventually. They would need to make sure that he believed in them, that he hadn’t fallen down the same mental rabbit hole as Kelsier had. Zuko’s stomach flopped in his chest. He remembered what Kelsier had been like before… well, whatever this was. He remembered how capable and fiercely protective he had been before he had been reduced to what he was now. The thought of that happening to Nico… “Well, I don’t hate you anymore, and you don’t hate me, and we’re all fine with each other. So he has to be fine, too.” He said it like he believed it, trying not to let any of his uncertainty bleed through. “We should… check on him once we check the med tent, though,” he added, his tone faltering just a little bit. For the first time, Zuko couldn’t help but wonder if seeing Sweets to talk about what they had been through wasn’t the worst idea. “Shall we?” he asked, forcing his tone not to betray his thoughts.
On the surface, Hinata and Kenma were total opposites. Kenma was withdrawn where Hinata was loud and outgoing. Kenma didn’t like talking to new people, while Hinata thrived on it (mostly. If they were big and intimidating he was… less inclined to strike up a conversation. But not totally uninclined). It was a miracle that the two of them were friends – they had been told that multiple times over the course of their friendship. Hinata had never minded it. He liked spending time with Kenma. He didn’t mind that his friend wasn’t as outgoing or passionate about things as he was. And in the end, they’d both ended up in the same family. They’d both found a home with the same group of boys. In the end, they would both willingly die for the same people. “Which tent do you wanna try first?” Hinata asked, trying to restrain himself from racing over. “I mean… I don’t think Zuko would lay down if he was stressed about something but… but maybe Spook would?”
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Dec 22, 2021 23:43:25 GMT -5
Ronan stared back at him, his breathing shallow and almost harsh. Noah had lied. Whatever else there was, Noah had lied. That fact stung, but he let go of it, the anger trailing away now that there wasn’t a fire underneath it. It didn’t make sense. He wasn’t just saying that. If you cared for someone the way he cared for Noah, for his family, you didn’t betray them. His love ran too scalding and permanent for him to imagine it. He made a fist and held it out for Noah to bump, if he chose to. It was the closest he could come to a truce, while the truth was still fresh in his mind. “F(oops) him,” he replied, because it had to be said. “You’re not…” He had been about to say ‘dying’, but he didn’t. “You don’t know how it works,” he said instead, and shrugged, which was another type of lie. “Unless anyone else is bit that I don’t know about. It always happens right away.”
How long had Spook longed for this? His hand cupping Wylan’s cheek, as though it had been made to fit there. Wylan, knowing, understanding how he felt, though he still couldn’t have explained it out loud. Somehow, he had understood anyway. Somehow, the question had been asked, and then it had been answered. Somehow, the answer had been yes. Even when he pulled back, he was there, barely allowing even that small space between them. Wylan had died, Wylan was dying, and the two bled into each other somehow, creating something that was equal parts grief and terror. He hadn’t even had time to deal with what they’d both been through, and now… He wasn’t going to lose him. He couldn’t lose him. “My Wylan,” he whispered, relishing the shiver that went through him as he said it. “Stay with me, my Wylan.” He felt Hunter’s hand on his arm, but he didn’t react to it. There was no one in the world but them.
Now Sherlock was just annoyed. They were acting like this was some sort of crisis, which it was, and then they decided to go and have a makeout session in the middle of camp. Wylan was probably going to die, and it would be entirely his and Spook’s fault. If he hadn’t known Spook was an idiot, he would have thought it was planned. “Well then, yes, hello, goodbye,” he said, and promptly shoved Spook, hard enough to send him toppling away from Wylan. There was no use being gentle about it, clearly, if gentle was going to get through to him, he’d have listened to Hunter. That done, he took Spook’s place, ripping the sleeve from Wylan’s shirt to see how far the infection had spread. “Good news, you might survive,” he told him, eyes catching on the faint lines of black, crawling slowly up from the worst bits. He pulled out a large, serrated knife, some bandages, tourniquet, that sort of thing as he spoke.
Sweets frowned a little more, though he didn’t contradict it right away. He slipped his hands onto his pockets as he walked, thinking for a long moment. “Do you really think so?” He asked finally, eyes searching as he looked back at Newt. “Do you really think the things people leaned before don’t matter anymore? I mean, I knew a lot of people with a degree in art who’d tell you it never did a lot for surviving. Some things are more important now, yeah…like, learning to hunt what plants are poisonous isn’t really optional now. And self defense is something you have to know. But a trophy only has the meaning we gave it, in the first place. It’s not less impressive now, just because the world changed.” He shook his head a little. That probably hadn’t been exactly what Newt has meant, but it was what Sweets had heard. “Hey, you know me. Existential crises are kinda my thing,” he said, though his expression was more serious than his tone was. “There’s always a gap between expectation and reality, no matter what you’re talking about. Recognizing that gap can cause feelings of distress and helplessness, but it’s better than ignoring it and constantly being disappointed. What I’m saying is that feeling that way is actually pretty normal.”
Sal didn’t know if he should be worried or not. That was the problem, wasn’t it? He didn’t know if Nico was in danger, he didn’t even know that this had happened to everyone else. It had happened to him and Zuko, but still…it didn’t mean everyone had gone through it, did it? He breathed out slowly. One thing at a time. They couldn’t track down everyone at once…surely Nico would be okay. And he might have gone to the med tent too, anyway. Who knew how any of them thought, how any of their minds worked. They knew each other, but knowing something was unpredictable didn’t make it easier to predict. “Yeah,” he murmured, giving a nod. “Yeah, let’s…let’s hurry. I just want to find everyone and make sure they’re all okay.” He squeezed Zuko’s hand a little, then started for the med tent, his steps quick.
Being around Hinata should have been tiring, but somehow, it actually wasn’t. It was soothing, sort of. Comfortable. Maybe it was a little tiring. Being around anyone was a little tiring. But being around Hinata still felt nice, like being around one of his favorite games. Both experiences were equally exciting for him. “I think we should start at the beginning, and go in order,” he replied, heading for the tents, though his pace was probably slower than the one Hinata would have preferred. “Since nothing like this has happened before, we can’t tell how anyone would have reacted to it.”
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Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Dec 23, 2021 3:37:38 GMT -5
The point had never been to lie. The point had been… well, Noah didn’t think there really had been a point. He had found his friend, which he had never expected to happen, and he hadn’t been strong enough to leave once he and Ronan were reunited. He hadn’t known how much it hurt to be alone until he’d spent a few nights with Ronan again. He hadn’t wanted to go back to being alone. He didn’t know how much longer he had to live, but he didn’t want to spend however much time that was on his own. It was selfish, he knew, to rope Ronan into it, too. It was only going to hurt Ronan. “No, I don’t,” he admitted, rubbing at the smudge. His hand shot back down to the side as soon as he realized what he was doing, but he was certain Ronan had noticed. Silently, Noah reached across and fist bumped Ronan. It was more than he had expected from his friend. And it was, in its own way, proof that Ronan would never, ever treat him the way Whelk had. “Ronan?” Noah asked, hating himself for the words that were about to issue from his lips. “If… I do end up turning… will you make sure I don’t hurt anyone?”
Wylan let a small smile touch his face as he stared up into Spook’s eyes. It didn’t matter what else was happening, he always felt a little bit calmer when Spook was around. As though Spook was the antidote to whatever scary thing was happening. As though Spook could cure whatever it was that turned people into zombies just by being there. Spook’s kiss almost made Wylan believe in the fairytales where true love’s kiss saved the day. My Wylan. The words echoed through Wylan’s skull, drowning out everything else. He let his breath leave his lips, felt his heart race in his chest. He was about to say something when he felt Spook pushed away from him, his familiar and breathtaking face replaced with Sherlock’s much starker, much less attractive one. “What… what do you plan on doing?” Wylan asked Sherlock, still reaching out for Spook’s hand. “What do you mean I might survive?” He knew that was a better than what he was expecting, but something about the way Sherlock said it made him nervous. The serrated knife made him more nervous than anything else.
Hunter knew that Spook would never intentionally do anything that would put Wylan in more danger, but with adrenaline running as high as it was, it seemed that they both had forgotten how immediate the danger was. If Spook didn’t back up and let Sherlock do what he needed to, Wylan was going to die. “Spook,” he said, pulling him back away from Wylan once Sherlock had pushed him away. He hadn’t done it in the kindest way, but it was likely the only way that would have gotten through to Spook. If it had been Kaladin or Combeferre, they likely would have explained what they were going to do and why they needed Spook to stay out of the way, but Sherlock had the worst bedside manner of anyone Hunter had ever met. That was, unfortunately, what made him the most likely to be helpful now. He wasn’t going to waste time with explanations. He was just going to do whatever he needed to to try to save Wylan. “Spook, just talk to me,” he said, trying to hold the other boy’s eyes. “You can go back to Wylan when Sherlock is done.”
“It’s not that I think they don’t matter at all,” Newt replied with a small shrug. “I mean… a lot of skills are still important or useful, but not the same way they were when the person got the degree. Even if they didn’t get the degree for survival or anything.” He frowned, considering that for a long moment. “I mean… not to use the same example, but I would feel pretty stupid if I had graduated with a degree in economics. It’s not like there’s even an economy anymore. Art is still important. And mental health and things like that. But even like… physics. It might be useful for building zombie fighting weapons and things, but… for the most part, it’s not like physics graduates can continue researching whatever they were interested in. I… I really do think that’s sad. If I were to go to college and get a degree in anything, it would be quantum physics. Which is not only not possible anymore, but also extremely unimportant now.” He let out a soft sigh, wishing not for the first time that he could go back in time and just… go to university before the world had fallen apart. “The gap between expectation and reality was never this big before for most people, I’m betting,” Newt commented wryly, arms crossing. “But hey… at least not remembering means I don’t remember whatever goals I was working towards that suddenly became impossible practically overnight.”
Zuko didn’t know how long it would take to find everyone, but he knew they would have to find them all before the end of the day. It wasn’t close to sunset yet, which meant they had a few hours. If they weren’t all together before nightfall… well, he hoped nobody in their family was stupid enough to stay out looking for the others after dark. If they all came back to camp when the sun started setting… well, that would solve the problem of not knowing if everyone was alive. Unfortunately, Zuko knew that not every member of his family had common sense. He also knew that if Sal weren’t there, it was perfectly likely that he would be one of the idiots inclined to stay out too late looking for his family. “Me too,” he agreed, hurrying his steps towards the med tent. He didn’t know how likely it was that anyone was there, but… it seemed like the best first place to check. “I… hate to suggest it,” he added after a moment, arms crossing, “but if we don’t find anyone in the primary med tent, we should probably also check Sherlock’s tent. It’s possible – if someone was injured – that they’d go to the person who wouldn’t ask any questions. I know I’d be more likely to.” Sherlock seemed the least likely to act invasive questions simply because he didn’t care about the answer.
Hinata knew that most people considered him an extremely tiring person to be around. He didn’t blame them. He was high energy, and he tended to take a lot of energy from the people around him if they weren’t prepared to deal with him. Kenma knew what he was getting himself into every time he spent time with Hinata, yet he continued to do it. Hinata gave a small smile, more grateful than he had the words to express. Kenma didn’t need to spend time with him, but he liked him enough that he was willing to. “That works,” he replied, practically sprinting towards the first tent. He skidded to a stop outside of the opening, eyes widened as he peered in. “Nobody!” Hinata reported, glancing back at Kenma. “Do you wanna try the next one?” They were close enough that Hinata probably could have peered into them all in less than a minute, but he wanted to give Kenma the chance to do something useful, too. He had already done something useful in figuring out where their friends would be, but Hinata figured he might want something tangible to do, too. It was one thing to figure out a good volleyball strategy and quite another to actually enact it.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Dec 23, 2021 22:31:50 GMT -5
Ronan watched him rub at the smudge, and he’d done so many times before. As he’d been doing, since they’d found each other again. He felt… He didn’t know how he felt. He didn’t think he wanted to know. He stopped as Noah spoke. He hadn’t been moving before, but now it seemed like he had been, next to this other, deeper sort of stillness. He looked at Noah. It was not a glare, because it wasn’t angry, but it was as heavy as one. Nothing was fair. “I tried,” he said finally. It was possible his voice had never been this small, and he dropped his gaze, hardening it. “In that other place. When you were…when I got to your body. I tried to stop you from turning. And I couldn’t do it.” It hadn’t mattered. But even with Noah dead, Noah both dead and appearing dead…he hadn’t been able to let the axe fall. “It doesn’t matter,” he added, more forcefully. “Has it changed? It hasn’t since I found you. So maybe it’s just a scar. Maybe it’s just a f(oops)ing scar.”
