closed.

[revivalism]

CHARACTERS: Kieren Walker & Simon Monroe
LOCATION: Passenger Quarters, Floor 35
WARNINGS: Dead bodies
SUMMARY: What sort of squares actually listen to ominous graffiti warnings?
NOTES: Backdated


[ When he finally takes the blue lift to the passenger quarters, Simon presses the button for 010 first, but by the time the lift stops he's changed his mind. The door slides open without his moving from the back corner, head held askew to peer down the visible length of the corridor, and then slides shut again.

There's another painted warning outside the lift on 035, and he does at least pause to consider it before setting off down the silent hallway. If they (they, whoever) put something in his locker they may have put something in his cell. Quarters. Whatever they're calling them. But 118 doors is a long walk, and midway he veers off into a kitchen. He doesn't understand where he is, doesn't believe the explanations he's been offered, and doesn't at all know what he's doing. But whatever it is, a knife seems like a good first step.

Some drawer-slamming and utensil-rattling later he's found a carving knife and tucked it into the inside of his suit jacket. He steps back into the corridor still straightening his clothes with his free hand—the other arm's hooked around his bulky assortment of personal belongings, fingers holding the Bible tightly shut—and he only glances back the way he came out of habitual precaution.

It's well enough he did. He isn't alone. For a fraction of a second his wariness spikes, but then recognition settles in, even at a bit of a distance, and his shoulders loosen. ]

Comments

~*~all icons magically sans makeup/contacts~*~

[traumata]

[ By the time Kieren's finally gotten free of the medical bay, all of the friendly welcomes and the strangers politely dodging the obvious questions, he's exhausted. The desperate need to be back in Roarton is inevitable and instinctive, one that sinks in heavily by the time he reaches the lift. Because it's a shithole, yes, but the devil you know — and at least he's not completely alone there.

They've explained the graffiti a few times over. It makes sense, in a ridiculous spaceship sort of way, but he still ends up eyeing the panel before hitting the button for 035.

Curiosity, partly. There's also the urge to avoid people for just a moment longer. He hasn't got any fields or empty woods to run off into, here, so maybe a creepy, abandoned hallway on a spaceship will have to do. It takes about a minute of being in said creepy hallway for him to think maybe it's a poor substitute, and he's staring at a careless red scrawl on one of the walls when he hears the sounds coming from the kitchen.

And absolutely doesn't go towards them. Instead he freezes, watching, and he's rewarded a few long seconds later when a familiar figure emerges from the doorway. ]

Simon?

[ It ends up sounding weirdly accusatory, made sharp by incredulity. It's been a very strange day. This is a nice surprise, all things considered, but still. Space. ]

hooah

[revivalism]

[ The tone gives him pause—maybe half a second worth of pause, total, before he ignores it and moves forward. He stops at arm's length, just close enough to reach out and clasp Kieren's shoulder while he makes a swift head-to-toe search for injury.

Nothing. Nothing he can see, anyway. Limbs all still fully attached. That's good. And it's only after that concern is addressed, and he's looking Kieren in the face again, that he really takes conscious note of what's different.

There are more important things. There's whether Kieren remembers how they ended up here, how long it's been since he's had his dose, if anyone else Simon should know about is around, how they're going to get home, the warnings on the walls, the distant whir of machinery, the assortment of sick and mutated people in the medbay. Any other thing Simon could possibly comment on, really, would be more important than Kieren's pale skin and pinprick eyes. Simon's aware. His first quick twitch of a smile is directed mostly at himself, amusement at his own priorities; the second one, wider and lengthier, is for Kieren. ]

You look nice.

don't get too excited simon

[traumata]

[ The hand on his shoulder earns a quick glance. Uncertain, maybe, but there's no tension or attempt to move away from the gesture, and his focus is back on Simon's face just in time to observe that check-up and the completely unexpected compliment.

There are absolutely more important things. There's the medication, the fact that they're on a spaceship, that thing where Kieren's ninety-nine percent sure he just had a conversation with Death. There's an obvious delay while that all registers, but then it's pushed to the side for a slightly awkward smile. ]

Half dead, actually. According to the nice woman at the jump.

[ Half being the joke. He'd almost laughed inappropriately at the time, but she'd hardly been in on said joke; Simon's a safer bet. The delivery's as good-natured as it is sarcastic. It's easier to deflect the compliment than accept it, and the word "jump" in particular gets a heavy dose, like he can't believe he's buying into the weird lingo already. There's also before the jump, of course, Freddie and Gary and showing up at Simon's door in the middle of the night. If it'd seemed complicated then, now it's about a billion times worse; awkwardly sidestepping it instead of admitting how insanely relieved he is to see Simon here is clearly the way to go. ]

you're just like an aaaaangel your skin makes me cryyyy

[revivalism]

Yeah. [ Exactly. ] Nice.

