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- tlv: !ic,
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- tlv: alexander hilbert,
- tlv: angeal hewley,
- tlv: avalon,
- tlv: dimitri alexander blaiddyd,
- tlv: doug eiffel,
- tlv: elim rawne,
- tlv: francesca "franky" cook,
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- tlv: jedao two,
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- tlv: maggie garcia,
- tlv: malcolm bright,
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- tlv: neal caffrey,
- tlv: nita callahan,
- tlv: oscar,
- tlv: paul "jesus" rovia,
- tlv: raylan givens,
- tlv: root,
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- tlv: steve rogers [captain america],
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lastvoyages
[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.]
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[She clears her throat, pausing as her brain tries to sort what to say next, then just offers over the packages.]
Enough for a week. Stew, mostly.
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Are we cool?
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Well, yes, obviously, I mean, why wouldn't we be?
[Smooth.]
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Okay. Were you-- did you live? Did anything happen to you?
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Nothing bad happened, though I admit I didn't take your...demise well.
I was plotting a goddamned coup. I was going to wipe out an entire system of government, in part out of vengeance. Because I cared, because...because you made me feel things I hadn't before. How in the name of God does one account for that?
[A moment of silence.]
How are you feeling?
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[It had been a breach, which means it hadn't been real, which means it shouldn't matter. And yet.]
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I didn't have time for much of anything. It ended for...whatever reason breaches end.
[And then, because it has to slip out.]
I was going to overthrow the ruling elite over it.
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Oh, god. Seriously? Why would you do something stupid like that?
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Let's just say that Breach-me had some disagreements with leadership decisions that...was rather badly exacerbated by your death.
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I reported myself. The guy who killed me did his job.
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[She shakes her head]
They could've done better. Saved many lives. Yours included. You did the right thing. They didn't.
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[She says it quietly and carefully, but firmly.]
My life couldn't have been saved. I was a dead woman walking. Killing me did save many lives.
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I know, but...there were ways to prevent you or...anybody else from being bitten in the first place.
[She sighs, shaking her head.]
Why am I defending someone who doesn't even exist?
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[Shaw retreats further back into the cabin so that she can drop down onto the edge of her mattress, rubbing her temples - though she leaves the door open as she goes, and she keeps talking.]
You're lucky it wasn't real. You would have gotten yourself killed.
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Maybe. I've proven hard to kill. I'd wager this breach Franky had even odds.
[Her body aches with the questions she wants to ask. And she wouldn't be Franky if at least some of what she's really thinking didn't leak out.]
Of course, funny enough, who lived and who died and who might have died isn't even the most important thing, is it?
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[She says dully, gaze fixed on the floor a few feet in front of her.]
You wanna tell me what you think the most important thing is? 'Cause I got nothing.
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Do...
[Had she forgotten it?]
You don't remember...
[She unnecessarily looks behind her before making a hand gesture back and forth, between them.]
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I remember. Wasn't really us, though, right?
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[For some reason, that disappoints her. But it shouldn't because, well, it hadn't been real, had it? Though it felt very real. And the urge to push back Shaw's hair, giving her comfort when she was feeling ill - all so suddenly coming to mind - that felt very real, too.]
Right, I...right. I should...
[She thumbs over her shoulder, straightening up and clearing her throat.]
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It's not you.
[She says, because she knows that this isn't exactly the ideal response for her to have.]
I'm not pissed at you.
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[Too many thoughts, too many memories of that other Franky to sort out.]
[But she'd been through breaches before - they'd never bothered her like this, never lingered. She'd taken a deep breath, and moved on and...why not this time?]
Then what are you pissed at?
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[Shaw knows from experience that Franky doesn't stand for her "this isn't real" talk, which is actually completely fine with her; she prefers a straight-forward Stop being ridiculous to a lot of other approaches. But the words come out anyway, and she exhales sharply, redirecting.]
There's someone at home.
[Or there was. There will be. Whatever. It's not something she likes telling people, for the most part, but she's made the odd exception here and there and she supposes that this should be one of them.]
So, you know. My head getting messed with like this kinda sucks.
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[Again, so obvious she should have known. Without even thinking, she ends up sitting down next to Shaw. In her mind, unexpected sand castle begin to collapse, and she doesn't know what to make of that, either.]
It would, I suppose. I don't.
[A slight pause]
Have anyone, back home. Would be much worse if I did. Granted, this all came out of left bloody field, too - lot of new things there.
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[The joke is delivered without any real life to it, as she stares at Franky's knee.]
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In 1939, I'm considered what they call a difficult woman. Besides, so few even slightly measure up.
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