Sherlock didn’t much care about the theatrics playing out in front of him. Or…behind him, now. He fully intended to save Wylan’s life, but to do that, he needed them all the be sensible and stay out of his way. It was too much to ask, he supposed. He didn’t answer Wylan’s question. There really wasn’t time to be reassuring or to explain things. Wylan could feel better about this, or Wylan could survive it. There also wasn’t time to explain that to him, but no matter. It wouldn’t take that long, anyway. He dumped out the remainder of the medical bag, pushing aside what he didn’t need and snatching up what he did. That done, he tied a quick, efficient tourniquet, pulled over the bandages into easy grabbing distance, and raised the knife. Hunter was busy. Wylan was probably not going to react to this too well. Sherlock considered this for barely an instant before he lowered the knife towards his shoulder.
It was so hard to think. Spook felt the ghost of Wylan’s lips against his own at the same moment he felt the life leave the hand gripping his. A muted cry looped in his head and blue eyes captured his soul and he couldn’t make his heart stop destroying his ribs, couldn’t make the knot in his gut go away. Humans weren’t built to feel this much, and Spook felt the result. It was going to tear him apart. And then he pulled in a sharp breath as something shoved him roughly away, sending him scrambling to avoid going too far. Panic seized him, strong enough that he didn’t feel Hunter there until he was touched. He turned away, searching for Wylan. There - Sherlock, with a knife, with Juuzou’s knife, with - Spook didn’t think. He threw a punch at Hunter, not bothering to pull it, and scrambled for Wylan, throwing himself directly over him like a human shield.
Newt had a point, though Sweets wasn’t sure he agreed with it, exactly. Maybe he was just holding onto a past that no longer existed, but art, science, hell…even economy still felt as though it had a purpose. Maybe not exactly the purpose it had had before. Or maybe even more of the purpose it had had before. “There have always been people struggling to make it through life,” he said finally. “I mean…not to be dark, but the world before? People died all the time. I was surrounded by it, because of my work - I was in the FBI, it wasn’t all rainbows all the time - and there were people who could barely keep themselves alive. Now it’s everybody, but that doesn’t mean quantum physics doesn’t matter anymore. The world still works, and humans are always gonna wonder how. Even if the zombies don’t go away, I think…people will still find a way to be people, anyway.” He gave a small shrug. He wasn’t trying to be overly optimistic, he just didn’t think it had been long enough since the collapse to decide nothing would get better. “I guess that’s one way to look at it,” he replied, managing a small smile. “And it means you get to decide new goals for yourself, based on what’s possible now.”
Sal breathed out, forcing himself to relax. It was bad, but it was no worse than what they’d already been through, and overthinking it would only make it worse. Besides, if Nico was struggling to believe they were real…well. Sal had already failed to convince him otherwise. Maybe he wasn’t the best person for him to talk to. “Yeah, that makes sense,” Sal replied, nodding as he broke into a jog. He didn’t want to exhaust himself, but he also didn’t like the idea of being too late because he’d been strolling. “I’d probably go there, too. He cares enough to heal you, but not enough to question you.” They were close, at least. Whether that had been coincidence or design, Sal didn’t know, but it was convenient now.
The difference, Kenma thought, was that Hinata didn’t seem to expect him to be anything other than what he was. He was far more energetic and extroverted than Kenma was, but it didn’t come with the expectation than Kenma should change himself to match it. He was allowed to be himself. It was nice being around someone different than he was when he wasn’t meant to change. “No,” he replied, shaking his head at the question. He could practically see the energy vibrating in his friend. It had been nice of him to offer, but he clearly wanted to do it, and Kenma didn’t mind either way. “Go ahead.”
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Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Dec 25, 2021 1:47:55 GMT -5
“Oh,” Noah replied, voice softer than he meant it to be. He hadn’t expected Ronan to try to do that for him… he hadn’t expected Ronan to think of it, when the rest of the world was turning upside down. Why would he pay any attention to Noah’s body when there were other bodies to mourn? When there were others to pay attention to, people who he had probably wanted to kill? Why had Noah been at the forefront of his mind? Because you’re his best friend, Noah’s mind supplied, though he tried to push the thought away. Because he’s yours. And that’s what best friends do. Not every friend is like Whelk. Not every friend is like Whelk. Whelk wasn’t a friend at all. The finality of that revelation made Noah freeze, eyes wide as though he were a deer trapped in the sheen of an oncoming truck. “Thank you,” he whispered, more shocked than he knew how to express. “I mean… I didn’t… thank you. I won’t ask you to try again.” He wouldn’t make Ronan promise to do something he just couldn’t do. All it meant was that he would have to find someone else who was willing to do it for him. Someone who didn’t know him as well. He would have mentioned it to Sherlock, as he was the least likely to care, but he also didn’t want to be a science experiment between now and his inevitable turning. Perhaps he would ask L… “I… don’t know,” he admitted, pulling his hand back from his cheek as though he would be able to see some sort of difference. “I guess… I guess I just assumed it meant I was going to turn. But it hasn’t changed that much. It’s… sort of healed a little, actually. It used to look really bad. It used to look like a bite.”
Wylan didn’t have much of a chance to react when he realized what Sherlock was doing. He wanted to live, of course, and he would have agreed with whatever needed to be done if he had been asked first, but as it was, he wasn’t sure he knew how he felt about it. He saw the knife, and he felt the tightening of the tourniquet, and he felt a little bit like he was about to be used for one of the experiments that they weren’t allowed to talk about, because anyone responsible would have murdered Sherlock if they knew the details of what he had done to Crutchie. Since Crutchie didn’t want Sherlock dead, they all had to pretend that the experiments hadn’t happened. Crutchie had been given a choice… would Wylan have that same luxury? “Spook!” He called, reaching out desperately for the other boy as he tried to figure out where he had been pushed to. He didn’t have more than a moment to cry out before the knife plunged down and multiple things happened at once. Spook was there, suddenly, a gust of wind, the fury of an avenging angel, and the knife hadn’t made contact. “Spook,” he breathed again, desperately reaching out to grab the other boy’s hand. “It’s… it’ll be okay. Right?” Wylan asked, gaze snapping up to meet Sherlock’s on the last word.
Hunter’s eyes widened as he realized what Sherlock was about to do. While it wasn’t necessarily the way he would have handled it, he wasn’t a doctor. He had a feeling that taking the arm off was the most likely way to save Wylan’s life, but neither Wylan nor Spook had been warned. With the amount of adrenaline rushing through them both – and Sherlock having no idea that Wylan had just been killed with a knife – there was only one way this could end. Despite the fact that Hunter anticipated a punch, there was no way for him to know exactly which way Spook was going to throw it, nor to guess that it would be with the other boy’s full strength. He hissed in pain, falling back and rubbing at his jaw where the punch had hit. He was probably lucky it had hit his jaw instead of his nose, which most likely would have broken. There was only one way this was going to work… Hunter stumbled out of the tent, eyes wide as he searched the barren landscape for anyone nearby. “Help!” His voice was louder than he had hoped it would be, but it would get the job done. “We need help in here!”
“I know the world wasn’t perfect before,” Newt breathed, searching Sweets’ expression. He knew that crime had always been an issue. He knew that people hadn’t lived long, boring lives before. He knew that there was still danger, even if it didn’t lurk around every corner. It lurked around enough corners that people still knew to be careful, even if most of them had never needed to learn how to fight to keep themselves safe. “Honestly… I just don’t really see how quantum physics matters now if there are no more laboratories to study it in. It’ll be years before those laboratories are reestablished, if they ever are, and even longer for the next generation to re-teach themselves everything the experts used to know. And that’s assuming that there are physical hard-copy books full of all of the information former quantum physicists understood. If there aren’t, then they either have to find a way to bring the Internet back, or they have to figure out quantum physics on their own. I just… we’ve probably gone back decades, if not centuries, in scientific advancement. There’s so much we’re going to have to relearn when the world finally settles into whatever becomes normal, and I don’t think quantum physics is going to be anyone’s primary concern.” He let out a breath, kicking at a patch of sand on the ground in front of him. “It’s a stupid thing to care about, with the world the way it is,” Newt said, trying to convince himself moreso than Sweets. He could never be a scientist. Not with the world the way it was. It was better to convince himself now rather than be disappointed when an impossible dream didn’t come to fruition.
Zuko didn’t know what was going on with Nico, but he figured it was something that they could get to when they were certain where everyone was. He didn’t know how to convince Nico that they were all real, but Kelsier had started believing it sometimes, hadn’t he? Maybe one of them could talk to Kelsier to see what arguments were the most persuasive to him when it came to believing the truth. Beyond that… there really wasn’t much more he could do. Zuko was about to say more when he heard Hunter’s cry cut across the clearing, loud and desperate enough to send a shudder of fear down Zuko’s spine. Hunter had still been alive when Zuko had finally died. Zuko had never mourned him, but he hadn’t been attacking… he didn’t know what had happened to the other boy. He had never seen him sustain an injury, but there had been so much going on in that room that it was possible Zuko had missed it. Likely, even. Before Zuko could even think, he was moving forward, eyes narrowed as he tried to make it to the tent as fast as possible. He was dragging Sal behind him, not ready to let go of his hand just yet. Knowing Sal, he wanted to go investigate and help as much as Zuko did.
Hinata was too far away from Sherlock’s tent to hear the cry for help. He already knew Hunter was alive anyway, so he may not have paid it much heed. He ducked into the other tents, frowning a little as he realized there was nobody there. So much for finding them nearby… he emerged from the last tent, bouncing up and down with frustration more than excitement this time. He always needed to be moving, especially when things weren’t going his way. “Nobody,” Hinata informed Kenna, unable to help the way his voice dipped down in disappointment. “Maybe… we should check and make sure that nobody is…” he frowned, uncertain where to look next. Their camp was small, but there were still a lot of places someone could be. “We could check Kelsier’s tent…”
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Dec 25, 2021 22:41:37 GMT -5
It hadn’t been anything. It had been obvious, instinct, decided before he’d even thought of it. Of course he would stop Noah from turning, if he could. Of course he would do it for any of his family, because as far as he was concerned, it was a fate worse than death, being left to turn. Dead, but not dead. Used. Pain sang through him. The twisting, wretched feeling that he’d failed. He knew why he hated the idea of it, though he didn’t know how to explain it, here. “I’m sorry, man,” he said after a long moment. Ronan Lynch rarely apologized, but he meant it, and it was clear in his voice. “I tried. I know it’s not…f(oops) it. F(oops) this.” He crossed his arms over his chest, and his voice lowered. “It’s just…Parrish, man.” There was nothing Adam would have hated more than turning. He hadn’t been able to save him from it, either. “Maybe it’s healed, then. Maybe it’s fine.”
