reverielogs | (no subject)

» 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.

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Yeah, literally trying to raise someone on comms when you're holding the comm that they use when they do is not the brightest measure, but Alex is far from thinking straight. As soon as he sees Amos, the relief hits him like high gee juice. It's easy to see that the other man is fine, the muscles of his arms clearly fully intact, nothing leaner about his figure. He reaches out too, gripping Amos's t-shirt at his waist, the cloth just balling into his fist, no actual grip on Amos himself.

Prax at least had gotten him to change, so his suit didn't look crusty with dried sweat, or stink of it - though he still might. It wasn't his first concern.

"We gotta check the others," he said, the words coming out in a rush. "We gotta make sure there ain't nothin' -- that there ain't nothing wrong with 'em, that they're okay and that they aren't hearin' things. We can't leave them alone, Amos-- Prax is fine, but we really can't leave any of 'em alone--"

Amos frowns, his other hand coming up to steady Alex at the shoulders. Is he hypoxic? Feverish?

"What the hell, man, what's going on? Why wouldn't the others be okay?"

Amos leans closer, trying to look straight into Alex's eyes just to gauge what exactly is going on, if he's sick, or if something happened, anything that would trigger this sort of behavior. Alex is usually a calm and collected kinda guy, ready to throw them into the most dangerous maneuvers without breaking a sweat.

So why is he now?

"What happened?"

In a pilot's seat, Alex could take anything. Even if they were seconds from death, he was still in control. Even responsible for the lives of his family, he could deal with it, because he could do something about it. This wasn't like that. This was madness, and it terrified him.

His eyes are wild, and he is definitely, definitely not okay, though he manages to focus his gaze on Amos after a few seconds.

"I don't know," He admits, and it's almost helpless. "I don't know, Amos, I don't know if I'm goin' mad or if they did somethin' to me or - But I couldn't stop it, and I couldn't do anythin', I couldn't even get my fingers to work my comm--"

Amos tightens his fingers around Alex's shoulders, shaking him gently. "Hey, hey! Alex, calm down," he says, firmly, even with his voice low.

He pulls Alex to the side, leaning a shoulder against the wall as he keeps his eyes on Alex.

"Start at the beginning. What couldn't you stop?"

Alex swallows, roughly, and nods - not because he's agreeing to anything, exactly, so much as he's just trying to get himself to calm down. At least he's already tried to explain to this to Prax. Amos will be easier. Amos might judge him when it came to his family, but that ship had long sailed. He already knew what a terrible husband and father he was. He'd called him on it. So it wasn't as hard to admit.

"Woke up an' I was- I was sweatin' real bad. Real bad, Amos. My whole bed was drenched with it, my suit--" he faltered, eyes glazing slightly, but he shook it off with a shudder and forced himself to continue. "I never felt so thirsty in my life. I got up, to go get a drink, and that's when I - when I started hearin' 'em--"

His eyes met Amos', terrified and pained. "I- I could hear 'em, just like they were here, Amos, sayin' I should never have - I shouldn't have left Mars, I--" He was failing, again, his breath coming too fast and too ragged. "I was falling apart, my face - it was all falling right off my bones--"

The more Alex talks, the deeper the frown on Amos's face grows. It's not fear, but Alex's words are deeply concerning all the same. After everything he's seen in barely a month on this station, Amos thought that he couldn't weirded out anymore, but hearing this from Alex is different.

"But you're here. You're here right now and your face is normal -" like they both need the reassurance, Amos reaches up and pats Alex's cheek.

"Who could you hear? Alex, breathe. Who did you hear?"

Edited (icon) 2018-06-14 09:22 (UTC)

Alex took a sharp breath in through his nose, holding it before letting it out again. He could still feel where Amos patted his cheek, and part of him half expected the muscle to slough off in Amos's wake. But it didn't. Breathe.

"My- Talissa. Melas." His voice was shaking slightly. "He kept asking me why I - why I left them, Amos, why I failed them, why I failed Mars--" And it hurts, because he can't quite believe that they were wrong. "I - I collapsed on the floor-- water just comin' off me and - the stain is still there, Amos--"

Amos's not about to minimize Alex's experience, not when he can see the fear in his eyes, hear it in his voice. But maybe that's why Alex is here, talking to Amos - some rationalization. The two of them have gone through a ton of shit with each other, and Alex had to know that Amos would try to make sense of shit, find a solution, as desperate as it could be, sometimes.

Like blowing up the Cap'n instead of letting the Hybrid get to them.

"Alex, that was a hallucination. Got to be, right? You must have - I don't know, some kind of flash flu, or something? Who knows what kind of viruses are around this station. You were feverish."

That's - all he can think it could be. That it had to be. His voice was still soft, though, not judging, not mocking, not disbelieving. Just trying to make sense of what Alex was telling him.

"I - That's gotta be it, right?" As soon as Amos offers a rational thought, Alex grips it like a life line.

"It can't - that can't have been real. But the - I ain't lyin', Amos, the stain's still there. Hell, I can show it to you. That ain't - that ain't just a normal flu--"

"I'm not saying you're lying. I trust you."

It's said with feeling, because he does, and it's not the kind of thing he says often. It matters.

"But nothing's normal around here, is it? No surprise that whatever illness got you wasn't either."

He lets out a breath, his eyes still a little wild, but starting to calm down. He has no idea how Amos always managed to stay so god damn calm, even during the weirdest, worst shit - but he appreciates it.

"Yeah. Yeah, that's - that's a good point. Some - some weird - weird special Reverie disease. That's it."

Amos nods, hand squeezing Alex's shoulder, trying to be as reassuring as he can, which is not much, but. Better than nothing. Maybe this is what Alex needs right now, some rationality.

"Yeah, must be. You're okay, right? You're feeling okay?"

"I'm - I keep expecting my skin to fall off, but it ain't. I'm physically okay, I think."

He doesn't sound very sure about that. He mostly just sounds queasy as hell.

"Just, uh - if it's alright, I wouldn't mind some company, for a while."

Amos nods, patting Alex's shoulder before pulling him off the wall and towards the ladder at the end of the corridor.

"'Course. Let's go, got some consoles to fix, and I could use a hand."