CALEB LYNCH-ESMAEILI

I'm not welcome in this house of spirits anymore.

[caleb-l-esmaeili]

HOUSE OF SPIRITS || caleb & enoch

E. LYNCH​:

They’re a bit more boisterous than I am at times. I think some people assume I’m in the wrong house. [[ Enoch shakes his head, faintly amused by the entire concept. ‘Where have you been this whole time?’ Gracefully, Caleb manages to not sound angry or disappointed. Simply curious. It’s a kindness he feels he doesn’t deserve. ]]  My church. She was still standing, for a while.

[[ Enoch smiles small, looking at Caleb. Religion is a touchy subject, even now as adults there was a certain amount of baggage it carried. ]] Helped survivors out and it ended up a bit of pit stop for people. Before they’d go to a colony. I couldn’t leave after that. Was helping a lot of people out. [[ While Caleb could keep the accusation from his tone, Enoch cannot keep the apology out of his. He should’ve looked. All he had to do was look. Even simply ask some of the crusaders to look for him, to send a message to say he was well, that he was alive. Enoch images they’d have to take him in, then. He wouldn’t have helped as much as he could have.

He hasn’t told anyone this yet, but he thinks he can tell Caleb. He looks at the heavens, the walls around him. ]] Had the sudden feeling I had to get out. Tried to convince others to come with me but… that second set of asteroids wiped it out completely.  [[ The implication is there. Divine intervention, a calling. Dumb luck. A man finally snapping and walking away from all of his responsibility. ]]

Then I started walking. I didn’t stop till I hit the coast. Found a crusade and they brought me here… [[ Caleb can work it out, it’s probably the strangest thing Enoch has ever done. It was so out of character: hiding himself away for a year. A selfish year all for himself. After a moment, the mention of the rifle makes him pause. Then laugh, suddenly. It was so normal for the brothers, rifle in hand,talking quietly as a chilly wind rattled through their bones. ]] We have to check that in before they think I’ve stolen it.

[[ The second Falling. Caleb remembers it well, much like everyone else; the renewed terror of wondering if Mother Nature was taking the chance to finish the rest of them off. It’s different, obviously, from Enoch’s perspective; Caleb follows the implications, and per usual, if he’s meant to believe it’s some part of God’s greater plan, it’s a fucked up plan.

God told Enoch to survive, and for what? To live with the guilt that the rest of his church wouldn’t follow him when he told them they should leave? To put him in charge of a particularly vulnerable flock only to slaughter them in an instant? This is one of those instances where Caleb can easily see why Enoch believes, but he’s also convinced that it’d be kinder if he didn’t. Dumb luck felt more forgiving than a god who would leave him with the scars of what happened.

Ultimately, it’s not Caleb’s judgment to say. It’s not as if he subscribes to ‘if you don’t have anything nice to say…’ but for Enoch, he’s not about to have a theological discussion about something that’s obviously left an indelible mark. Caleb’s hand just falls heavy on Enoch’s shoulder and grips with a firm reassurance, one that says both ‘you did all you could’ and ‘I’m here now, for what it’s worth.’

Talking about the rifle is easier; Caleb snorts softly. ]] Alright, well, wouldn’t want that. Kleptomaniac priest isn’t a good look. [[ Caleb doesn’t know where Torren is and he definitely doesn’t know where this rifle goes, so he lets Enoch set their direction and follows, expression turning more serious as his voice lowers. ]] They’ve really got a heavy hand around here, don’t they? [[ The NWRF. Caleb’s murmur is laced with a poorly contained sense of rebellion Enoch will no doubt recognize. ]] Not something we have to deal with as much at 12.

[caleb-l-esmaeili]

SHACKLES OF FAITH || caleb & dante

D. CARRINGTON​:

[Oh, here we go, Dante thinks. Of course it hadn’t taken long to come to this. While it is usually the Infected that are quickest to call Uninfected individuals out for not participating in chores, there is certainly a strong core of Uninfected people that are eager to call out the hypocrisy too.

Dante doesn’t have the energy for this argument. Caleb is right, absolutely and unequivocally. It’s disgraceful that Dante, and everyone else, sits back while the Infected toil away. The trouble is – and it is understandably not a trouble that any Infected person would sympathise with – that if Dante turns up on a chore rotation, he gets dirty looks and judgemental whispers. If you don’t go then you’re criticised for apathy, and if you do go then you’re criticised for lip service. Either way it’s exhausting. Either way he can’t bear the weight of judgement implicit in Caleb’s question.] 

I do my own laundry, but beyond that, no. [Dante answers briefly but honestly, gaze cutting up to Caleb’s as if to invite whatever barbed comment might follow.]

