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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Alex does indeed give a look that translates into 'What even is your life, Apollo', though in his defense he does his best to keep up, even if it doesn't make any sense. Aging up...

9 years put her right around the same age as Melas, then. Eighteen, however, did not.

"Did she, uh - was it sudden? Or was it like time speedin' up?"

Bear with him, he's trying.

"Sudden," Apollo replies with the same grimace. "One moment she was eight years old, just as normal, and then..."

Of course in hindsight Apollo now knows that it wasn't his fault - it wasn't his terrible parenting, during those awful three years of being a single father - but it still stings a little bit. Not just because it happened on his watch, but because Apollo had honestly wanted more time. He reaches for Alex's bottle, pouring them both another drink.

"I think she was sick of being treated like a little girl. She hated not being useful. She wanted to help, to fight, to be a part of the team properly." Apollo shakes his head wearily. "I guess kids always want to grow up too fast..."

He gave Apollo an honest look of sympathy. It was hard to wrap his head around, but not impossible - and missing ten years in the blink of an eye?

Alex mourned every year he missed, even knowing it was his own fault. This felt a lot worse.

"Most kids don't have the power to make it happen, though."

"No," Apollo agrees, almost glumly. It's not a good look on someone who is as sunny as Apollo usually is.

"Midnighter missed out so much. It wasn't his fault, not really. But still... that was time he's never going to get back again."

With a shiver, Apollo (belatedly) realises what he's saying. And who he's saying it to. He gives Alex a quick, pained look of sympathy before hastily adding:

"It might be different with you. With your son. You might still be able to fix it."

He doesn't even look at Apollo, the blade of guilt sliding easily through his ribs. He just stared down into his drink.

"... Maybe." Said with the weight of someone who knew there wasn't any hope, there. "But I don't think so. Best I can do now is - is try to be someone he can be proud of. Even if I can't ever really be his dad."

He feels the weight of Alex's words in the space between them, heavy and unhappy. There's no magic word that Apollo can say that will make any of it better. There's no dreaded enemy to vanquish that will suddenly make Alex's life that much easier. It's just a matter of squaring up to the painfully human weight of responsibility, love and failure. Apollo's heart drops in to his stomach in pity for Alex. And for his son. Carefully, gently, he reaches out with a warm hand to cover Alex's forearm with a sympathetic squeeze.

"That's still something."

It's a damn sight better than nothing.

He relaxed a little, just by the tough, letting it ground him. But he turned his fingers around his empty glass.

"... Yeah. Or it would be, if weren't all stuck out here."

He sighed, raising a hand to pat Apollo's wrist, before sliding himself off the bar stool.

"Think I'm gonna turn in. I'll catch you later, Cowboy."