IC contact for lastvoyages

[cactusy]

[If I don't have an active post up, feel free to use this post to have your character call, videochat, text, or knock on Shaw's door.]

Comments

Time for vampire-enforced murder attempt!

[littletonoidea]

[Eiffel has had a really rough flood. Almost getting bled out by a vampire, ragdolled around the halls by his new inmate, fucked killed by taser bullets and still currently tolling through all of that, he really truly does plan on staying in his room.

But he's also a curious bastard. And he has a microphone set up on the hallway side of his door in lieu of a doorbell, but he barely even needs it to hear whoever keeps stomping around outside his door.

God, he knows better. He knows he knows better. But he's gotta check, just in case. If someone's hurt and he didn't do shit, he won't hear the end of it. Even from himself.

So there's a loud, distinctive creak as his door swings open, and he checks for the source.]

...Shaw?

[cactusy]

[Fuuuuuuuuuuuck

Fuck fuck fuck fuck.]

Vampire. Lestat. In my head.

[Each syllable sounds like it takes physical effort to get out, and she's sweaty and gasping with exertion, fingers clenched into tight fists.]

Lock the door. Run.

[And that's all the warning he gets before her fingers uncurl and she lunges.]

On a large sheet taped to the wall of Steve's cabin by the bed

[punched_hitler]

When Shaw does wake up from her coma following the breach, she'll find herself in a familiar bed in a familiar cabin: Steve Rogers'. There's a large sheet of paper taped to the wall, where she won't be able to miss it.

In Steve's neat handwriting, it reads:

Hi, Sameen. Welcome back. The breach is over and you've been in a coma for and then there's a space where he's left himself a spot to tape up a new bit of paper each day to say exactly how many days it's been. (Steve's been updating the count every morning.) On each piece of paper with the current count, he's also written Today is with the current day of the week.

Below that, he's written: B found you and we put you in here, rather than breaking into your cabin. It sounds like you were killed during the breach, so you're going to be death tolling when you wake up. You can send me or B a text if you need a hand getting back to your cabin. Or you can stay here as long as you want. My door is locked and you should be safe. I'm checking in at least once a day.

And finally: We are currently experiencing followed by another blank spot, where he can tape up flood or port, but which should ideally read nothing strange that I'm aware of. 

dated to March 30th-ish; open to both Steve and B!

[cactusy]

When Shaw first wakes up, she groans quietly, rolls over, and buries her face in a pillow, a position she does not move from for several hours. Eventually, though, she'll resurface and read the note.

She doesn't send Steve or B a text, but she doesn't leave, either. Whenever she's next checked on, she'll be lying on her back, staring blankly at the ceiling.

[also post-coma]

[routemistress]

[ Iris gets Steve to leave two boxes by Shaw's bedside, and a note. ]

Dear Shaw,

Hopefully someone explained about barge comas? Any road I always wake up starving, so the big box has a decent dinner in it. I heard a lot of people got killed in that breach so open the small one first if that was you. It's what I call Death Toll Soup. My boyfriend invented it for me when I got killed one time and now I keep a batch on hand at all times. It doesn't actually make the death toll go away but it does help a little.

This is the one I mentioned who used to be a Marine. He's a big part of why I took such a liking to you. He has the same quality that you do, of cutting any dynamic down to its bones in one glance. I'm not a woman who looks for security and he's not a man to bubblewrap anyone, but I feel safer with him than anyone else I ever met. Not because he'll protect me, but because whatever trouble we get in, he can think of ten ways out of it as quickly as I can, and because he can catch anything I throw him. I love him and you remind me of him, so I nipped out to see him and got him to cook us all dinner.