Sherlock hissed as he was forced back, more annoyed than angry. Spook was stronger than he seemed like he ought to be - his personality always seemed far smaller than he was physically, a trait that bothered Sherlock only because he struggled to know what to expect from him - and Sherlock wasn’t confident he’d be able to pull him off alone. And anyway, there was no way he could restrain him and operate at the same time. “It won’t be,” he snapped at Wylan, lip curling. “If your deranged excuse for a romantic partner doesn’t let me work. Honestly, are you sure you want anything to do with him, he seems likely to get you killed!” The experiments were never far from his mind. He didn’t see what all the fuss was about, personally - Crutchie had never been forced, he was perfectly capable of making his own choices, and he’d chosen to participate, Sherlock had never claimed it would be fun - but he knew the ones that knew about it disapproved. Maybe that was why he seemed to be widely disliked… The point was, this wasn’t technically an experiment, but there was no harm in allowing it to double as one. He wanted a closer look at that arm, personally.
Spook didn’t flinch as the knife came close to his skin, his brown eyes blazing with more fire than he’d imagined himself capable of. He felt like Kelsier, or how he imagined Kelsier had been, once…how Nico had always described him. As though he could do anything, just by deciding to. He was shaking, badly. Every muscle was tensed to breaking, every thought filled with nothing but the need to keep Wylan alive, because he couldn’t be killed again, he couldn’t… Nothing else mattered. He knew, somewhere, that Wylan was dying, and he knew, somewhere, that it wasn’t from a stab wound, but he also knew that, somewhere, he had died from exactly that, and nothing else was connecting. It didn’t matter. He’d let it happen, so now he wouldn’t let it happen. That was all there was. He was aware Wylan was talking, and he was aware other sounds were erupting around him, but he couldn’t make out what they were over the blood roaring in his ears, which only made the panic worse. He was too disoriented to recognize who was saying what. He knew only that Wylan was alive, and he was between him and the knife.
Sweets hesitated, taking that in. He was beginning to think he understood why they weren’t quite agreeing, which…if he was honest, was probably most of the point of this conversation for him. He wanted to understand what Newt thought about it, and why. “You’re thinking in terms of the practical, what people can do with it now,” he said after a moment, tone thoughtful. “Right now…yeah, there’s not much point in wanting to study quantum physics, because there’s no way to actually do it. So I see what you’re saying. It’s just that…is an interest in something only important if you can use it?” He frowned a tiny bit. “That came out wrong. I mean, you want to learn about quantum physics, right? Okay, so that’s a place to start. It’s something that interests you, that holds your attention and makes you want to know more. That’s valuable all by itself, right? But then, even if you can’t study it, I bet there’s someone here who knows something about it. I mean, a lot of us older ones went to college. Something probably stuck from some class somewhere. You care about it, when other people who know something about it might not. So learning what you can, from the resources you have here…how is that not worth anything?”
Sal didn’t have time to think of anything else they could try before the cry caught his attention, sounding as desperate as any of the ones he’d heard back in the other place. He hadn’t seen Hunter - he hadn’t seen many of them, he only had been around for Hinata’s and Noah’s deaths - so he didn’t know exactly what had happened to him, but it didn’t matter, because he knew he had been killed, and he knew before that he’d had to mourn at least part of his family. That was all he needed to know to understand what their tone meant. He was running before he registered that Zuko was pulling him, and he threw himself forward, aware that Zuko was faster than he was. He didn’t want to slow him down, even if letting go of his hand felt somehow even less possible than it had been only an instant ago. Sherlock’s tent. Something sick rose up in Sal but he didn’t have time to guess what that could mean. He finally made himself let go of Zuko’s hand, because whatever was happening… Well, he had a feeling both of them would need their hands free for it.
Kenma didn’t catch the cry, either, though if he had, he would have wanted to see what it was about. Hunter wasn’t one for false alarms, typically…a cry like that could only have meant trouble. But it didn’t matter, because he didn’t hear it. Instead, he watched as Hinata flashed from tent to tent, barely seeming to obey the laws of physics, either because of his speed or nimbleness, Kenma couldn’t tell. He thought for a long moment. The trouble was that his first instinct had been to find his family, so if that had been theirs…well, who knew where they’d decide to look. Or perhaps that was the key. Maybe, instead of looking where they were likely to go themselves, they needed to be looking for where their family would expect each other to be. “Oh…Kelsier’s tent?” He repeated, drawn out of his thoughts by that suggestion. “That’s a good idea. Nico was near there, I think. And if that doesn’t work, then…I have another idea, too.”
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strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Dec 26, 2021 22:15:14 GMT -5
Noah blinked, eyes wide at the sound of Ronan’s apology. Ronan wasn’t the sort to apologize, particularly if he didn’t mean it. They both knew what it meant to turn. Maybe neither of them had experienced it themselves, but they had both had friends who had turned. They had both experienced the shock of knowing the face you knew and loved didn’t have anything human behind it anymore. It was impossible to avoid, with the world how it was. How could Noah ask Ronan to destroy his body? It was human nature, he thought, to believe that someone could come back eventually. To not want to kill them and deprive them of that chance. If Noah had to choose… well, there were two bad options. Either he could die for good and not hurt anyone, or he could be brought back and have to live with the fact that he had probably killed dozens of people and hurt countless more. It wasn’t a fair situation. The world wasn’t fair, and Noah thought he might hate it just a little bit. “It’s okay,” Noah whispered, lifting his gaze up to meet Ronan’s. “I’ll ask someone else. It’s not fair to… to ask you. I wouldn’t want to kill you, either.”
Wylan’s eyes narrowed as he glared at Sherlock, one hand very carefully resting on Spook’s shoulder. He didn’t know what might convince Spook that he was okay and didn’t need him to interfere, but he knew Sherlock being as… well Sherlocky as he usually was wouldn’t help. No bedside manner whatsoever… “If you say one more thing against him, you’re going to be the first person I bite when I turn,” he told Sherlock matter-of-factly before turning his attention back towards Spook. He rubbed his thumb lightly along his shoulder, trying to let him know that he was there, and that everything was going to be okay. He let out a soft breath, his expression softening in spite of the paleness of his face and the black that was spreading further and further up his arm with each passing second. The tourniquet probably helped some, but it couldn’t solve the problem entirely. “Spook,” he whispered, his voice as soft as he could make it. “I’m okay. I need… I need you to step back, okay? It’s not like it was before, I promise. It’s not just you and me and… and I don’t hate you, and Sherlock uh… probably doesn’t hate either of either…” Okay, so maybe that wasn’t the strongest argument he could come up with, but it was true. “Spook. Spook, please look at me.” He cast a hurried glance at Hunter, hoping that he could get Spook to back up before anyone else came into the tent and made things worse.
If it were Hunter in Spook’s shoes, and Kenma laying on the table with a knife pointed at him… Hunter didn’t even have to like Kenma in the way Spook liked Wylan to understand the impulse to protect. They had just been killed by knives. It didn’t matter what else had happened. The image that was sticking most firmly in Hunter’s head (and he was certain in Spook’s as well) was Juuzou’s knife. Juuzou’s knife, and blood everywhere, and a hand held in his that lost life too quickly for anything to be done. Hunter hadn’t been able to save Kenma. The two of them had died before Spook and Wylan had, but he had no doubt that it was a similar situation. They had all been playing dead. All been hoping to get out of the situation alive. None of them had been that lucky. He glanced back outside the tent, relief flooding him as he realized that Zuko and Sal were heading over. Not only had they both survived whatever it was they’d gone through, but they might be able to help save Wylan’s life, too. Whatever had happened didn’t matter, not really. As long as one of them was really at risk of dying, that would take precedence. They could talk about what had happened when Wylan was safe.
Zuko glanced at Sal’s hand as he let go, wishing they didn’t have to. It wasn’t like he had a good excuse to take it again when this was all over. Maybe… maybe he would just have to find an excuse. Or maybe Sal would come up with an excuse and save Zuko the trouble. Although why he would do that was beyond Zuko. It wasn’t like Sal was the one who wanted to hold onto Zuko’s hand… he pushed the thought away. He could figure out this whole thing with Sal when they were safe. When they had managed to get themselves out of this mess. For now, he just needed to figure out what Hunter had yelled about. After what had happened… it could be anything. It was entirely possible that one of them hadn’t come back okay. That one of them had died, or was dying… He pushed his way through the tent, eyes wide as he took in the scene. Sherlock, fingers wrapped around a knife. Spook, fire in his eyes burning brighter than Zuko had ever seen. Wylan, black winding up his veins, whispering something desperately to Spook. “You get Sherlock, I’ll get Spook,” Zuko told Sal, rushing into action. He wasn’t sure who had done the antagonizing, but it was probably best to get them both away from Wylan until they could figure out exactly what had happened.
“Is it even possible to think in other terms, now?” Newt asked, eyes wide as he considered the possibility. “I mean… maybe when we all figure out how to live without worrying about things like food and shelter every day… maybe then there’ll be time to focus on the things we’re interested in, but until then… I read about this thing called Maslow’s Hierarchy of Need when I was camping out in the library. It was like… if you can’t meet your own basic needs and the basic needs of the people you care about, then you don’t have the time or energy to go after the things that you might want for self fulfilment. So no matter how interested I am in quantum physics, it’s not like I can even start studying it until society starts stabilizing a little bit. At that point… then maybe it will be worth something that I’m interested in it. But it’s not like there are even that many resources here. Did you take any physics classes in college? How many of us even went to college? Because I’m willing to bet it’s you, Orpheus, Kelsier, Combeferre, and… no, not even Kaladin. And Sherlock, maybe. Kelsier’s not exactly in shape to be talking about what he remembers from college. Ferre and Sherlock might have taken physics, but would they remember any of it if it wasn’t what they were interested in?”
Hinata doubted that anyone would have gone into Kelsier’s tent other than Nico, but Nico was usually around there. He couldn’t imagine what the other boy was going through. It had hurt Hinata enough not to know what had happened to his parents and sister. He couldn’t imagine seeing his dad like that… falling further and further into a fantasy with every moment. Becoming less and less himself. Less and less the hero he had been, once. He knew that Nico saw Kelsier as a hero, even now. He always wished there was something he could do. Some way he could make it easier for his friend. That wasn’t the kind of thing that could be made easier, it seemed. “What’s your other idea?” Hinata asked as he began to pick his way to Kelsier’s tent. He thought that whatever Kenma’s other idea was, it was probably safer than venturing into Kelsier’s tent alone and unarmed. Even though he had only really attacked Nico before, it wasn’t like he would discriminate if he thought Hades had come into his space.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Dec 28, 2021 0:36:07 GMT -5
Ronan nodded. He didn’t like this…whatever it was. He didn’t like any of it. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Nothing that had happened today had been right… He knew it wasn’t a nightmare, but he wished it was. The most important thing about nightmares was that they weren’t real. “Yee haw,” he said unhappily, because Gansey probably would have. Then he shook his head, letting out a quiet breath and giving up the rest of the tension woven into his shoulders. “We’d better figure out where everyone else got to. Before someone loses it thinking we’re all dead.”
Wylan was alive, still. Spook felt his touch like a bolt of lightning running through his veins, settling his shoulder on fire. He was shaking, though he tried not to. He couldn’t let himself seem weak, he couldn’t be weak. Not now, when he was needed, when the person that needed him was the gentlest, smartest, kindest boy he had ever met. So much of Wylan went unrecognized. Spook couldn’t understand how it was possible, how it was that he didn’t seem to draw everyone’s eyes to him as he did Spook’s, but he did know what it felt like to be on the other side of it. He stayed steady, a human shield, covering as much of Wylan as he could, his fingers digging into the tent under him to give him as much stability as he could get, to… To try and stop shaking. “No mourners,” he whispered. He didn’t know if anyone could hear him over the sound of his own heedless, frantic heartbeat. “No funerals.”
