Alex "not in love with a spaceship" Kamal (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
donkeyballs) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
reverielogs2018-06-08 01:12 pm
donkeyballs) wrote in reverielogs2018-06-08 01:12 pm
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» WHO? The Roci Crew and whoever else wants in on this mess
» WHEN? after the gravity is back
» WHERE? A few different places
» WHAT? A few different prompts as well as a catch-all for any roci crew or related logs for the month of june
» WARNINGS? these are all just terrible people what do you want from me
001: Alex, Bobbie and Amos are Judging You
The Martians and the Earther are sitting at a table in the Mess Hall, and they've started a game. That game? To rate everyone else on the ship in order of attractiveness. Want to be rated? Find the comment header below, drop a picture in of your character, and watch the comments fly. Feel free to overhear them and give them hell.
002: Closed, Alex >> Frank
Going on the morning walk-about to search for Holden was ritual, at this point, and Alex was very used to Frank coming over first thing before they headed out. So the door was already open, waiting for him. Alex was fishing through his drawers, trying to find where he'd stashed that singular glove that he'd found, to show him for a laugh. But instead his fingers found something else - a thin sheet of plastic, creased and bent a hundred thousand times, and Alex's heart nearly stopped.
He pulled it out of the drawer like it was made of plutonium, careful not to touch the edges of the drawer with it.
Christ. Oh, Christ.
003: Open, Alex >> Anyone who wants to find this wrecked man.
He goes straight to the bar.
It's not that he isn't a fairly regular fixture there, anyway, but especially right now, all he really wants is to drink until he numbs everything. So hi, have a depressed Martian with a bottle of who knows what, sitting at the bar and just staring at a picture of a woman and a child smiling lovingly at the camera. He keeps stroking his thumb over it, then looking wrecked and saying something like 'god damn it' under his breath before he pours himself another drink. One of his arms is still wrapped up in a sling against his chest.
If he recognizes you, he might look up when you get close, and sigh. "Hey, partner. Everythin' alright?" Because it's a lot easier to worry about other people, than to keep being miserable about yourself.
» WHEN? after the gravity is back
» WHERE? A few different places
» WHAT? A few different prompts as well as a catch-all for any roci crew or related logs for the month of june
» WARNINGS? these are all just terrible people what do you want from me
001: Alex, Bobbie and Amos are Judging You
The Martians and the Earther are sitting at a table in the Mess Hall, and they've started a game. That game? To rate everyone else on the ship in order of attractiveness. Want to be rated? Find the comment header below, drop a picture in of your character, and watch the comments fly. Feel free to overhear them and give them hell.
002: Closed, Alex >> Frank
Going on the morning walk-about to search for Holden was ritual, at this point, and Alex was very used to Frank coming over first thing before they headed out. So the door was already open, waiting for him. Alex was fishing through his drawers, trying to find where he'd stashed that singular glove that he'd found, to show him for a laugh. But instead his fingers found something else - a thin sheet of plastic, creased and bent a hundred thousand times, and Alex's heart nearly stopped.
He pulled it out of the drawer like it was made of plutonium, careful not to touch the edges of the drawer with it.
Christ. Oh, Christ.
003: Open, Alex >> Anyone who wants to find this wrecked man.
He goes straight to the bar.
It's not that he isn't a fairly regular fixture there, anyway, but especially right now, all he really wants is to drink until he numbs everything. So hi, have a depressed Martian with a bottle of who knows what, sitting at the bar and just staring at a picture of a woman and a child smiling lovingly at the camera. He keeps stroking his thumb over it, then looking wrecked and saying something like 'god damn it' under his breath before he pours himself another drink. One of his arms is still wrapped up in a sling against his chest.
If he recognizes you, he might look up when you get close, and sigh. "Hey, partner. Everythin' alright?" Because it's a lot easier to worry about other people, than to keep being miserable about yourself.
LEST YOU BE JUDGED
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Don't ask about the blood
[ It's been a long day ]
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is this cheating or do i get to do this
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don't all comment at once
rip
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armsface in it ](no subject)
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Loose lips sink ships >:|
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later, once they're done talking about him
Hi.
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y'all are saying what about her now
( Let's just pretend her hair is accurate here... )
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[Blessed Stormfather judge out of her earshot. Not just because she's recently acquired a sword.]
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This is the best tbh
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backdated to earlier in the thread I guess
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Teen hot maybe back in 1996
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belatedly slides in
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late to this party
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I am the latest to this oops
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Technically he's just shown as a suit of armour but...
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003
He sighs softly, trying to be patient. It's a difficult thing when he's still struggling to walk without exhausting himself, but he would be much worse off if not for the help he'd received from so many. For all of the complications of life here, he must remember the kindness that goes with it.
So, he murmurs gently, "Hush, Charlotte. You will have to be satisfied with what I give you." The bat squeaks, but finally settles in, practically nesting in his golden curls.