We put your share in a stasis box so it's still fresh and hot from our grill on the beach. Enjoy <3 <3

Love, Iris xx

[ The small box is a container of aromatic chicken soup, with ginger, lemon, garlic, chillies and whisky. The larger one has roast duck, noodles and vegetables, spicy crab cakes and little crunchy spring rolls. There's also a photograph: a big silverhaired man in a Hawai'ian shirt, basting a roasting duck over a firebox on a rocky beach. Iris is sitting on a rock next to the grill sharing out vegetable peelings and meat scraps between two German Shepherds and an apparently friendly tusked boar. ]

text; vaguely March 31st/April 1st

[cactusy]

thanks

[For the hearty meal that she hasn't eaten yet; for the soup that she has. Maybe too for the note that makes her chest feel tight for reasons she doesn't feel she has the capacity to examine too closely right now. Iris reminds her just a little of someone, too.

After a few minutes, she also sends:]

you're insane

[A boar?? What the fuck.]

Post-Coma

[never_francesca]

[She'd been...well, keeping an eye, she told herself. Not because in the breach, things had been...]

[Intense]

[Passionate]

[Keeping her awake, since.]

[Truth was, she'd...well, she'd never been with a woman before. Never even been really attracted to one, but Shaw...well, Shaw was all the damn buttons, she had to admit. Bold, capable, with that American decency and boldness that had always revved her engine.]

[But that was the Breach, this was reality. Such as it was. Who even said Shaw would be interested, let alone if Franky herself could sort out if what she'd felt had been her or that other person.]

[Naturally, the prepared meals she'd been leaving to stock Shaw's freezer with was just...a courtesy, for when she got back. Clearly, nothing more. Which did not explain why she dropped one when the door opened in front of her and Shaw was there. Awake. At an hour she hadn't expected her to be awake.]

[Oh for shit's sake, Francesca. You fought the entire fucking Japanese air force.]

[cactusy]

[Shaw, for reasons that she's choosing not to examine too closely, has been spending her death toll recuperating in Steve's cabin rather than her own - but she's dropped by her place a couple of times in the few days that she's been up, and the frozen meals hadn't been easy to miss. She's been suspecting Iris of them, or maybe Eiffel, but whoever the culprit is, their efforts don't go unnoticed or unappreciated. Every time she pops by and finds a new one by the door, she dutifully takes it inside and transfers it to her freezer.

Until one shows up just as she's leaving, a change of clothes bundled in her arms.]

Uh. Hey.

[Her eyes go from Franky's face to the package in her arms.]

Thanks.

text

[empathicfault]

Hey, let me know when you're alive again, please?

And tell me if you want something to eat. Or a dog to pet.

text; March 31st/April 1st or thereabouts

[cactusy]

already got food. wouldn't say no to the dog.

[cactusy]

[From here.]

what impression did you get

[talesuntold]

I don't think we've ever had a conversation without a difference of opinion. Which is fine, I can like all sorts of people, as long as those differences don't come back to bite anyone I care about.

So I extrapolated.

I wasn't trying to criticize you here. I do genuinely appreciate what you said.

[cactusy]

[From here.]

did the Barge give you a bisexual awakening?

[WEIRDLY WHOLESOME]

[littletonoidea]

i mean maybe?

turns out thinking everyone's hot isn't something normal god fearing texans do on a regular basis so

text; during the flood

[unknownjoy]

I got another one of your memories.

It's not good.

Should I meet you somewhere?

[He would prefer being told the love of his life is dead via text message, but most people would probably find that cold. She might not exactly be 'most people' herself, but still. He's trying to be polite.]

text; during the flood

[cactusy]

[Well, that's ominous.]

Sure. Lower deck.

[cactusy]

[From here.]

"Don't people think highly of you here...?" she says, sounding mildly baffled at that last addition. She frequently sees him pitching in various places around the ship, and his public interactions always seem to be friendly and amicable. She's definitely pegged him as one of the popular kids.

[madaboutit]

Sweeney snorts at the idea.

"Fuck." He shakes his head, his eyes wandering up to the ceiling as he actually gives the question more thought. The logic is there, if flawed. There's no way she could know, given her general observations. Sweeney wets his lip, putting his thought into words.

"More that they think I'm reliable." That is very different. You can rely on someone without giving a fuck about them, and visa versa.