“You can’t control who you bite when you turn,” Sherlock protested, more offended by the impossibility of the insult than the intent behind it. “Obviously. You could bite me now, but that would be unusual, not to mention unhelpful, I’m trying to save you, it’s him putting you in danger.” There wasn’t much he could do without help, though. Hunter didn’t seem like he was going to do anything else. Wylan was probably already too far gone anyway, with how quickly that black had been spreading. He turned, about to tell Hunter this, and noticed two more of the teen club approaching. Which was either going to make this much easier, or much harder. “Your friend is going to die if you don’t stop your other, less intelligent friend,” he told them as they arrived, pointing at Spook’s stubbornly present form. He stiffened a little as he heard Zuko’s words, then a little more as Sal moved to do as he said. “Not me! Bloody…it’s a miracle none of you have died already!”
It felt oddly lonely, letting go of Zuko’s hand, though he was sure they’d have to in order to stop…whatever they were running to stop. He wanted to hold his hand more. Maybe, eventually, when things were easier… But he knew nothing was going to be easy. That world had ended a long time ago, and now, with this, whatever it was… He didn’t have time to figure this out right now. But his brain didn’t care. Maybe, once, a long time ago, it would have been something they had already handled. Maybe, before the end of the world, it wouldn’t have been so complicated. Or maybe it would always have been this complicated. Maybe that was just the way it worked. Then they broke into the tent, and there was no more time to think about it. He gave Zuko a sharp nod and sprang into action, grabbing Sherlock’s knife hand by the wrist and shoving it as far from the others as he could. He felt the detective try to pull back, but luckily, he didn’t seem to want to hurt Sal, which made it easier to pry the knife from him and stab it safely into the ground, an act that caused Sherlock to make a sharp, protesting noise.
Sweets hesitated. He’d heard of Maslow’s Hierarchy - he was a psychologist, of course he had - and Newt had a point about it. He didn’t like that it could be a fairly damming point for him, though he had to admit that it probably was. Maybe he just didn’t want it to be. “Well…yeah. I guess so,” he admitted after a long moment, reluctant. “You do have me there, a little bit. But, I mean…even if it’s not practically something you can study right now…it’s still something that matters to you. You can care about it, even if nothing comes of it. Your interest doesn’t just have to be something you can use.” That probably didn’t sound very comforting. But at least it was true. “L, maybe,” he added, though one extra person probably didn’t make much of a difference. “I bet L or Orpheus would tell you what they know. I’m gonna be honest, I don’t remember anything about physics, because nothing in physics has a brain. But someone has to remember something, right?”
Kenma didn’t know if disturbing Kelsier was exactly wise, but it was the best lead they had at the moment, so he didn’t protest. Hopefully, they could just look in before letting him see them. It wouldn’t take much to check for Nico. He followed, eyes downward as he thought, a tiny crease forming between his eyebrows. His other idea was only barely forming, which made him wary of trusting it too much…he usually liked to think for a while before he made suggestions, but that wasn’t always possible. “Well, I was thinking,” he said finally, looking up as they neared Kelsier’s tent. Personally, he thought the fact that Kelsier wasn’t restrained at all was a pretty bad idea, but he’d kept that thought to himself. “The trouble with searching is that we’re all trying to guess what we’re all going to do. It would be one thing if only we were trying to guess where the others were, but we have to guess where they’d guess we would go, and…it isn’t working.” He chewed his lip, thoughtful. “So what if we find a way to bring them to us?”
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strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Dec 30, 2021 13:27:38 GMT -5
Noah figured he’d been lucky to be with Ronan when it had all happened. If he hadn’t been, how firmly would he have believed the others were all dead? How frightened would he have been for their well-being? “Yee haw,” Noah echoed, trying to give Ronan a smile he didn’t quite feel. He had never been very good at faking smiles, but Ronan needed him to be alive, and he wasn’t quite sure how to do that without at least pretending to be happy. He cast a quick look around, trying to make sure there weren’t any of their family in the immediate vicinity. He had seen movement out of the corner of his eye heading towards Sherlock’s tent, but he couldn’t imagine why anyone would go there on purpose. Especially when Kaladin and Combeferre were both options. Noah breathed out, then turned out and offered a hand to Ronan. “Together,” he whispered. That was how this was going to be. For as long as they were able to. The two of them, together. It would take more than a stupid virus to tear them apart.
Wylan could feel Spook shaking, though he wasn’t sure if it was him or Spook. They both had cause to, and he was losing feeling in his fingers, at least in the infected arm. He knew he didn’t have very long before they couldn’t heal him just by amputating the arm. He didn’t know what other measures could even be taken. Taking the arm felt like the only way to keep him from turning, and he didn’t know how much time Sherlock had left to try to do it. Almost certainly not as much as they would have liked. “No mourners,” Wylan whispered back, hand tightening on Spook’s just enough to reassure him that he was still there. “No funerals,” he finished, and it was a promise. He wasn’t going to die. He wasn’t going to leave Spook alone. “Just… just, Spook… look at me, okay? Hey…” he felt his voice falter, fear slipping into his tone and his heart. He wanted to survive, but the knife was as frightening to him as it was to Spook. “We can still hold hands if I only have one,” he whispered, voice tight. “And… and we’ll figure out how to dance again. Promise me, Spook… promise me we’ll dance again.” He wasn’t paying attention to Sherlock or anyone else in the tent. “Spook!” Wylan shouted, voice sharp with fear as he other boy was pulled away from him again. “Let him go! Let him go, he’s fine!” He could feel his pulse racing, the infected blood pumping closer and closer to his heart.
Something stabbed at Zuko’s heart as he heard Wylan’s yelp. Still, he didn’t release his grip on Spook, trying to pull him far enough away from Wylan to stop any potential harm from happening. He ignored Sherlock’s insult, electing instead to listen to Wylan and Hunter, the only impartial ones in the situation. Although… he couldn’t say for sure whether Wylan counted as impartial, given how he was reaching for Spook like Zuko had just torn the world itself away from him. The knife in his heart twisted as he noticed the black spreading up Wylan’s arm. A picture was beginning to form, and Zuko wasn’t sure he liked it. Either Sherlock was responsible for the infection or he was doing what he could to stop it from spreading. Knowing the former detective, it really could be either one. They may have had two morally gray detectives in their team, but only one of them would be willing to actively experiment on people he was supposed to be working with. “Hunter,” he said, glancing at Sal to make sure he was doing the right thing. “Do… you know what’s happening here?” He didn’t want to let either Spook or Sherlock near Wylan until he was certain what would come closest to saving him.
Hunter breathed in relief as Sal and Zuko stepped in, taking care of the situation. Okay, so maybe they didn’t entirely take care of it, but at least they were willing to hear what the situation was before they did anything stupid. He would have suspected Sherlock himself, he realized, if he had come in and seen him with a knife. Although… Sherlock would probably need to use a different knife. Sanitation and hygiene weren’t exactly at the top of anyone’s list of priorities, but he had a feeling that amputating an arm with a knife that had been stabbed into the ground was probably… not the best idea. “Thanks,” he breathed, glancing between Sal and Zuko. “You can let Sherlock go,” he added, glancing at Sal. “He was trying to help. I… I don’t know what happened, but Wylan and Spook came running up calling for help, and since Kaladin isn’t here and I have no idea where Combeferre is… this felt like the best option. Probably the best option anyway, since both Kaladin and Combeferre might have debated what to do for too long…” he trailed off, realizing he was rambling. “Maybe… we should take Spook outside until Sherlock is done?” For this, Hunter glanced at Sal. He had never been great at understanding people – he was more than happy to defer to the judgment of someone who actually knew what he was doing when it came to helping people.
“You’d be a great inspirational speaker,” Newt replied, and it was only partially sarcasm. In a world where nothing mattered other than survival… wasn’t it a quiet act of rebellion to say that something else mattered as well? The thought was warm in Newt’s chest. He might never be able to study quantum physics. Maybe he wouldn’t ever be able to learn everything he wanted to know about it. Maybe nobody would ever understand it to the level they had before the outbreak anyway. But wasn’t it an act of power in and of itself to say ‘I don’t care. I’m going to stay interested in it anyway. I’m going to learn as much as I can anyway.’ “Fat lot of help you are,” he teased, lightly nudging Sweets with his shoulder. He wasn’t actually upset. He didn’t remember school, but even if he had a feeling that if someone had wanted him to tell them what he had learned in history class, he wouldn’t be very much help at all. “I highly doubt Orpheus even took physics, at least not at the level I’m interested in,” he added, trying not to sound disappointed.
Hinata liked to believe that he wasn’t easily frightened. That… well, it was a lie. He was very easily intimidated, especially by people bigger than him. Looking at the adults in the group… that was almost everyone. He was taller than average in their little group, but that wasn’t really anything special. They were all about average height for trans boys, if Hinata remembered average height accurately. He wasn’t sure he did. He was also fairly certain that average height in Japan was very different than it was in the United States. The point was, Kelsier frightened him. The others had all proven that they were kind individuals. Kelsier was just… scary. And he had attacked Nico, one of the most competent in their group. He breathed out, glancing at Kenna for a long moment before he ducked his head into the tent. Three bodies – Kelsier, Combeferre, and Nico. Nico appeared to be sound asleep, and Hinata breathed a sigh of relief, pulling his head back out. “He’s there,” he told Kenna in his best approximation of a whisper. “But… that’ s a really good idea for everyone else. How should we do it? Maybe set off an explosion or something?” He couldn’t help the excited fire that sparked to life in his eyes as he proposed that idea.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Dec 30, 2021 20:11:33 GMT -5
Ronan knew the smile was fake, so he didn’t return it, but there was nothing more they could do now. The bite was there, as it had been for so long now, and so was Noah, as he had been for longer. Ronan didn’t feel much like pretending it was better than it was. “Together,” he echoed. That wasn’t fake, at least. He had fought to keep Noah with him since the moment they’d found each other again. The last one he hadn’t lost. He took the hand. There was nothing else he could do. He wouldn’t fail this family. He still had them, and he wouldn’t lose them. Nothing else mattered.
There was too much happening, now. Too many voices, too many people, and only one of each that mattered. Spook looked down, his wide, brown eyes meeting Wylan’s blue. Terror thudded through his heart, terror and longing and horror, and once he looked, he couldn’t tear his eyes away. He had never seen anyone look that scared. “I…” he whispered, and reached forward, hand moving to cup Wylan’s cheek again before he could decide to. It wasn’t a promise he could make, but he was going to make it anyway, And then it was too late, and he was pulled abruptly away before he could register that he was being grabbed. “No, let go, let me go! Wylan!” He yelled, thrashing against the hands holding him back. He could see him, still, lying unprotected, the knife stuck on the ground next to him, carelessly enough to let anyone grab it. He struggled, heart racing and breaths coming in short and quick as he tried to get back to him. At Hunter’s words, he fought harder, desperation flashing in his eyes as he twisted back towards Wylan. “No! He needs me, he’s dying, don’t…don’t take him from me!”
Sal wasn’t sure letting Sherlock go was a good idea - out of the two of them, he thought it a lot more likely that Sherlock would hurt Wylan than that Spook ever would - but he trusted Hunter implicitly. Besides…everything that had happened, the idea that one of them would hurt the other was more believable than it had been, wasn’t it? Maybe the room hadn’t worn off Spook, for some reason. He reluctantly released Sherlock, stepping back to join Hunter instead. It was beginning to come together, more or less, though a glance at Wylan told him the infection had spread a lot further than he’d have thought it would. Either it was fast, or they hadn’t been able to get to Sherlock right away. Or Spook had managed to hold him off for a while. But Sal doubted that. He glanced at Spook, but he didn’t think anyone would be able to get through to him like this, so he looked at Zuko instead. It was probably lucky for them all that Zuko was as strong as he was. Spook wasn’t particularly muscular, but he was by far the tallest one of them. “Yeah, agreed,” he said with a glance at Hunter, and moved forward to help Zuko. “Hunter, maybe you could stay in case Sherlock needs a hand…?”