[[ Dante isn’t thrilled with the question, it seems, considering the curtness of his response and the glance that follows. Good, Caleb thinks. They understand each other, then. He won’t press it, figuring asking the question said all it needed to, keeping his expression neutral as he nods. ]] Alright. [[ He’s not here to make waves fresh off the boat, so to speak, but maybe Enoch would expect that of him. Caleb will have to tell him he showed some restraint.

Ish. ]]

I’ll just show up, then. And I’ll talk to Ms. Dolmen. [[ Caleb returns to the stream of conversation without skipping much of a beat. He has, however, already decided he wouldn’t feel comfortable coming to Dante with more… delicate matters, so Caleb pauses to dig up another question instead. ]] The door announcements, the full names…

[[ Caleb wrinkles his nose. ]] Someone said that’s unfixable, but I thought I’d ask anyway. [[ His tone carries a clear undercurrent of ‘what the hell is up with that?’ ]]

[caleb-l-esmaeili]

PLAYING CATCH-UP || caleb & jr

JR​:

[[ Cheeks being touched feels like something that is unavoidable with the dentist of all places. He’ll have to trust Caleb, then. In any situation with some sort of medical professional, it’s one of the few times JR feels truly comfortable. So the guy has that going for him at least. Moreso given it’s just his teeth—what could possibly go wrong? Besides a flashback. Which… could be a lot wrong. Hopefully it won’t come to that.

JR simply hums in agreement  when he explains what he will be doing, and JR lapses into silence.

He often has very little to say, so he simply gets comfortable. The only way to find out if he can cope with this, is to try it. JR sits back, opens his mouth. ]]

[[ JR settles back without further commentary and Caleb is quick to get to work, just as he’s mindful of not touching JR’s cheeks. It’s not as awkward as it could be; every now and then he just asks him to tilt his head this way or that to get a better angle with the unreliable light sources in the room.

A quiet, thoughtful hum after some gentle inspection, and Caleb settles back in his chair, pushing it a half-foot to give JR some space and setting his tools aside. ]] Well, I think I see what’s up on the left: a couple of your molars are cracked. It’s not a huge issue, [[ he follows up with quickly. ]]

Because I know that sounds bad. But sometimes it happens as regular wear and tear and people don’t even notice, and it doesn’t necessarily have to be handled right away.

[[ Caleb’s running through the options, but most of them won’t sound great. He doesn’t exactly have the equipment to install a crown, much less create a decent one. Most of the extreme work he’s had to do since the apocalypse was extractions, and that’s not a great option for molars. He waffles a bit. ]] You said it’s mostly a sensitivity issue, at this point?

[caleb-l-esmaeili]

betraying philotes || bode + caleb

B. LINDQVIST​:

[Six years? Has it really been that long since the sky came crashing down? Six years is long enough to acclimate to their surroundings, to settle on the earth they were forced to keep cultivating. The timeline didn’t match up with the nightmares in his head. He supposed fear and anxiety didn’t play by the rules of linear time, something he should discuss with Dante at some point. Yeah, right.

Bode meets eyes with the other, once blurry with dissociation now becoming clear. He really needed to stop doing that. What had he said? ‘Bed’s a little too cold and a little too empty.’ Bode hated how well he resonated with that statement. A little honesty always goes a long way with Bode but Caleb didn’t ask him and he wasn’t about to be vulnerable unprompted.]

Caleb? [He sized up the man in front of him more thoroughly, nodding his head in slight approval. He looked like a Caleb. Sometimes Bode met people whose names didn’t match their face and for whatever reason, it bothered him to no end. It’s why he often gave people nicknames. It wasn’t out of love usually but instead their proper title. A careful label for easy access.] It’s a pleasure to share this godforsaken morning with you, Caleb, I’m Bode.

How do you feel about coffee?

[[ The look he’s given in response to his name is met with mild amusement; Caleb isn’t sure where the nod comes from or why, but he unconsciously mirrors it with a smile. He wonders if he would’ve gotten the same casual approval if he’d introduced himself as Mordecai. That’s just something Caleb will have to deal with as more and more people get stuck behind him and his litany of names getting through surveilled doors. ]]

Nice to meet you, Bode. [[ ‘Godforsaken morning’ makes him chuckle; calling something godforsaken anymore feels redundant. Is there anything that hasn’t been godforsaken, at this point?

Enoch, maybe, escaping his church before it was taken out in the second Falling. ]]

I’d love some coffee, [[ he decides, if only to avoid those thoughts. They’re too complicated for four AM. ]] Sleep schedule can’t get any worse, right? [[ Caleb turns and gestures back towards the colony walls. ]] Point me in the right direction and I’ll make you something that can stand a spoon up.