[ Somewhere else he'd move closer and dip his chin down to account for the inch difference in their heights, probably. But if he could ignore the graffiti and long abandoned stretch of hallway behind Kieren long enough to forget where they are, he couldn't ignore jump, so his hand slips off Kieren's shoulder and his smile slips off his face. Sorting through the jumble of secondary concerns, now that the inappropriate flirting is out of the way, takes him a couple seconds. He spends them looking down at what's cradled in the crook of his arm—the injector case, the bottle, the Bible—and trying to arrange his concerns in order of what's most likely to get either of them killed first.

It won't matter where they are or how they arrived there if someone shoots them. ]

Have you had your dose?

backs away slowly

[traumata]

[ That affirmation earns a slightly awkward grin. Kieren may disagree vehemently, but Simon's easy confidence is still amusing; a bit infectious, though he's loathe to admit it.

The question isn't a surprise. It's something that hasn't completely slipped his mind since he woke up in medbay, and though he doesn't actually look at the kit he's got under arm, his grip on it shifts slightly, hyperaware. ]

I don't know. I mean, yes, I had, but that was back home, and everyone's talking about how time's off here— I feel fine.

[ Despite the uncertain reply, the conclusion's fairly assertive. It's true, too, but he knows how quickly that can change. His confident expression gives way under that doubt, brows knitting together as he finally looks down towards the kit, fumbling just slightly with the rest of the loot he's got in hand (clothes, mostly; the Blue Oblivion's still back where he found it).

Wasting it would be a mistake, given what everyone's said. Missing a dose would be worse. ] Maybe we should get on a new schedule.

you float like a feaaather--p.s. short on purpose so I'll stop being so slow I'm sorryyyyy

[revivalism]

[ Simon probably would have taken Kieren's lead either way--injections now, or sticking close until they could tell they were necessary--but this is the less risky plan, and his answering nod is a touch relieved. Missing a dose isn't like taking Blue Oblivion. You can't come back from it without help. ]

Come on. [ He gestures back the way he came with his head and the elbow of his occupied arm. They may never have another use for the kitchens as long as they're here, but at the moment tables and chairs would be good. Better than inviting Kieren back to his room, however nice he looks. He starts walking without waiting, used to being followed. ]

What are they saying about time?

ruthlessly boomerangs u but no seriously length doesn't matter!! actionspam if u want and no rush!

[traumata]

[ There's a slight hesitation after Simon turns, and Kieren watches his back for a moment while he's otherwise preoccupied — curious, maybe a bit bemused. It only lasts a few seconds before he's falling into stride, attention shifting to idly take in their surroundings again.

The graffiti's unorganized, showing up on walls and doors alike. The red scrawl on the doors reminds him of the bible. Definitely not mentioning that to Simon. ]

That it's inconsistent. That when people are in the pods, they've got no idea how long they're actually asleep.

[ Which is horrifying to think about, really. The possibility of falling out of a pod and being completely rabid doesn't strike him as one that promises a long life expectancy. ]

mwah

[revivalism]

[ That is horrifying. So is the helplessness of being in the pods in the first place, at the mercy of whoever or whatever brought them here and found the time to tattoo them before they woke up, and being trapped here at all— ]

We'll find a way out of here.

[ No, they won't. But he doesn't quite get it yet, the enormity of the situation. Maybe once he's looked out the window. For now there's no sign of stars, and the quiet background hum could be the ventilation of an underground bunker as easily as the engine and environmental systems a colossal space ship. The medbay was advanced but the experience of it—waking up disoriented and helpless—was familiar. The graffiti reminds him of home.

In the kitchen, some of the drawers and cabinets are still cracked open from his scavenging, but otherwise it's pristine. He puts his neurotriptyline kit and Bible down on the first table. ] You haven't seen anyone else. Amy, or.

[traumata]

[ Or, as if there are that many options. His first thought's of Jem. The full implications of time being "off" here haven't set in, so the options are fairly slim when it comes to faces he'd actually like to see.

He doesn't quite realize that the mess is Simon's fault, momentarily distracted by the drawers and open cupboards, but his gaze skips to the bible when it's placed on the table. ]

Just you.

[ Which isn't a good thing, the two of them stranded here, but it isn't a bad thing. Despite having no idea where they stand, he's still oddly at ease. Kieren puts his own kit and the bundle of his spare clothes on the table, mousse and contacts wrapped up and out of sight. ] But there's a network. We could check.

[ He hadn't seen Simon at the jump, so there's still a chance they've missed someone else. He aims for optimistic as he says it, distracting himself from the task at hand while he takes a seat. The injections are old hat, but they'll never really be pleasant; the change in scenery doesn't do much to help. ]