"I do what's gotta be done. As long as it does, the rest of me dunn't matter all that much." It's more of a simple statement than any form of self-deprecation.

video, post-pairing announcement

[empathicfault]

Well. Looks like we've been deemed as 'compatible'. Didn't even wait until our temp time was up.

Congrats, I guess? And- sorry that I'm your problem now, officially.

audio

[cactusy]

You're sorry? And here I was worried I'd get saddled with de Lioncourt, or Octavius, or Avalon--

fun times during the port!

[weedeating]

[ He had heard that Shaw had been spending a lot of time in the caves. And, considering that Dimitri had missed the past few days in the caves because someone decided to knock him the hell out, it only made sense that he radio her for more information as he made his way through. Their conversation before this had been quick and brusque, information about the cave system, any new changes, what sort of beasts she saw...when all of a sudden, there's a large rumbling sound, the sound of communicator scraping across rock and a loud, pained, ]

Dammit!

[ From Dimitri's end. He lets out a hiss of pain and aggravation as Shaw is treated to the sound of scrambling against the rock before, ]

Can you still hear me?

woooooo

[cactusy]

Yeah.

[She sounds... well, admittedly not exactly worried, but at least focused and intent. Forget dust; you now have her undivided attention, Dimitri.]

That sounded bad; are you injured?

Text post-port tolling

[madaboutit]

Gonna have to wait the week before I do it again.

And you gotta ask for more ink.

Text post-port tolling

[cactusy]

"Do it again" can mean a couple things now.

Shortly after meeting up with Qiling; for when Shaw wakes. [Audio, after ICly waffling a bit.]

[unfavorableinstigation]

Somehow, I'd expected this to happen a whole different way.

... It still sucks, though.

If you want someone to vent at when you're awake again, I can come listen.

[Just an offer. Nothing she'll be pushy over.]

audio

[cactusy]

Kinda curious about how you expected it to happen, now. But, uh-- vent about what?

Audio, few days after port

[heyboss]

...thank you.

Audio, few days after port

[cactusy]

Don't thank me, I didn't get to you in time.

[cactusy]

[From here.]

"Yeah?" she asks, lolling her head to the side to look at him. "How so?"

[empathicfault]

"Well..." He's not entirely sure how he should put it. "We have a lot of shared experiences, to start with. His skill at reading people isn't exactly a condition, but that might also be the upper-class tendency to throw a very fancy rug over anything they don't like. And it's not like I really fared all that much better."

Will sighs and shakes his head. "I know where a lot of his reactions come from- not just because I- I see them or feel them, but I've lived them before. I've learned to keep them quiet. To myself. Malcolm's so immediate with his reactions, he's almost like a more honest version of me. Just needs to know how to interpret his own mind, so he doesn't get over-defensive. Know that he's right about what he sees, before he speaks."

He looks over to Shaw to try and see if he's making sense to her. "It would help if he understood that your personalities don't compliment each other like he thinks they do, too. But that might be a different issue."

audio

[empathicfault]

So you probably already saw the exchange, but just in case you didn't- I've taken up John Gaius on his healing offer. I can get hurt, but I should bounce back immediately.

So the next flood like that, or- whatever that was, should give you at least one less headache.

audio

[cactusy]

It was Henry off his leash; we can call it what it is.

You know the point is to help you too, right? Not just make things easier for me.

voice; after malcolm's throat-slashening;

[conning]

Shaw, I don't know if you saw the network, but Malcolm's been hurt. Lestat did it. Will might be going after him, I'm not sure.

[A pause, bracing himself for disapproval.]

I warned Lestat.

Re: voice; after malcolm's throat-slashening;

[cactusy]

He won't, I'm coming, but Caffrey, why the hell did you do that?

[pitofguilt]

[ from here ]

Not what you'd expect, huh. [ It really isn't in line with her ~image, but it's better than the shitty motel room for Jersey it used to be.