[caleb-l-esmaeili]

DEAD WOLVES || Atlas + Caleb || Ruina Rex

A. EASTE​:

TUESDAY, APRIL 11TH, 2163, 3:12PM

[Someone died. She didn’t know enough to guess who or how important they were to the colony but she could take a guess on the effect it was having on the inhabitants of Belvedere. It felt like the entire island itself was grieving. The ground outside lay wet and muddy, the buildings almost seemed to lean against the wind, weak—depressed, unwilling to stand tall in the gloomy sky. It could be her overactive imagination at work again but she didn’t care. It felt true.

On her way out of the entrance interview she’d overheard a small group of civilians discussing the funeral in the hall, their collective auras a neutral yellow, dandelion weeds in a hall of grey. She didn’t catch a a name but apparently Atlantis was one day late for the party. She wondered for a second if the reason they sent her to 22 was to occupy the space this person left. It wasn’t a pleasant thought, but it wasn’t too far fetched.

“I don’t have to remind you that we will be watching you closely, do we Miss Easte?”

Yeah, no shit. She was under no impression she got away with murder. It’s one thing to kill to survive, it’s another to kill a guard for doing their job. It didn’t matter that he made a mistake, that he didn’t ask questions before putting his hands on her. That wasn’t the point. He was dead and Atlas stood alone in a colorless building, the sky outside weeping for a person she would never meet. Would never know.

She looked down to the map in her hand, TORREN TOWER was circled in bright red pen. She thought about Claudia and her sharp red nails. Maybe she should have hit her with her chair when she had the chance. Atlas made a mental note to seek her out if she ever made it back to MIT.] This place is a fucking maze.

[She turns to her left, to her right, to her left again. Did she just go in a circle? No. Yes. No? Fuck. FUCK. She throws her entire weight into the doors leading outside, to the rain, to the dorms. She doesn’t care. She steps out into the bleeding sky and slams right into someone. The map in her hand gets ripped away by rain and wind.] You have got to be kidding me.

[She turns towards the person she walked into, rain pelting them both.] Well don’t just stand there. Help me get it back!

[[ Caleb didn’t go to the funeral. The thick fog of grief over 22 was potent enough already, and with only a couple years’ worth of therapy after the last disaster of a funeral under his belt when the world ended, Caleb had felt ill-equipped to deal even with second-hand grief. A half-hearted offer had been made to support Enoch, but of course he’d understood Caleb’s reluctance and of course he’d given him the out.

Whatever tension the funeral was supposed to relieve still lingers, uninterred. The weather does little to help the mood, but it does give Caleb something to do. If there’s one thing a Lynch can be counted on for, it’s finding work to avoid the fresh sting of grief leaning on old wounds.

He’d been out checking on the greenhouse in the heavy, pounding rain, but the building stood sturdy; only selfishly had Caleb hoped to find something wrong with it, something he could fix. Something to do with his itching hands. But he found no leaks, no cracks, the air comfortably humid and sheltered against the elements. The sound of the rain was deafening inside, so he hadn’t lingered long.

Head and shoulders bowed against the elements, Caleb takes a teetering step back when the double-doors crash open in front of him, heel catching the top stair. ]]

Jesus- [[ he blurts out, barely glimpsing the map as it’s torn from her fingers. Caleb recovers quickly enough with a shake of his head, raising his voice over the wind. ]] Forget it! Dime a dozen, just- [[ He gestures towards the door. ]] Get back inside. [[ Caleb means to be abrupt but not harsh. He doesn’t want to stand out here a second longer. ]]

[caleb-l-esmaeili]

PLAYING CATCH-UP || caleb & isha

I. FEINBERG​:

[Isha is very, very mindful of her breathing. True to his word Caleb offers a running commentary. Bone-hard tools click against her teeth. His fingers press against her mouth, because it is a dental examination and that’s what happens. She closes her eyes, and that’s worse. Every muscle of her jaw is clenched tight, and she wonders if anyone has ever bitten this man before. If his finger would snap like a carrot between her teeth if she just bit down, and if the warm gush of blood across her tongue would make her sick to her stomach.

It is suffocating. She wants it to stop, but saying that would only serve to make her feel weaker still, so she just lies there, tense but unflinching, and closes her eyes to it. The moment he pulls back Isha’s mouth closes with a sharp snap of teeth, and she envisions putting her feet on the ground. She could walk away, walk fast, and be somewhere else. Go to bed for a nap, maybe, or to the kitchen for a coffee. But, her feet don’t obey her.