There's a pause as he notices Alex down the way at the bar, and it's not hard to see the photograph. A woman and a child; he'd expected that Alex was a parent based on his behavior. Clearly, he must miss them.
Alucard approaches, letting out a sigh as he sits down next to the Martian. He raises a brow at Alex, but finds himself lacking surprise at the question. Alex is a thoughtful man, and it must be easier to focus on others than his own need.
"I am recovering," Alucard says as truthfully as he can. "You, however, seem most distracted, my friend."
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"Yeah, I - wait - what the hell?" Looking right at your hair, kid. What the fuck is that?
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"Alex?" he calls brightly, hoping to dislodge him from whatever it is he's seeing but he also approaches slowly so as not to startle him. His hood is drawn up over ever-present bruises and Max tips his head curiously from his place beside Frank, the glint of the nameplate on his collar catching artificial light and throwing it back Alex's way. More seriously, he asks, "What happened?"
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He looks at an utter loss.
Slowly, he holds up the photo.
"... I thought I'd lost it."
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003
"I'm fine, but you're not. What's wrong?"
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His shoulders sink, a little, even if he's not sure why the shame is even sharper now that she's here. Probably just - Mars. Who knows. But he looks at her helplessly, then shakes his head, holding out the photo.
"Found this in my drawers."
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003:
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He picks up the drink he'd already poured, and finished it off, before pushing the glass towards him. Top him off, friend?
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( 3 )
It’s like this, giddy and breathless with restored strength, that Apollo arrives in the bar. His pack of cards are here, abandoned from last night’s late evening/early morning session, tucked away behind the bar where anyone can help themselves. He almost misses Alex sitting there as he retrieves them, but he turns at that familiar voice and gives him a beaming grin.
"Hey, not bad, thanks..."
But then his eyes catch on the glint of liquid and glass and Apollo belatedly realises just what kind of situation he’s intruded upon.
“How about you, sailor?" He hesitates, expression falling in to one of concern as he eyes the drink. "I see you're going for the liquid breakfast today..."
(In all honesty, Apollo has no idea what time it is. Breakfast time, lunchtime, morning, afternoon, night, who the hell knows when you’re on a space station with a hundred sunrises a day?)
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Alex did not look, or feel, energised. In fact, he felt completely the opposite. He glanced at the bottle when Apollo mentioned it, but then gave a rolling shrug.
"Pretty sure I'm at least on dinner, Partner." His eyes dropped down for a second, silence, before he slowly pushed the picture across the counter. "This turned up. Outta nowhere. It's mine, but it wasn't there before."
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3
Is that your family?
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All he could do was swallow and nod, and look back at the picture. ]
Yeah. [ He puts it down on the counter and pushes it closer so she could see it better. He points to the kid. ]
That's my son, Melas. [ And then he he points to the woman. ] And that's my - that's his mother. Talissa.
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CLOSED PROMPTS: REVERIE ACTION
(cw: body fluids, disorientation, hallucinations, dehydration/desiccation, death)
Alex wakes because of thirst. His jumpsuit, the sheets of his bed, his hair are all drenched in sweat. He stumbles to the bathroom unit to pour himself a glass of water, hits his hip against the sink because he didn't quite calculate the distance right, because he stumbled again. Just how much did he drink last night?
He looks up into the mirror, and something's wrong. His cheekbones stand out more than usual, his eyes hollow, lips dry and tongue heavy inside his mouth. There's a voice inside his head. Talissa? "You should've stayed with us," she's saying. "You should've been a better husband. It was your duty to Mars. To us."
"Why didn't you stay, Daddy?" Melas asks, plaintively.
Alex pours himself some water and finds that his hands are shaking. That the bones of his wrists stand out more than usual, the tendons in his hands in stark relief. He's still sweating -- sweating enough that already, sweat is running down his arms, his neck, his legs.
Something is definitely wrong.
"Why didn't you stay?" Melas asks again.
He tries to take a drink, but his hands are shaking so hard that he can't get the glass to his mouth, and instead he spills it on himself. He swears, the glass slipping from his hand and shattering on the sink.
He stumbles back, but he's still sweating. Talissa's voice haunts him, Melas' doubly so. Again and again and again. He fumbles for his comm, but his fingers don't work, so he tries to make for the door - but doesn't make it before he ends up on the ground, legs no longer able to carry him. Lifting a hand to his face reveals the skin hanging loosely off bones and some muscle, not nearly as much mass filling out his hand, his arm, his legs as before. Calling for help is no use; he can't get out more than a raspy sound, throat completely dry.
It gets harder to keep his eyes open.
"Why didn't you stay?"
Alex falls unconscious and some time later dies of dehydration in a pool of his own sweat. He wakes again, unsure how much time has passed. There's no sign of Talissa or Melas, but there is dried sweat on his skin, his clothes, the floor. He lays there for a long time, shivering, breathing hard, focusing his eyes on the shattered glass across the room. Get up.