Sherlock waited irritably to be released, though he probably could have overpowered scars fairly easily. It wouldn’t do any good if they were all trying to stop him, though, especially if burn scar let freckles go too early. He retrieved the knife as soon as he was able, though it didn’t matter much, he held it up, lip curling at the dirt and dust clinging to it now. Red hair would just die from a different sort of infection if he used it now. “Moron,” he muttered, and tossed it to the side, searching for something better. He had a couple knives, but he had chosen that one specifically for its sharpness and general flesh-slicing efficiency, and he didn’t have any perfect substitutes. Red hair was, however, out of time. There would be no running to the armory for something better now. “Sword, now,” he ordered burn scar, pointing at him. “Just knock freckles out, it’ll be much quicker, he’ll probably hyperventilate soonish anyway, give or take a minute.”
Sweets gave a sheepish smile at that, though he could tell it had helped at least a little bit. Maybe not with the actual problem, but at least with Newt’s current mood. Plus, he seemed to be thoroughly distracted from his daydream/nightmare. Daymare? There was a far more official word for it, but it escaped him now, which was a little distressing all by itself. It wasn’t a delusion, because Newt didn’t believe it. It wasn’t a hallucination, because… Well, it could have been a very short hallucination, maybe. Sweets would have done research on it, if he could have. “You know, sometimes you get a lot more relief out of accepting that a situation is bad, rather than trying to pretend it isn’t,” he offered after a moment. “There is such a thing as toxic positivity. It’s subtler than straight up negativity, but it can be just as damaging, because it often dismisses what someone is going through and makes them feel even worse for having completely normal and healthy negative emotions. What I’m saying is…yeah, it really does suck that you can’t study physics. I wish you could. It’s totally normal and reasonable to wish things were different than they are.”
Kenma waited, half expecting something to happen the instant Hinata looked in. Kelsier was unpredictable, and though he had to be weaker than he’d been once, he was still one of the strongest people they had. Which was unfortunate, because he was also insane. Sometimes, he wondered what would have happened if Kelsier hadn’t been Nico’s father figure. Would they have taken the risk of keeping him around? Would they have let infection take him, to stop other people from being killed by him? There wasn’t a good option, now, but at least there was one that made sense. Without Nico, it was hard to say any of them would have wanted to keep such a volatile situation going for so long. Thankfully, however, it seemed Nico was safe. Kenma was relieved to see Combeferre there as well, though he would have preferred to see Kaladin, the one person in their group who could both harm and heal with equal effectiveness. He knew Kaladin could handle Kelsier at his worst. Could Combeferre? He shook his head. They had other problems, and if Combeferre was confident enough in his abilities to stay with Kelsier, then Kenma wouldn’t question him. “An explosion would work,” he whispered back, pulling his mind back to the task at hand. “I’m worried about trying to make one without Wylan, though. He’s the one who could control it to make sure no one gets hurt, while making it loud enough to get everyone’s attention.” Varian came to mind, but Varian’s explosions were usually unintentional, so Kenma wouldn’t have felt good about him, either. Wylan was the one who knew how to control it. “We need something as loud as an explosion, but safer. Maybe we could find a way to amplify music, or even one of our voices so we can tell them exactly where we are…?”
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strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Dec 31, 2021 2:08:28 GMT -5
Noah knew that Ronan didn’t like lies, but right now it felt like lies were all he had to offer. Wasn’t he a lie, himself? He was a dead boy pretending he still had a chance at being alive. He was pretending that he hadn’t been bitten, that he didn’t experience any symptoms. That he didn’t get up sleepwalking in the middle of the night. That he wasn’t a danger to everyone around him. He glanced at Ronan’s hand in his, knowing what it meant. Knowing that it was forgiveness and love, all locked into one simple gesture. Ronan, who prized honesty above all else, was willing to accept Noah as he was. Willing to keep him by his side, like he was family. Like he always would be.
Wylan had to admit he was scared. He didn’t want to die. Above all else, he didn’t want to Turn. He didn’t want to become something that would end up hurting his family. He didn’t want to leave this world behind, only to have his body become something that would be quick to attack anyone still doing their best to survive. Wylan knew how hard living was. He didn’t want to make it any harder for anyone else. His fear was likely clear in his eyes. Spook, who knew how to read him better than anyone else, surely saw it. What were his options? Live without an arm or become a flesh eating monster? He knew which he would pick in a heartbeat, but he was terrified of what it might mean to have to learn to live without an arm. If Kelsier were having a lucid day, he might be able to ask him for pointers, but Kelsier’s good days could turn on a dime, and he wasn’t someone that Kelsier was particularly familiar with. It probably wouldn’t be worth it. “Spook,” he whispered, holding Spook’s gaze for as long as he could. “Please,” he begged Zuko, Hunter, Sal, and Sherlock. “Please let him stay if… if he just… if he just stands still. Please, I can’t go through this without him…”
Spook was stronger than he looked, and his height didn’t help. Zuko struggled against his desperate attempts to get free, doing his best to pin him in place so he couldn’t get himself or anyone else hurt. He, too, was reluctant to let Sherlock go, but he knew it was the best chance they had of saving Wylan. Once Wylan was alive and well, Spook would realize they were helping, but… he frowned, wondering what he would have done if it was Sal on the table. If he would let anyone come anywhere close to him with a knife, even if it would save his life. Or… no, maybe not a knife. He had no reason to fear knives in particular around Sal. A bullet, perhaps, Was there any universe where taking a bullet would save Sal’s life? Okay, so maybe he wasn’t the best at metaphor. “Me?” Zuko asked, jolted from his thoughts by Sherlock’s voice. It took him a moment to realize that the detective was asking for one of his swords. Doing his best not to disturb Spook much, or allow him a chance to escape, Zuko unsheathed one of his dual swords and handed it to Sherlock. “If you so much as scratch it, you owe me,” he informed him, replacing his grip on Spook. “And if you hurt him any more than you need to, I’ll kill you myself. Unlike you, I actually care about my friends.” That said, Zuko moved backwards, doing his best to take Spook out of the tent.
Hunter didn’t know why he would be more help to Sherlock than either Sal or Zuko, but he did agree that at least one of them needed to stay. He doubted it would be to help Sherlock, whatever Sal wanted to believe. He was just going to make sure that Sherlock didn’t decide to use Wylan for any experiments while he was here. It would be easy enough to get away with if nobody was watching. No matter what he expressed outwardly, Hunter cared deeply for all of his family. He didn’t want any of them to be hurt, even accidentally. If Sal and Zuko were able to take care of Spook, make sure he was okay while all of this was happening… then the least Hunter could do was be there for Wylan. “We’re not knocking Spook out,” he added, voice tense. “The only way you can knock someone out now is a way that could cause permanent brain damage if you do it wrong. There’s no way any of us is going to risk that on Spook. If he’s going to pass out anyway, then fine. But we won’t be knocking him over the head, because we’re not f(oops!)ing idiots.”
It was nice to talk about and think about something other than the nightmare/hallucination/whatever it had been. Even if Newt had only switched to thinking about how he would never be able to study physics like he wanted to. He wanted to know what his dreams had been, before his memories had been stolen from him. How old had he been when he was taken from his family? He had originally believed it was just as the virus was beginning to spread, but he had no idea whether that was true or not. Had he ever had big goals? Had he started to think about what college he might want to apply to? Had he known then what he wanted to study? Νewt knew that if it had been physics, that was likely just a massive coincidence, but he wanted to believe that was part of his old life that had seeped into his new. “Toxic positivity, huh?” Newt repeated, considering that. He had never tried to be overly positive before, though he didn’t tend to be a glass half empty kind of person. He was a realist, and the real world was depressing as hell. “It sucks,” he echoed, stopping where he stood. “It really, really sucks!” Newt shouted, letting his voice carry across the landscape. He didn’t care if he was heard. He just… needed to let it out. “Better,” he whispered sheepishly, cheeks flushing as he looked back at Sweets.
Hinata expected the worst when it came to Kelsier’s tent. He knew he wouldn’t ever be able to fight the older man off if he decided to come for him, but the good thing was that Kelsier had never identified Hinata as Hades. There were plenty of them who had been targeted by Kelsier’s prolonged delusion, but usually only people who had been tied to Nico and Kelsier’s life before. Sal and Zuko, at least, and of course Nico himself. Probably Kaladin and Combeferre, too, given how much time they spent with Kelsier. He wouldn’t be surprised if it had happened to Orpheus, too. Hinata had heard music coming from Kelsier’s tent more than once, and he knew for a fact that the man wasn’t playing it himself. He shook the thought away, just relieved that they had found a member of their family and that he was safe. That only left a few more of them to find. How likely was it that more of them had come back to camp? He was temped to look through every tent before he gave up looking for them here, but there was a reason that Kenma was the strategist, not him. “Right,” Hinata replied, unable to stop himself from rocking back and forth on his heels. “So… something like an explosion that isn’t likely to get everyone hurt.” It really was a pity that Wylan wasn’t here. Hinata had spent a long time trying to get Wylan to show him how some of his explosives worked, but explosives were rare enough that they couldn’t afford to waste one on a demonstration. Wylan could always build more, but the materials were difficult to find. It wouldn’t have worked now anyway… Wylan wasn’t here to set it off safely. Neither was Varian, though Hinata had to reconsider Varian as a choice. How many times had he intentionally set off an explosion? Probably not as many as he claimed… “Is there any chance there’s a CD player or a speaker somewhere?” Hinata asked, slipping back into Japanese. It was just him and Kenma, there was no reason to keep stressing his mind trying to think in English. He had gotten much better at it since getting stranded here, but he still preferred to think in his mother tongue. And, when he had the chance, to speak in it. “Or a microphone? Cause something tells me us yelling isn’t going to be loud enough if they ventured very far at all.”
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Jan 1, 2022 5:27:11 GMT -5
Spook let out a quiet, agonized cry, struggling with everything he had as he was dragged away, Wylan’s terrified gaze scorched into his mind. He was certain he’d never forget it, no matter what happened in the next five minutes that would decide the rest of his life. Why had he never told him how he felt? It seemed so incredibly stupid now, and he felt no small amount of disgust with his previous self for holding back. What sort of coward was he, to risk never being able to say it, to risk losing Wylan and never knowing if he’d felt the same, just because he was afraid of the way the words might sound on his tongue? “I love you,” he whispered, but Zuko was stronger, and he was losing the fight to stay. He thrashed, desperation seeping into his voice as Wylan’s quiet plea reached his ears. “I love you! I love you! My Wylan, I’m here! I’m here!” And then he was outside the tent, and he couldn’t see him anymore. There were tears on his face, but he didn’t remember how they’d gotten there. His breath caught in his throat, and then it caught again, until there was nothing left for it to catch on, leaving him breathless until he forced it out again. He was still fighting, but it was muted now. He didn’t look at Zuko.
Sal followed Zuko as he dragged Spook from the tent, glancing back at Wylan just long enough to give him an apologetic look before he closed it behind him. He hated having to help remove Spook, but he was fairly sure there was no way him being there would end well. They’d all been through something extremely traumatic, though he didn’t know the details of Spook’s or Wylan’s deaths. No one was going to be thinking very clearly anymore. Whatever the reason, Wylan was the one in danger, so Wylan was the priority. As long as they all made it through this alive, they could figure out the rest later. He turned, facing the other two. He felt like he should help, somehow, but he wasn’t sure what actually needed done, or if there was anything more they could do. He was usually okay with people, but still… Something about this situation made him think Zuko would be better suited to handling it, so he stayed back for the moment, an extra shield in case Spook broke free.