The cup of water is taken mechanically in her grip, but she’s not really aware of it. She doesn’t listen to Caleb, or even look at him as he talks. Her gaze is fixed elsewhere, a distant point through the wall. She feels very disconnected. It’s that hollow, dissociated sensation of watching her body from outside.] 

Mm. [She tries to will herself to look down at the glass of water in her hands, but her eyes won’t move. He had said something. The man had said something.] Hold off.

[She can’t think what he said, just recalls those last few words. Isha’s nature is to say no to things. Whatever he offered, she didn’t want it. The hand without the glass in it curls, forming a neat fist. It pushes its knuckles against the chair until fingernails press sharply against the meat of its palm. Her palm. It feels like nothing.]

[[ She is far, far afield as Caleb peels off his gloves, the detached look in Isha’s eyes familiar to him even if it’s been years since he’s seen it. An empty feeling stirs in his chest that he’s careful and practiced in suppressing. ]]

Okay, [[ Caleb says quietly, neutrally. It isn’t pushy or pitying, it’s just a word as he waits for her to come back. He talks to fill the space, but it doesn’t really matter if she hears him or not. ]] We can be done. There’s no rush. [[ He means both in regards to her teeth and the current situation. Caleb had been quick as possible, considering the iron-straight line of tension in Isha’s body, and his next appointment isn’t for a bit.

He busies himself with his tools because Isha doesn’t seem to be someone who’d prefer to be observed as she collects herself, but Caleb watches her closely in his periphery. ]] Have a drink of water, [[ he says, somewhere between a request and an instruction, since she probably needs it. ]] But then you’re free to go, unless you have any questions for me.

[caleb-l-esmaeili]

PLAYING CATCH-UP || ajay + caleb

A. BENÍTEZ​:

[He chuckles.] Hey, man, you chose to be a Dentist, You knew what you were getting into. It’s the sacrifices we make, right? [It’s cheesy tease, if nothing else.] 

Uh, coffee, yeah, but around here it’s usually like tar or like dishwasher, no in between. Tea’s too British for me. Sometimes I have peppermint, though. I prefer beer to flat soda, thanks. And candy, nah, not my thing. [He pauses, and his grin grows again.] Is this a cosmo quiz? Are you about to tell me the category of lover I am? The Broody Bear? The Selfish Knight? The Passionate Spaz?

⚧️

[[ Caleb raises his eyebrows and smiles, shaking his head. ]] Yeah, I’m not thinking of anyone’s category of lover while I’m looking down their throat, thanks. [[ It’s a comment he wouldn’t have made in a normal office setting, but much about Caleb has the air of ‘what are they gonna do, fire me?’ after the end of the world. Ajay’s obviously not going to be made uncomfortable by a quip like that. ]]

Just want to know what I’m in for ahead of time. [[ He grabs a pair of gloves and pulls them on, flexing his fingers. ]] Like with the grinding. Clever joke, or actual issue? Because we may not be able to make you a mouthguard, but we can get you… I dunno. Something else to chew on.

[caleb-l-esmaeili]

HOUSE OF SPIRITS || caleb & enoch

E. LYNCH​:

[[ Caleb takes his wrist in hand. For the first time Enoch feels a little fragile in his younger brother’s grip. Even if Caleb would never think of him that way, came with the territory. Acting like something closer to a parent than a brother times meant he’d gained that nearly indescribable quality of separation and all-knowing-ness children place on their parents.  Caleb saw through it, Ben not so much.

He forgets for a moment that the red ink could be a surprise. Forgets that Caleb could likely not know about his infection. ]]

Brink? [[ Enoch repeats, whistles like it’s a shocking, tell-all detail. ]] Let’s everyone know you’re a secret softie under all of that. [[ It’s remarkably easy to fall into step with Caleb. Literally and metaphorically. Any time the brothers are together it feels like no times has passed at all. A lot has changed, but they haven’t. Not at their core. ]] I’ll be honest, I don’t remember much about them all. Calysets are pretty quiet, I can tell you that much. [[ Reuben would probably have been in Calyset. ]]

A secret softie, [[ Caleb echoes with a quiet chuckle. ]] I can’t tell if you’re bullshitting me or not. [[ The houses are such a mystery to him that Enoch could tell him being in Brink means he likes long walks on the beach and pickle ice cream, for all the sorting process meant to him. ]] So if I see some other Torrens, I should just assume they’re overbearing and liable to disapprove of everything I do.

