ataraxionlogs | EVENT: BIA ▒ STERN

CHARACTERS: Ensemble production!
LOCATION: The stern areas of the ship
WARNINGS: Disturbing imagery, violence, psychological trauma, gore, etc.
SUMMARY: Characters have to fight to find their way back to each other from being increasingly isolated and plagued by their deepest fears and most hopeful dreams.
NOTES: May 27 onwards.

An echoing boom comes from deep in the middle of the ship, shakes its way through the trees and waters of the Oxygen Gardens, down into the maze of walkways and mechanics that make up the Engineering Complex. A sense of danger rolls through with it, enough to make you pause in your work, set down tools or supplies, ignore the thrumming pain in your head to find out what.

Trapped far away from the comforts of beds and kitchens and slow approaching necessity of gravcouches, you only have each other to turn to. But soon that grows difficult, turnings leading you off path, door slamming shut behind you. In the increasing isolation panic swells like an infection up through your mind-- but then soothes. You find your way into an unexpected comfort, the company of a long-gone friend, an old home filled with happy memories. You linger, drift into contentment, and yet it still can't calm one deep nagging doubt: you aren't safe where you've found yourself.

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I think so. I think so, [Harry says, of Songbird. He lifts his hand, fingers curling around the edge of her palm. It's not a very hard grip, but firm and warm. He doesn't want to let her go if he doesn't have to. There's bleeding waiting on the other side of separation.

The sky complains, but he doesn't look up.] This place is a trap, [he tells her. He doesn't know about Smiley, can't draw the comparison with the troubles she's fouled up against before, but he presses her with an earnest stare, willing her to believe him, rather than let herself be taken by what's easy and beautiful and smells beautifully of springtime greens and baguettes and river water. Or whatever France smells like. Harry has only been once or twice, mostly for work, and had to portkey out the same day he came in.]

Everyone's been bleeding. The scientists have figured it out. If we separate-- I mean, if you go too long without touching another passenger, you get hurt. I think, [he steps closer to her, urgently.] I think dreams like these-- and the nightmares are meant to keep us apart.

[ She thinks it must hurt to have her hand against the bruising, but he's covered it with his own. Despite the situation, despite her confusion, she can't help but flush pink, just slightly. It's a comforting gesture, but more than that... well, she doesn't exactly have the vocabulary for it, as she's never had a "crush" on anyone. ]

A trap? [ Elizabeth repeats, the moment fading. Danger. She steels herself, gently removing her hand from his face, but taking his in her own instead, not willing to let go in case... well, in case of anything. ]

Physical contact. [ Nothing she's shy about, being the antithesis of social norms. She nods slowly, comprehension dawning. ] Then-- Well, aren't we safe here, as long as no one is alone?

[ Is she hesitant to leave? Yes. But, who would want to run out on one of their wildest dreams? ]

[Harry understands her hesitation. Oh, does he understand. Only a few hours ago, he'd been home in Sirius' flat, the narrow apartment less musty and old and webbed with dingy secrets, helping his family put away his old crib and a few other things. They'd decided to do it the Muggle way, so they could turn things over with their hands instead of floating things by with magic.]

That might be true, [he answers.] But I think it'll start to fade away, now that you know it's not real. Now that you won't fall into the trap. [He suspects it's because the ship doesn't want them to have nice things unless they're bought into the lie, hook line and sinker; the crueller part of the trick.] I don't think it's meant to be a real sanctuary. But I'll stay with you here, if you like. [His fingers tighten on hers a moment and he smiles at her, not optimistic, but willing.

Not optimistic at all, really. The music has already stopped. Harry adds firmly,] As long as you want.

Really?

[ She looks back at it wistfully, her expression mingled sadness and longing. It's her dream, after all, and not only is it not real, but it's potentially dangerous. She thinks of her fight with Booker, of his admonishment of her reckless behaviors, and her heart sinks.

Appropriately, so does the sun, slipping just below the horizon.

Elizabeth turns back to Harry, managing a little smile. ]

Thank you for helping me, then. [ And she plants a tiny kiss on his cheek. ] Did this happen to you, too?

[ She hopes not. Harry has, Elizabeth thinks, a lot of old wounds in his own life. He doesn't seem to show it, but there moments where they're talking and she notes a touch of pained nostalgia in his voice, or some memory in his eyes. She knows the feeling, knows how it looks on others. ]

[Harry looks sad for a moment. A longer moment than those times she's seen him before. He carried Cedric's death around in his heart for a long time before he stopped mourning about it before anyone could see; he carries it around in his heart even now.] Yes, [he answers.] It was my godfather's flat. I was supposed to move in with him once. Maybe we can find it again, when we get out of here.

[Not If.] I'd like for you to be able to see it. [Even though he suspects it's hard to understand why he thought so much of it. 12 Grimmauld Place wasn't much to look at, more off-putting even than decent, old and full of old, old hate. But it had nearly become home once, the kind of home where real family lived; a sanctuary from time and hurt the same way that the Tranquility is slow becoming. He doesn't know how to say all that with words so he just looks at her with a smile, and thinks about sharing it with her, even if it's just a small trap. An escapable one.]

Want to see a spell? [he asks suddenly. The world is getting darker and it's time to bring in some light.] I used it to fight off the nightmare-monster the ship conjured up for me. To cast it, I have to think of the happiest memory I've got. The happiest real memory I've got. I don't know if it'll help you nearly the same way, but I remember you like magic.

I'd love to see it.

[ His godfather. She thinks of what she knows of godparents, the religious connotations, the social and familial ones, too. My parents were barely my parents. I have so few friends, let alone godparents.

Still, she smiles. He's incredibly sweet in a way that she's never experienced; it doesn't occur to her that it may just be kindness, friendliness, or common decency. He just is. ]

Of course. If you want to, that is. [ Elizabeth would never push him to it; she imagines it takes a lot of energy to cast spells in the same way that she can open tears. ] It... protects you, then, somehow? A spell powered by happiness?

[That's the truest way he's ever heard the Patronus described. He looks at her and smiles with his whole heart, just for a moment, while the ship is darkening around them.] Yeah. That's exactly exactly what it is.

[And then-- well. He doesn't have to, but it helps clear the Patronus' path, and it's nice, besides. so.

so he puts an arm around her to keep her close. Raises his wand.

Silver light bursts out, immediately taking shape, lines of muscle and sleek fur and a rack of handsome horns. The creature is a stag. Maybe she's never seen one before, but if she hasn't, it's a fine first introduction: the hooves and the long legs, strength and vitality rippling through it, the enormous eyes glowing dewy at her, the instant before it gives a handsome snort and gallops a vivacious circle around them. A powerful rush of light, kicking high, before its path straightens to lead them out into the ship.]

EVENT: BIA ▒ STERN

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