Sherlock took the sword, ignoring the warning he was offered along with it. He understood that Zuko had no way of making him pay for it if he scratched it, and he also understood that Zuko wouldn’t actually kill him, so both threats left him distinctly unimpressed. At least the sword was in good condition. Used, but cared for, clean but worn edge, it could have been merely practical, but it was clear from the way he handled them that it was personal, sentimental value then, gift perhaps, or was it what they stood for that he found so appealing, he did seem to care a lot for his autonomy, sword fighting in general could have been something important to him, and who would learn to use twin blades unless they cared anyway? It would work well for removing Wylan’s arm. The rest of the supplies were still in place. Spook had knocked the bandages over, but Sherlock didn’t care enough to right them. And anyway…Wylan was definitely it of time. He turned and pressed him down, then looked up. “You,” he said, pointing the sword at Hunter. “Help me hold him down, now.” And then he put the sword to the boy’s shoulder, and began.
Sweets knew it wasn’t fair for anyone, but it seemed especially unfair to Newt. He didn’t have his memories to tell him who he would have been. He didn’t have a life before to give him something he wanted to get back to, eventually. They could find the silver lining of it all day, but it really did suck. Sweets wished it could have been different, somehow, though he hadn’t been there when it had happened. He smiled, giving an encouraging nod. “Yeah! Like that,” he told him, and impulsively flipped off the sky, making himself seem significantly younger than he was for a split second. “It has to do with acceptance, and respect for your own emotions, and the confidence and power of expressing yourself, but…yeah. It’s alright to be mad about it.” He wasn’t sure how helpful he was being, but it was doing his best. Newt was harder to help than a lot of people, in some ways, just because he was so reasonable…it should have made it easier, but it meant Sweets had to combat real issues, not just feelings. He had to wonder what helping the others would have been like. Some of them would, undoubtedly, be hard. He felt like Nico and Juuzou would have been hardest, but he didn’t know them enough to be sure.
Kenma thought they could have been more careful when they dealt with Kelsier, but he knew it was complicated. He didn’t think Nico would want to tie him up, for example, and it would have been hard to enforce rules about who could see him. At least it didn’t seem like everyone was Hades all the time. Kenma wondered if he was getting worse about that…surely the more people he decided were Hades, the harder it would be to bring him back, but he knew more of the people who worked with him had been targeted at least once. So maybe it didn’t matter. Kenma came near the tent, sometimes, but he knew there wasn’t much he could do. He was more useful in helping Nico get through it in one piece. “I think Varian might have something like that around,” Kenma replied, switching back to Japanese as Hinata did. It was nice, having someone around he could speak to in it. Most of the others didn’t know it, and the ones that did… Juuzou did, but Kenma didn’t talk to Juuzou as often as he did some of the others. L did, but L wasn’t part of their family in the same way, and he was usually preoccupied with Orpheus and his attempt at a cure, anyway. “It would be in his tent. There might be something we can piece together from his things, even if he doesn’t have exactly what we need.”
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strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Jan 19, 2022 4:54:46 GMT -5
Wylan’s terrified eyes followed Spook as he was dragged out of the tent, but there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t stop Zuko from pulling him away, and he couldn’t even promise Spook that he would be there when he was allowed to return. He didn’t know if they would ever let Spook back in. My Wylan. Every time Wylan heard that, it sent a shudder down his spine, something warm worming its way into his heart. He had never wanted to be anyone’s, but now that he was Spook’s he couldn’t imagine being anything else. “I love you,” he whispered, more to himself than to Spook. He knew the other boy couldn’t hear him, but if there was any justice in the universe, he would know. He wouldn’t have to hear him to know. “I love you too, Spook. I’ll be here. I’ll be here when you get back.” He wasn’t sure if he was mumbling, or if the last bit had even made it out of his mouth. He didn’t know if it was the adrenaline or the infection that was making his thoughts fuzzy. Slowly, Wylan turned his attention back towards Sherlock and Hunter. He didn’t want to look at Hunter. There was no doubt that, of the two left in the room, Hunter was the most likely to find comfort in, but Wylan wasn’t sure he wanted to associate his friend’s face with what was surely going to happen. He bit his lip, focusing on the top ridge of the tent as the sword bit in and the process commenced. He wasn’t awake for much longer.
Zuko heard Wylan’s final words as he dragged Spook the rest of the way out, his breath coming in hard as he tried to get the other boy to calm down. He didn’t expect it to be easy. He was in pain. He was hurting, and he was losing someone he cared about. They all cared about Wylan, of course, but none of them cared in the same way Spook did. Although there was no way he could admit it even to himself, he would be reacting much the same way as Spook if it were Sal in danger. Although he likely would have been significantly harder to remove from the premises. “Hey,” Zuko said after a moment, trying to catch Spook’s gaze. “I can’t… well, I can’t promise that Wylan is going to be okay. I don’t want to make promises I can’t keep. But he has the best chance right now, and…” he glanced at Sal, wishing there were some magic words they could say to make Spook feel better about the whole thing. There was nothing that came to mind. “Look, this whole thing sucks. But Wylan is strong. And I may not trust Sherlock as far as I can throw him, but you know he’s going to do everything he can to save Wylan’s life, just because it’s new to him. He’ll want to prove that he can, because he’s an arrogant bastard. And that should probably… make you feel better.”
Hunter watched them leave, taking note of Zuko’s warning. Sherlock may not have taken it seriously, but Hunter knew how much Zuko valued the swords. He would do his best to make sure Sherlock wasn’t careless with him. He wouldn’t be surprised if the man didn’t actually care what happened to them once they were out of his sight and no longer useful, and Hunter wanted to make sure they were still in good shape when they were returned to their rightful owner. Carefully, he stepped forward and did as he was told. There were no words he could offer Wylan to make it better. There was nothing that would stop a sword from hurting, and there was no promise he could make that Wylan would even survive it. Did they have a plan for what was going to happen? Did they have all the supplies in place? Hunter may not have intended to be a surgeon or a medical professional, but he knew his way around injuries. He knew what was important and what was just useful, and Sherlock hadn’t bothered to give him a run down. The fact that Wylan was actively dying was an excuse, but since Sherlock likely wouldn’t have told Hunter anything even if there wasn’t an emergency, it was a pretty poor one. Shaking the thought off, Hunter kept Wylan steady, only stepping back to retrieve the bandages once the worst of it was over.
Newt couldn’t help the wild grin that spread across his face as Sweets joined in on his righteous anger about the world. Or maybe it wasn’t so righteous. It was just… anger. Petulant cries of ‘it’s not fair,’ because life wasn’t fair, but that didn’t mean you just had to get used to it. You could hate how unfair it was, and although some might see you as childish, there wasn’t anything that said you had to change your mind. He was breathing hard, both hands raised up to the sky in an obscene gesture. He didn’t know if there was a god or any other being watching them, but he wasn’t sure he cared. The universe, whether guided by laws of physics or a sentient hand, was still a pain in the ass, and he deserved to express his indignance about it. “You’re explaining it in a very serious, very scientific way,” Newt replied, shaking his head just a little bit, “and I’m sure it’s accurate and valid and all that junk, but the way I see it, we’re just screaming at the world and letting it know how much of a bastard it is. For now… that’s good enough for me.” Slowly, Newt lowered his arms and glanced at Sweets, letting his breath settle back into his chest. “Should… we start heading back?”
Hinata’s thoughts had diverted from the topic of Kelsier almost as soon as he had ducked away from his tent. It wasn’t as though he was just ignoring the problem, but there was something bigger to think about now. Nico was safe because Combeferre was there, and that meant that someone who knew better how to deal with Kelsier was watching over him and making sure he didn’t get killed. It didn’t seem nice to interrupt his nap to remind him of how terrible the world was being. To remind him that he had killed Sal, and that Juuzou had killed him. What didn’t occur to Hinata was that an explosion of the type they were planning to make would wake Nico up anyway. He also wasn’t considering that it might have an impact on Kelsier’s mental state. “Right,” he said, bouncing towards Varian’s tent and glancing behind him to make sure Kenma was following. They had needed to set up a separate laboratory for the younger boy – Hinata had lost count of how many times Varian had caught the normal tents on fire. They’d managed to find one that was mostly flame ******ant, and it meant that none of them would have to deal with explosions while they slept. Until now. “I think you should probably put it together,” Hinata considered, pursing his lips. “I think if I tried I’d detonate it like ten seconds early and that would be like… kaboom but in a bad way.”
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Feb 2, 2022 16:56:21 GMT -5
Spook’s legs gave out. He didn’t mean to fall. But Wylan’s expression, drenched in terror and watching him go, was seared into his eyes and wherever he looked the impression of it burned like the afterimage of a candle you’d stared at too long. He was aware of Zuko holding him back, still, and he twisted to get away, but the fire he’d felt only moments earlier was fading now and he could feel something much worse settling into its place. He squeezed his eyes shut, tears slipping free as he tried futilely to get his breath back again. He didn’t want to look at Zuko. He didn’t want to be comforted, not when Wylan was… He tried to cover his ears, but it was no use. He could hear what was happening in the tent, he’d always had better hearing than most people. Wylan was dying, and Spook wasn’t with him, and in the moment he thought he might hate Zuko, but his tongue wouldn’t let him say it out loud.
Sal glanced back for just a moment before he slipped out the rest of the way, catching sight of Wylan’s expression. It hurt, more than he’d expected it to, and he hated that they’d had to take Spook away when he had a feeling Spook was the one who could have made the whole process a little easier, but what choice had they had in there? He turned back to face Spook and Zuko instead, though he wasn’t sure he was much good to either of them now, either. Zuko was trying, though, and after a second Sal approached too. “Zuko’s right,” he told him, trying to keep his voice steady. “I know Sherlock isn’t the easiest to trust with anything important, but he has selfish reasons for doing everything he can, too. And he’s kind of competent, when he tries to be.” He glanced at Zuko, not quite able to keep the worry out of his expression. As much as he wanted to comfort Spook…Wylan could be dying. He couldn’t promise he wasn’t.
Sherlock didn’t particularly care about the swords, or what happened to them when he stopped using them. But they were perfect for removing the arm, it turned out, which was something he’d have to keep in mind for later. He leaned back once it was over, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, accidentally smearing his face with blood as he did. He took the bandages from Hunter as soon as he could reach them and got to work stopping them bleeding, which was not inconsiderable, he’d done his best to avoid arteries but he had just removed a limb, so it wasn’t too surprising. Finally, he leaned back, satisfied that Wylan was no longer in danger of bleeding out. “He’ll probably live,” he told Hunter, settling the rest of the bandages aside. “If he makes it through the next 24 or so hours, anyway. Someone should probably stay close enough to keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn’t stop breathing, but I doubt that will be too difficult for any of you.”
“Yeah…yeah, I guess you’re right,” Sweets admitted. “We are angry. The world took a lot from us. Whatever the reason, I guess it just feels right to let it know how we feel about that.” He breathed out,, flipping off the sky one more time for good measure before he turned back to look at Newt, grin fading a little. It was probably a good time to start heading back. He didn’t know how long they’d been out, but it felt late, and even if it had been some sort of flash hallucination, he still thought Newt was probably worn out from it. Not to mention that it could have come from sleep deprivation in the first place. He’d have to keep an eye on him, though. In case it really did turn out to be something more serious. “Yeah. Let’s head back,” he replied, and turned back towards camp. He couldn’t help hoping it had just been a one time thing. They’d already seen the extreme version with Kelsier, and Sweets really didn’t want the same thing happening to Newt.
Kenma followed as closely as he could, already thinking of how many ways setting off an explosion like this could probably backfire. But what choice did they have? The rest of them could be scattered anywhere, and if they hadn’t talked to anyone else, they’d probably either think it had been a dream or everyone else was dead. They needed to act before something permanent did happen. He gave Hinata a nod and slipped into the tent. Varian had a lot of supplies, but not a lot of organizational skills, and he wasn’t actually sure what he was doing, but it didn’t matter. He was going to bring everyone back together. “Can you keep watch?” He asked after a moment, turning to look at his friend. “If someone tries to come in here, we could all get hurt. It shouldn’t take long. Wylan showed me how to make a basic explosive one time, and I remember most of it.”