And please, Natalie's not judging. She likes that look, in fact. She herself is in underwear and a cut up band tee, lying crossways on the bed, head hanging slightly over the edge. ]

The lighting's good for the plants.

[cactusy]

Never really saw the point of plants.

[Shaw says, as she shucks off her shoes and starts undressing: jeans first, revealing a pair of boy shorts, and then her tank, leaving her in her sports bra. Only then does she take a moment to let her eyes roam appreciatively over Natalie's form.]

Sorry about your, uh-- whoever made you a one-woman woman. Guessing she left? That sucks. I don't blame you for wanting a distraction.

[She's chattier than she'd normally be, a fact that she realizes only distantly; that, it seems, is one of the biggest effects that the flood is having on her.]

three stooges

[cactusy]

[Shaw's cabin is smaller than it was a few months ago, but the furniture situation is still the same, meaning that she barely has any of it. In lieu of parking them on a(n entirely nonexistent) couch, she nudges them both towards the unmade bed, then heads for the fridge that's just a few feet away. She's in shorts, and barefoot, which means they get to see more than most just how nuts she's been going with the tattoo gun: nearly every visible bit of skin is covered in random dots and swirls of ink. Over her shoulder, she says:]

If you puke, aim for the floor, not the sheets.

[It's made of concrete for easy cleaning!]

[conning]

Neal made it to Shaw's with Malcolm's help. He was surprised and relieved that she asked, though there's a layer of apprehension in it, too. He's waiting to be yelled at once he's flopped onto the bed in his pajamas, Malcolm having left.

He brought George with him, and the cat is making the rounds of the room before returning to the mattress and climbing onto Neal's hip. He stays put, half-under the one blanket he managed to tug over him before he got tired.

"I can do that." His voice definitely still sounds like someone took a knife to his vocal cords.

juuuust post-katydo flood, pre-tribunal icouldn'thelpmyself

[conning]

Neal seesaws his way to Shaw's cabin, nearly puking twice and desperately hoping she's actually there. He feels like ass, but he's... well. He's furious, to put it lightly. He's pretty sure the last time he was this mad, he stole a gun and used a display banner to Indiana-Jones his way through a museum window.

He takes a moment outside her door to gather himself, wipe the sweat off his face with the back of one hand, and take a deep breath. Then he pounds on it, hard.

[cactusy]

No verbal response comes - no "Just a minute!" or "Who is it?" - but there's the sound of stirring from inside. About thirty seconds after he knocks, the door opens, and there stands Shaw in all her disheveled glory. She looks at him blankly for a few moments, noting both the anger and the fact that he's still clearly death-tolling.

"You look like shit," she says, her voice as dull as her expression, and then steps back to let him in.

a night or so after the meeting

[transfundere]

Thank you very much, Miss Shaw, for attending. I much appreciate you speaking your piece.

[cactusy]

Reid, it's okay, you don't have to blow smoke up my ass; I know gratitude is the last thing you're feeling for me.

text

[empathicfault]

Hey, looks like someone's trying to put together a more formal patrol setup. I told him you'd chime in.

text

[cactusy]

Roger. Thanks. Zhao's in too, you know him?

day of hakkai's poisoning

[transfundere]

Good afternoon, Miss Shaw.

As part of my duties as infirmary staff, there is a patient I will need to observe and by request it will be in their cabin as opposed to the infirmary. I would prefer not to leave the infirmary itself un-staffed, thus would like to call you in to cover that shift in the infirmary itself. I will, of course, be available in case of emergency and you are welcome to contact me in case of such a thing, but I would rather not strain young Mr. Tepes with unnecessary extra shifts if possible.

[cactusy]

On it; I'll be right over. Everything okay?

audio

[empathicfault]

Hey, Shaw. When you have a minute, I've got a somewhat frivolous Admiral request for you.

audio

[cactusy]

What's the dog's name this time?

Audio, very shortly after Root's network post

[worthallthis]

Hey. You saw your gal?

Audio

[cactusy]

[A little overwhelmed, a little breathless--]

Yeah. Caffrey found her.