orderfromchaos | 3 - open spam + public + maintenance filter + private to Elsa

[Open spam]

[Dillon looks like he just crawled out of a vat of blood, ash, and partially coagulated human organs - because, as it happens, he did. There are strange patterns in the carnage, pathways where muscle fibers wriggled across his cheek to clump together or shards of bone forged thin wedge paths across his drenched clothes to rejoin a scrap of synovial cartilage, concentric webs of extraneous blood vessels plastered over his pants in bizarre, gridlike patches. His eyes are raw, and his cheeks are streaked, almost clean from sobbing. He's slumped against the wall, dripping dark ruddy muck, gulping down air, starting and staring furtively around, one hand braced against the wall, the other reaching out to no one, taut, shaking.]

- Winston!

[Another gulp, involuntary, unsteady. He pulls his hand back, almost covers his eyes, remembers it's filthy just in time. His eyes flutter closed, and he groans, then tries to stumble to his feet, but he feels nearly catatonic, cored out by the horror he's observed - absorbed - and bereft without the others. He's on the barge. He's - some species of safe, here. No one stays dead long enough to drag him into it. He laughs, quiet, brokenly, with the space of one breath.]

[Public, later]

[His hair is still damp, and his skin looks pink, a little raw. He's been scrubbing and scrubbing. His eyes are deeply, terribly sad, but he can't quite look straight at the screen.]

I'm sorry for the - mess. If you saw it. It's not. Anyone on the barge. I'll clean it up now.

[Private to the maintenance crew and possible future maintenance crew]

That shouldn't - it's not in you guys' job description. But if I could borrow some supplies. That'd be good.

[Private to Elsa, also later]

Please tell me you're okay.

[OOC: multiple respondents to his arrival totally okay; if any flood is good for wibbly time, it's this one.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Yes. [Although she identifies with the story for a completely different reason: she thinks of herself as the cat, because running away and hiding has always seemed like the best, safest solution.

She hesitates for a second before asking a question she's been sitting on since he got back.]

Why did you want to see me?

Just. Checking in, once I remembered what I was doing here.

[There's a lot of stuff he doesn't know how to deal with at home, but at least he can make sure she's okay.]

[She still doesn't necessarily understand the importance of seeing her specifically, especially when he was really upset, but. It's not the worst thing, probably.]

Well, thank you. You've been very kind to me.

Guess I'm doing something right, at least.

[It makes him smile, very small. He doesn't know how much good he's actually done, but - it's something. He closes his eyes, lets go of his knees enough to lean back against the couch. He's so tired. Bone-deep, deeper, soul-deep. He didn't know it was possible to be this tired. And he worries, with a shiver, that the moment he drops to sleep he'll be back in that pit.]

I still don't understand why you think you haven't.

[He's made mistakes, he hasn't had control, he's been manipulated... but she's never seen him do any of that here. In comparison, it seems like he's been doing pretty well for himself.]

[He sighs, scrubs a hand over his face.]

I just - at home, it feels like the more I try to fix things, the worse it turns out. And I killed so many people. And I'm trying to make up for it, but it's like I'm in a hole and all I have is a shovel, and...

It's easier, here. Everything is already so crazy, I don't. Destabilize it.

[She nods, but doesn't really know what else she can say. She still thinks being able to undo some of the damage must be better than not being able to do anything, but then again, she hasn't had to live with what he's done.

And knowing her, she'd probably be taking it a lot worse.]

[He reaches over, squeezes her gloved hand, lets go again. Small touches, getting her used to more little cracks in her isolation without the world falling apart. And it's a comfort for him, too.]

You're a better friend than you think, you know that?

[Touch might be something she can get used to - it's not as though she doesn't miss it - but it's still early days, and even though she knows she won't hurt Dillon even if she wanted to, her first instinct is still to jerk her hand way. It's not quite fast enough to avoid the gesture entirely, but it's still a thing that happens, and it takes her a moment to get anywhere close to relax again.

She does manage some self deprecating humor, though.]

I don't. [Otherwise she'd think she was a better friend.]

[He snorts softly, weary but amused by it anyway.]

Yeah, alright. I'll just have to keep saying so, I guess.

[And again, it kind of makes her think of Anna, and how she'd done everything she could to keep her sister away from her to keep her safe, but Anna had just kept coming back for more until she finally didn't anymore. And even after the knocks on the door had stopped being a morning routine, she'd still tried.

At least she can't hurt Dillon the way she'd hurt Anna.

She tries to smile a little, mostly for his benefit. She wants to say something else, like she's glad he's not hurt, but she doesn't actually really know how to say it. She still feels rusty at all of this, and like maybe she doesn't want to get unrusty.]

[He gets some of it from her smile, the well-meaning uncertainty, and that feels warm, feels like enough. He settles back into the couch, lets coiled in on himself.]

Would you read to me a little? I'll probably be asleep in a minute.

[Well, that's definitely not helping the previously small similarities between you and a different redhead - not that Anna had necessarily been awesome at sitting still enough to finish an entire story when she was younger, but - and as complicated as that might be, she feels like she can do this.

So she nods, and looks over to the stack of books she's assembled. It's a weird collection.]

Do you have any requests?

Whatever I interrupted is fine.

[Her voice is nice, is all, is a pull against all the things waiting for him in his nightmares. He didn't get the Vector dreams when he was on the barge before, but this isn't something the world is trying to tell him, it's just - what he's lived. He's so tired, though. Maybe he doesn't have to dream at all.]

Alright.

[She picks up the book of fables and turns to the next one, starts reading without any further hesitation. It's easier to do this than worry about... everything.]

[He tries to follow along, but he's asleep in about five minutes. He cares about her, trusts her more than anyone since Deanna, trusts himself not to hurt her more than he should, probably. But he needs that, in moments like this, and soon he's dozing quietly against the cushions.]

[She could just leave him there. They're in a secluded enough part of the library that she doesn't think he'd be disturbed for a while if she left, but.

Well.

Reading in her room isn't that much different from reading here.]