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strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Feb 4, 2022 2:58:05 GMT -5
Zuko cursed under his breath as Spook faltered. He wasn’t sure if he should catch him or just let him fall, so he settled for doing something in between. If someone had just torn him away from a dying Sal, he wouldn’t have wanted them anywhere near him, no matter how close of a friend they were. He had no way of knowing how Spook felt about it, and it wasn’t like the other boy was in any state to tell them what he was comfortable with and what he wasn’t. Zuko took a step back, deciding it was probably for the best to let him have his space. If he made a run for the tent, they could probably stop him. Between Sal and him, it wouldn’t be that difficult to take Spook down regardless of how tall he was. Zuko sent Sal a quick glare, unsure how helpful a comment like ‘kind of competent’ would be, but… it was true. Sherlock wasn’t incompetent, it was just that he tended to be overconfident about his abilities. But he was their last hope for this, so they would have to trust him. Zuko didn’t like the idea of his swords being used for this, but if it saved Wylan’s life… “Look. He’s pretty damn strong,” Zuko commented, kneeling down so he could see eye to eye with Spook. “All that’s happening here is we’re giving him a better shot of surviving it. You did everything you could. I know you did.” He glanced at Sal, half wondering if he was saying the right thing. He had never been the best at comfort, though he did everything he could to make the world just a little bit fairer for everyone he could. He was better at action than he was at words. “And… and we’ll be here until Hunter comes out to tell us what happened. He’s not alone in there, yeah? Hunter is making sure Sherlock doesn’t do anything unthinkable. And if Wylan doesn’t make it, I’ll kill Sherlock myself.”
Hunter had a hard time watching, but he needed to be there for Wylan. Perhaps even more important, he needed to be there for Spook, too. He had a feeling Spook would never get over it if someone weren’t in the tent to look after Wylan and keep an eye on Sherlock. There wasn’t as much blood as there had been, though Hunter was fairly certain it would be for the best to keep Spook out of the tent until more if it could be cleaned up. He glanced at Sherlock when he finished up, then pulled back and pushed his rolled-up sleeves back into place. “You might want to wipe your face,” he said bluntly, getting to work cleaning up as much of the blood as he could. While he could easily take charge of watching over Wylan, he wanted to get Spook back in as quickly as possible. He didn’t want to risk the other boy doing anything drastic. He had never seen Spook look like that before. He had never heard Spook yell with that much ferocity. He didn’t know what the other boy was capable of.
Newt liked this side of Sweets. He had a feeling it was a side the psychologist didn’t let out very often. It was childish and impulsive, full of the sort of idealistic fervor a child had. The world wasn’t fair. Newt had known that from his first memory. If the world was fair, he would have remembered more than his name. He wouldn’t have found himself in a world as messed up as the one they were currently living in. If he had been a child, he would have had the freedom to yell about how unfair it was. He would have been able to rage at the world with fewer repercussions. It didn’t work like that, but… he could experience that now. The ability to just be upset about it instead of having to pretend that everything was just fine. That he wasn’t angry about everything he had missed at all. “You know,” Newt said as he turned to head back towards camp, “I’ve been thinking we should try to find pizza ingredients again. I can’t stop remembering how good it was when we found that frozen one that was still good enough to heat up.”
“How come Wylan showed you but he didn’t show me?” Hinata asked, the tiniest hint of a whine in his tone. He wanted to know how to do cool things like blow things up (although, he figured, thinking how much he wanted to blow things up was probably a really good reason not to teach him how to do it). He just liked the idea of making things explode. Not in a destructive way, but… it did seem fun. They weren’t doing it for fun now, but he couldn’t help the tiny sliver of anticipation that raced in his chest. “But yeah, I’ll keep watch,” he added, doing his best to show that he wasn’t actually that bothered that he couldn’t be part of setting up the explosion. If someone found out what they were doing… well, they had a very good reason to do it, but he had a feeling the rest of the group wouldn’t necessarily agree. They couldn’t stop them when it was done, though, so he needed to make sure they weren’t interrupted until the explosive had been set off.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Feb 4, 2022 3:57:39 GMT -5
Sal caught the glare, offering a helpless shrug in return. Maybe it hadn’t been the best phrasing, but he figured an obvious lie was going to make Spook even less calm than he already was, and saying Sherlock would have been his first choice wouldn’t have been subtle. He was painfully aware that Wylan could be dying. How fast could you bleed out from losing an arm? He couldn’t imagine it was long, and he couldn’t imagine Sherlock would work with the same sort of determination the other two options would have. He acted faster, maybe, but… But it didn’t matter. The only thing Sal could do here was try and help the person in front of him. He did his best to swallow back the panic and moved casually between Spook and the tent, just in case he managed to push past Zuko.
Spook caught himself awkwardly as he hit the ground, struggling to get his lungs to work the way they were meant to again. The air didn’t seem to want to stay in him long enough for him to use it, and his stomach twisted, but what did that matter when Wylan was still back there, and who knew what was happening? The room flashed painfully through him again and he pressed his knuckles against his eyelids, trying to drown them out. “He’s dying! He’s not strong, he’s dying!” he yelled abruptly, the words finally making their way through his fractured thoughts. He couldn’t bring himself to care that Zuko was stronger than he was, or even that, somewhere, he knew he was trying to help. Well…he didn’t want help. He didn’t need comfort, he wasn’t the one with black spreading up his arm, burning through his veins like a poisonous wildfire set on making it to his heart. “Please…” he added, and this time his voice was smaller, the heat taken from it and replaced by desperation. He reached to catch Zuko’s wrist, his grip harder than he meant it to be, his eyes wild as he searched Zuko’s. “Please let me see him, please, I can’t…I can’t do this without him, I just can’t, I’ve already lost him once today, I can’t feel him die again! Zuko, please.”
Sherlock reached up, touching his cheekbone automatically, though he couldn’t have felt the blood. Still, he'd rather not get it anywhere near his mouth. It was still mostly infected blood, after all. Who knew what sort of damage it could do? He took a small, empty vial out of the pocket of his overcoat and leaned down, getting to work coaxing a little of the blood into it with a gloved hand. “Probably shouldn’t stay in here long, no telling how much of this could be airborne by now…” he remarked as he worked at it. “This tent should be burned once your friend won’t bleed out if he’s moved, too, don’t want any more infections like this one.” He glanced at the arm as he spoke. They’d probably have to burn that, too, but he hoped to see if he could do anything with it first. The infection itself wasn’t somerhing he’d seen before. He didn’t know exactly what to make of it.
Sweets turned to head back, too, a small, almost cheerful smile on his face. It wasn’t often he was just…in a good mood, anymore, but he thought he was now. And why not? Maybe not everything was perfect, but they were more than okay,weren’t they? He was on a walk with Newt. No one had died in…well, it has been a while. Kelsier was recovering, more than one romance was blossoming between the other survivors. Maybe things were looking up. “Yeah,” he agreed, shooting Newt a grin at that. “I mean…probably most people aren’t trying to bake, so there’s probably flour somewhere. We have water. Cheese and tomato sauce can keep for ages. I think we should do it.”
Kenma didn’t have an answer for that, since he wasn’t Wylan, but if he’d had to guess…he would have said it was probably because Hinata would blow things up for fun. And while they did have Varian to do that already, Varian didn’t seem to know how to cause explosions on purpose, exactly. They seemed to be the side effect more often than the goal. “I’ll show you how after we get everyone together again,” he promised instead of pointing that out, kneeling by the supplies. He meant it, too…as impulsive and chaotic as his friend could be, he did trust him. And what if Kenma hadn’t been there, either? Hinata wouldn’t have known how to do it. He would have to work fast, though. He had a feeling not everyone would agree that it was as necessary as they both felt it was.
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Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Feb 8, 2022 2:28:43 GMT -5
Zuko wished he could rely on Sal to help the situation, but he couldn’t. Both of them were clueless what to do here. Neither of them had been through this, not from Spook’s position. They had both watched people die. Sal had seen more people die, but they had both lost people close to them. Zuko had watched Iroh die, and Sal had seen plenty more people. His friends. People Zuko wished he could have met, because if Sal liked him he would have found something to like in them as well. He couldn’t go back. But this… this was like what would have happened if Sal were dying and there was nothing Zuko could do about it. He could still hear Spook screaming that he loved Wylan. He could still see the look in Wylan’s eyes. If Zuko were in Spook’s shoes… would he have told Sal the truth of how he felt? “Hey,” Zuko breathed, trying to search Spook’s eyes. Trying to make sure he knew that he didn’t have to deal with this alone. They were a team. They always would be. “I don’t lie, okay?” Zuko said after a moment, lightly removing Spook’s hand from his wrist with his free hand and wrapping it in his hands. “If anyone can save Wylan’s life right now, it’s Sherlock. And you have to believe that he’s strong enough to fight this. You have to believe in him right now, okay?” Spook’s grip had been just tight enough to be painful, but Zuko didn’t mind. He probably would have been halfway to a murder spree if it were Sal dying there, especially after what they had all been through. “You’ll be able to send him as soon as Sherlock is done. I promise. And if Hunter doesn’t come out soon, then I’ll go in there myself to make sure that everything is going well. Spook, I promise that Wylan knows exactly how much you care. And he knows you want to be there.” Zuko glanced back at Sal, hoping the other boy might have something to add. And half hoping that Hunter would come out soon and save them the trouble by announcing Wylan was just fine. Wylan was fine. He had to be fine. None of them were prepared to lose one of their own.
“Do we know if it’s even airborne?” Hunter asked, brow furrowing a little. He had been so sheltered when the plague had broken out that he hadn’t been aware of the news reports about how it spread. He had assumed it was only blood-borne – people only died or became zombies when they were bitten or it was otherwise introduced to their bloodstream. Hunter’s eyes narrowed, trying to take stock of his body to make sure he had no open cuts or wounds. “Besides, I think moving him is more likely to kill him than anything else.” He crossed his arms, trying not to let his thoughts about Sherlock escape. It wasn’t that he didn’t like him, it was just… he wasn’t sure that Sherlock was taking the situation as seriously as he should. “I’d like to go get Spook and Zuko and Sal,” Hunter said suddenly, eyes narrowing as he looked at Sherlock. “Do you think they would be in danger if they came in here? And don’t lie to me just because you would rather them not be in your space.”
Newt had very quickly learned that hopes was a dangerous thing. Almost as soon as he had learned that his friends were immune to the disease, he learned that he wasn’t. He could live content in the knowledge that his friends would be okay. He just wouldn’t live long enough to see it. Still, it seemed that things were actually starting to be okay. They were reaching some approximation of normal, and while it would never be perfect… it might be good enough. “Does flour even stay good for this long?” Newt asked, frowning a little. “I mean… it’s been a while. And it’s not like there are still people making flour. Right? From what I know it’s not like it’s something you can easily just… make.”
“Thanks!” Hinata grinned in a voice that was much too cheerful for the situation. He wasn’t trying to be insensitive, it was just… blowing up things sounded fun. He wanted to know how to do it, even though he knew he would never do it except in an emergency. “I promise I won’t blow anything up unless I absolutely need to, like you right now. And we don’t have that many emergencies, but sometimes an emergency can be really helped by an explosion…” he was rambling, trying to get over the nerves consuming him. Hinata knew that blowing things up could cause more problems than it helped solve, even if this was an emergency. “Sorry,” he mumbled, backing up just enough to take watch. He searched for any sign of someone else approaching, anything that might indicate someone catching on to their plan. It was dangerous, but the danger was worth it if they could get all of them back together again. They were all in more danger anyway if they were all separated and trying to look for each other.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Feb 20, 2022 1:30:25 GMT -5
Spook felt like his heart was going to explode if it beat any faster, but he didn’t know how to slow it down. He knew on some level that this wasn’t helping…well, he was beginning to know that. He hadn’t known it before, in the tent. He had only known that there was a knife and he had never seen Wylan look so afraid. He found himself looking into Zuko’s eyes, unable to look away. He was aware that his hand had been moved, too, but it didn’t matter, because where it was now felt better anyway. Warmer, less like he was holding on for dear life and more like he was being held. He didn’t trust Sherlock, but he trusted Zuko. The hatred hadn’t lasted long…it hadn’t really been directed at Zuko, anyway. Zuko didn’t lie. Zuko wouldn’t say what he was saying unless he believed it. He sat as still as he could, fighting to force air back into his lungs. Wylan was strong, probably the strongest person Spook knew. He was strong, and smart, and determined, and if anyone would be able to cling to life no matter what…wouldn’t it be him? “I should be there,” he whispered, trying to make the words audible, though his throat felt ragged and too full. “He would be there, if it was me. He wouldn’t have…he would have been there.”