Get up. Get up, Kamal.
He gets to the door, and it's locked - but it opens for him, stumbling out into the hall.
>> Prax ( feel free to switch to brackets)
"Doc." His voice rasps against his throat, but at least it's there. "Doc. Doc!"
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>> Amos
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>> Bobbie, Naomi, Miller, Frank
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slams in (lovingly) (and with permission)
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Roci Puppy Pile - Backdated to Post Alex's Reverie Action
So they commandeered one of the family rooms on deck six. It still wasn't big enough for all of them, but that was fine - mattresses got dragged from individual rooms and laid out on the floor to make room for everyone.
Alex, for his part, was seeming a lot calmer, now that they had a plan and now that he could make sure that it couldn't happen to anyone else - even if he still had a far away distracted look in his eye and even if his hands still shook, when he didn't take pains to hold them still. Once everything was set up, he sank back against the wall until he was sitting up the mattress below it, letting out a long, tired breath as he leaned back.
It didn't smell like sweat and stink, in here, but he swore he could still smell it in his nose when he closed his eyes.
He tried to focus on the others, catch snippets of their conversations, so that he didn't end up just replaying Talissa and Melas's voices in his head. ]
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Hey. What other Kamal family recipes are you keeping in your back pocket?
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003
"Sorry if this is intrusive -" She has to pause because she's really not sorry to be intrusive at all and it takes a lot to act like she is. "But you look like you need a distraction. How good are you with numbers?"
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"I uh - I'm alrigh', darlin'. Don't - don't you worry about me." However-- "... Did you need help with somethin'?"
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terrible action stuff - ota
By midafternoon, she can't brush it off anymore. Her usual long, easy strides have become shorter, shuffling. She's exhausted—it's like just walking down one long hallway winds her, but when she looks in the mirror is when her stomach finally drops. It isn't just that she feels weak, it's that she is. She's thinned out, like some pampered Earther that's never worked a day in their lives. She isn't emaciated, but she's softer and slimmer than she's ever been, than she thinks she's even physically capable of being, and it unsettles her so badly that she covers the mirror in her room with a jumpsuit. Even that leaves her out of breath.
All she can think of is the video of Alex, withering away to nothing, locked in his room alone. For a second, she considers messaging him, but then she remembers the look on his face after he showed her the footage, and she doesn't. She doesn't contact anyone else, either. She goes to the mess hall instead, but when she goes to grab her food from one of the replicators, she can't even lift the plate. She can't even shift it. Panic rises in her throat, and she freezes up, trembling.
mess hall.
Clara plunks her cup of tea down and moves to the replicator as quickly as she can, scooting past empty tables and chairs. Her eye had already been on Bobbie since she walked into the room for a fresh cuppa, but now it's out of concern rather than interest.
"You alright?" Her hand rests on Bobbie's arm, then backs off, uncertain.
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closed to alex!
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naomi!
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» the gym
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mess hall
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action nonsense
Nothing. His brain goes from overcrowded to blissfully empty, and honestly? It feels good.
He tilts his head back a little where he sits on the observation deck, closing his eyes and taking in the white noise before he opens them again, looking on at the moons ahead of them. No worry. No thoughts of how to go home. No missing anything, or anyone. No yearning to be out there. Nothing. It's a beautiful thing, and his body entirely relaxes.
He takes his shotgun from where it was standing beside him, holds it up, looks into the sights. Takes a deep breath, holds it. Calm, focused, back to who he's supposed to be. What he's supposed to be. There's no regret there, no bad thoughts. He is what he is. ]
I am what I am.
[ It's a whisper, down the barrel of the gun. He is going to sleep so well, later. ]
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[ Says the scrawny guy in horn rimmed glasses, currently holding his hands up in a surrendering "I come in peace" gesture, because you're pointing a gun at the window into space. ]
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After being contacted by Clara.
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mess hall; the morning after sad parents club meeting
She's at one of the smaller mess hall tables, slumped over a cup of this place's sad excuse for coffee. At least the caffeine should help a little, if she manages to keep it down. ]
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So, after a night where he spent more time thinking about Prax than sleeping, Amos is walking down to the mess hall, the limp still sort of obvious, when he spots Naomi, and wow, isn't that a sight he's not seen in a long time.
She's hungover, and he can tell from the second he sees her. Her hair's limp, her eyes are closed, she looks in pain. Does it have anything to do with Prax's state last night?
Without even thinking about it, Amos goes to the best of the fabricators, the one he and Terezi worked on - still far from 100%, but slightly better results than the others, and gets it to make pancakes and some syrup that looks way too pale to be maple, but can't be worse than the toppings they get on the Roci. He then punches in requests for eggs and bacon, and loads it all up on a plate, bringing it to Naomi's table and sliding it in front of her, careful. ]
Mornin'.
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