Sal knew that out of the two of them, he was usually better with people, but…for some reason, he felt like Zuko was better suited to this situation. He didn’t know why. He would have tried, if Zuko hadn’t been there, of course. But for now…he stayed back. He had a feeling he would be more likely to overwhelm Spook than help him, and if Hunter came out…well. Depending on what his news was, a buffer between it and Spook might be a good idea. His chest hurt, but he refused to let himself feel it yet. For now, they just needed to do their best to make it to the end of the day with everyone alive and accounted for. He could process everything later. He glanced back at the tent, half tempted to go and see for himself. But…the less reason Spook had to remember what was happening, the better off everyone would probably be, so he stayed put and did his best to send Zuko an encouraging look.
“Oh, for - “ Sherlock pointed at the arm, scowling at Hunter. “You might be mayyybe forgetting the rather earth-shattering fact that your friend. Wasn’t. Bitten. If he wasn’t bitten, then how did the infection end up in his blood? Judging by the speed it was traveling and the way it was affecting him, I’d almost say it was a concentrated version of the virus, makes sense too, you don’t see lines of black like that after a normal bite, and since a lot of us have been around a rather long time at this point and no one has ever mentioned seeing anything like this, obviously it’s new, okay so what does that mean, oh well let’s think, concentrated virus, no bite, never seen before, who knows how it spreads, do you really feel comfortable assuming it’s not airborne?” He stopped more for air than because he’d run out of things to say. “Oh, but please. Invite three of your other apparently close friends in. Visiting hours end when someone else loses a limb.”
Sweets couldn’t say he knew what Newt had been through. He couldn’t say he understood exactly, but still…they were friends. He may not have been able to empathize as well as he wanted, but he could be there for support anyway, couldn’t he? He wanted to belong. That was something he was pretty sure he and Newt had in common. They both wanted a family, a real one, people they could exist comfortably around, even with the world how it was now. And, maybe…they’d found a piece of that with each other. At least, Sweets hoped Newt felt as comfortable around him as he felt around Newt. “Does flour even actually go bad?” He asked, interested. “I thought it was one of those things that just…doesn’t go bad. It’s not like it could spoil or get moldy, right?”
Kenma knew Hinata well enough to guess that this was his friend’s way of dealing with something he had no way of controlling. He was intense, and one of the most positive, caring, passionate people Kenma had ever met. And, just like Kenma…he didn’t always show how he felt the way other people expected him to. He gave a nod, turning to the pieces and kneeling in front of them. A relatively simple explosive…the less mistakes he could make, the better, and Wylan hadn’t taught him anything too complicated, anyway. Mostly because knowing how to build a complicated bomb was more likely to be confusing than helpful, he assumed. It didn’t take long. He sat back, looking at it for a long moment to make sure he hadn’t missed anything too important. Then he looked up, motioning for Hinata to join him again.
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Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Feb 27, 2022 13:22:25 GMT -5
Zuko searched Spook’s expression, looking for ay sign that the other boy actually believed him. He wouldn’t have been offended if he didn’t… it was a complicated situation, and Wylan was in danger whether they wanted to admit it was true or not. Wylan could die here if they weren’t careful. Wylan could already be dying and there was nothing they could do about it. Zuko may not have trusted Sherlock, but he knew the former detective was Wylan’s best bet, especially if Kaladin and Combeferre were elsewhere. He cast a quick glance at the sky. It wasn’t quite evening yet, but it would be soon. What time had it been when they had been thrust into their nightmare that wasn’t a nightmare? How long had it been since? “He’s okay,” Zuko murmured, glancing down at where his hands cupped Spook’s. “He knows you want to be there. He knows why you were protecting him, and I’m sure when he wakes up he’ll know exactly why we pulled you away. Right now… he’s asleep, Spook. I don’t think he cares one way or another whether you’re there when he’s asleep.” It was, perhaps, a harsh way to say it, but it was the truth. “We’ll make sure you’re there when he wakes up,” he added, trying to soften his tone. “Hunter won’t let Sherlock keep you from seeing him any longer than he has to.” Zuko glanced up, gaze meeting Sal’s for a moment before he focused the rest of his attention back on Spook. He wanted to keep talking to Sal about what had happened in that room. He wanted to make sure he was okay, because he couldn’t stop seeing the way Nico’s sword had plunged into Sal’s chest, the way his eyes had gone dead when they were usually the most expressive part of him… “It’s almost sunset,” he said suddenly, voice rougher than he meant it. “If people don’t come back by then we’re going to have a problem.”
“Oh you just have to be smarter than everybody else in the room, don’t you!” Hunter snapped, eyes narrowing as Sherlock finished his tirade. “The infection was in his blood! He had a cut on his hand! If it was airborne, then surely Spook and I carrying him all the way here would have put us right in the path of however the hell it spreads!” He knew he was being unreasonable, but the anger boiling in his blood didn’t want to calm down. He had been this angry in the other place, but that had been different. That had been unwarranted, at least until people had started dying. He had almost killed Kenma, and though he wasn’t quite angry enough to try to kill Sherlock, the feeling was scarily reminiscent. “Spook just had to watch Wylan die. He had to watch all of us die, and I’m not going to separate him from Wylan for a moment longer than I have to just because you have a theory!” It didn’t matter that Sherlock didn’t know about the place they had all been. It didn’t matter that he sounded like a crazy person. He just… wanted them all together again. And that meant reassuring Spook as soon as possible that Wylan hadn’t died. “Either you make this place suitable for people to visit, or Spook might barge in here anyway,” he grumbled, pushing the opening of the tent roughly aside and approaching the group outside.
Newt knew that his experiences were unique. There was likely nobody else in the world who would be able to understand what he had been through. That said, he thought everybody’s experiences were like that. Sweets would never be able to understand what it was like to wake up with only the taste of his name in his mouth (despite the fact that it probably wasn’t his real name) and only one other person alive with him in a place they had to learn how to survive. Newt would never be able to understand what it was like to search for serial killers and bring them down with his wits and a group of people he trusted more than life itself. He didn’t think his inability to understand that made him a worse friend to Sweets. “I don’t know,” Newt shrugged, frowning a little. “I mean… in the Glade… Hades’ experiment, sometimes the flour got bugs in it and then it wasn’t any good to use anymore, but it’s not like it can really go moldy… I think…”
Logically, Hinata knew that firing a gun wasn’t the brightest idea he or Kenma had ever had. He knew that it could draw attention to them, but he also knew it was likely the only way to get everyone back together. The sun was starting go down, and if they didn’t manage to get everyone back together before that… he didn’t want to consider the possibility that he might never see some of his family again if they got separated from the group after dark. Logically the dark wasn’t any more dangerous than other times of day, but zombies didn’t need sleep. It seemed sometimes that their sight was better than human sight, that they could see in the dark that humans needed light to navigate. He didn’t want to picture his family out away from camp before the sun had come back up. Especially if all of them still felt the room they had been in as deeply as he did. Hinata had been the first to die. If he had to guess, the memories were even more vivid for everyone else. “Ready?” Hinata asked, not moving forward. He would just need to back up again anyway, and he didn’t know how much he trusted himself around an explosive device. He could jump up and down and yell “Boom!” as many times as he wanted, but that didn’t mean he was ready to handle an actual explosive.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Apr 1, 2022 1:16:20 GMT -5
Spook didn’t move back, the panic that had taken him over slowly fading to something he could manage, even if it still pumped through his body like poisoned blood, reaching every part of him again and again. At least he was beginning to be able to think again. Although, with it came the shame, enough to nearly overwhelm him all over again. Wylan… If Spook hadn’t been stopped, he probably would have killed him. He shuddered, gritting his teeth against the thought. He had very nearly gotten Wylan Van Eck killed twice today, then. Once by…whatever the nightmare place had been, whatever had taken him over there. And once because of his own fear. “I’m so sorry,” he breathed, searching Zuko’s gaze. He wanted to apologize to Wylan, but Wylan wasn’t there, so Zuko was the next best thing. “I…I just saw the knife, and I was so afraid, I…” He covered his face with his hands, trying his best to breathe, though he didn’t think he’d succeed until someone told him what had happened in that tent after he’d been dragged out. The sudden roughness to Zuko’s tone drew him out only a moment later, and he blinked, his tone sharpening just a little. “The others aren’t back yet?”
Sal caught the look Zuko gave him and held it for a long moment, his own expression conflicted. He didn’t know how he felt about any of this…he didn’t know if he was okay, only that he had to be if they were going to make it through this in one piece. If Wylan was in this much danger, what about the others? Had the nightmare room been some sort of…warning? He didn’t want to think it.. He didn’t want to wonder whether any of the others were in this kind of danger right now, or whether they had all come back… He didn’t want to think about any of it. “Hunter!” He called, turning away as movement to his left caught his attention. He took a couple steps towards the other boy, searching his expression for any sign of what the news would be. “What happened? Is Wylan…?”
Sherlock scowled, falling into a sullen silence as Hunter snapped at him. He had a point about the blood, though…Sherlock still wanted to know how the infection had gotten into the blood in the first place. So there had been an open wound. It wasn’t as though [ijthat[/i] was unheard of for anyone here. But Hunter’s anger was enough to make him resist the urge to point that out. “I don’t know what the hell you’re going on about,” he told him, sounding more irritated now than anything else. “Do what you want, see if I stop you. Moron.” The last bit was added under his breath, after Hunter had stalked out. He turned back to Wylan, shaking his head a little and checking his pulse again.
“I guess that makes sense,” Sweets admitted, frowning a little at that. “Well…still, that just means it might not even be ruined, right?” I mean, anything that can get moldy is going to be moldy by now, but if the flour was protected enough…it would probably be just fine.” He was probably reaching a little. But he really did want to try making a pizza with Newt. The frozen one had been good, but it wasn’t like that was ever going to happen again…it had been luck. One small frozen pizza missed by hundreds of desperate scavengers. Besides, it wasn’t like searching for the ingredients wouldn’t be fun all on its own. It had felt sort of like a scavenger hunt. Just…maybe not a very satisfying one. “I’d still like to look,” he added, giving Newt a small smile. “There’s nothing better than a pizza party. And we’d actually have friends to share it with now.”
Kenma watched his friend, the explosive in front of him feeling far more dangerous now that it was tangible. There were a lot of ways this could go wrong, he knew, but there were a lot of ways everything else could go wrong too if they didn’t try something, and they were running out of time. Zombies weren’t necessarily more dangerous at night, but humans were worse at defending themselves at night, and if any of them were injured… He shook the thought away. They were doing everything they could. A part of him wanted to ask if Hinata wanted to set it off. His friend was faster than him by a lot, for one thing, and he probably would have enjoyed it, for another, but…if anything went wrong, Hinata was the one who would be hurt. Just like he had been in that room. Just like he had been when Juuzou had… He would do it. He could run, too. And it was probably his turn to take a risk. He gave Hinata a firm nod and turned back to the explosive, his hand resting over it for a long moment as he breathed out. And then he lit the fuse, got to his feet, and ran.
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