[[ He’s walked the halls a few times, trying to familiarize himself, and it isn’t too difficult. Colony 12 was small but 22 is even smaller. It seems unlikely they’ll get the same kind of through-traffic, and Caleb isn’t sure if that’ll be a comfort or a detriment. He falls into step with Enoch, walking close, their shoulders occasionally bumping in the natural movement of walking. ]] This place seems pretty isolated, how did you end up here? Where have you been this whole time? [[ By some miracle, he manages to say so without sounding accusatory. If anything, he’s surprised Enoch managed to dodge the system until now — but then again, images of Enoch drifting and living off the land, barren though it may be, fall easily into place.

He almost forgets the rifle because it feels right on his shoulder; an extension that comes naturally to the Lynches. ]] Am I supposed to do something with this? [[ Caleb thinks to ask, grabbing the strap and tugging it forward. ]]

[caleb-l-esmaeili]

SHACKLES OF FAITH || caleb & dante

D. CARRINGTON​:

[Dante appreciates how to-the-point Caleb is. There’s no beating around the bush; he just gets straight to it. Regrettably, however, the point is probably not one that Dante can assist on. He won’t bother getting into it here and now, not with a perfect stranger, but he has pushed back on the state of the chore rotation. Even setting aside the ethical issues, as he knows the NWRF are wont to do, it very clearly causes more trouble than it’s worth.

It’s obviously about proving a point to the Infected, but it’s not like any of them are labouring under the delusion that the NWRF respect them in any way. It doesn’t achieve much in terms of their goal, it actually poses logistical problems in terms of getting in enough food since only limited groups go out hunting, and half the time Uninfected people turn up for chores of their own volition anyway.

The ‘functional adult’ comment catches Dante somewhat off guard, and one corner of his mouth twitches in amusement rather in spite of himself. He feels the same on the matter.] 

There’s nothing to stop you from attending chores as and when you wish. Some already do. If you’re interested in the greenhouse in particular, Ms. Dolmen in Calyset has some authority on the matter so it might be worth talking to her about putting in some time there.

[It isn’t exactly the same as signing up for the chore rotation, and in this case Dante suspects the details matter. It’s not just about pitching in, it’s also about the symbolism of the thing. Unfortunately, Dante isn’t in a position to do much to change the situation.]

[[ Caleb frowns. While there’s some reassurance in the fact the NWRF isn’t going to go so far as to actively prevent him from attending chores, Caleb thinks it might be even stupider that chores aren’t compulsory for the Uninfected, but they can still just. Go, if they want. The right to pick and choose, a different kind of privilege those with abilities don’t get. That ‘some already do’ isn’t much consolation either, because ‘some’ hardly sounds like a lot. The situation feels as though it lends itself a little too well to virtue signaling; attend a chore or two, but exempt if you don’t feel like it.

‘Philippians 2,’ his mother’s voice begins in the back of his head. ‘Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit—’

Caleb resolutely tamps the verse back down.

Any reassurance that he can help with the greenhouse as much as he may like is temporarily lost on Caleb. ]] Do you ever attend chores, Dr. Carrington? [[ he asks before he can really stop himself, not knowing exactly where the impulse comes from and not sure what he’ll do with the information, either. His tone is neutral enough, even if there’s a hint of something more challenging in his eyes. He might not know what, exactly, he’ll do with Dante’s answer, but he feels as though it’ll be some kind of telling either way. ]]

[selfapologies-blog]

I WANT TO JUMP BACK INTO THE THROAT OF GOD, WHERE SKINNED KNEES AND BRUISED ANKLES DO NOT COUNT. THERE IS AN ANGER IN MY SOUL THAT WANTS OUT. WE’LL SEE THEN WHO IS HOLY.

THROAT OF GOD by Keren Chelsea (via kerenchelsea)

[caleb-l-esmaeili]

PLAYING CATCH-UP || caleb & isha

I. FEINBERG​:

[She sort of hates how gently compliant he is: ‘absolutely’, with warm understanding in his eyes. It’s the sort of thought, Isha knows, that makes people think she’s impossible because you just can’t win with her. If he was rude, she’d be angry. He’s being kind, and it still annoys her. She keeps her face neutral; perhaps it’s herself she’s annoyed with.

He thinks she’s weak now. A dentist. He is a dentist sitting there thinking how vulnerable Isha must be, and when he brings out the coldly glinting tools she wonders how tight he holds on to them.] 

Deal. [She repeats the word he uses because that’s a thing, Isha has noticed, that people seem to do. ‘Deal? Deal.’ Not ‘Deal? Yes.’ The chair is uncomfortable, and there’s something oppressive in looking up at the ceiling, so she instead watches the dental tools. They look sharp, acutely cruel in a very human way. No animal’s tooth could look like the sickle probe. She decides that she likes the way it looks, so clean and precise. Apparently, she has read, dental drills have diamond in the tip because it’s the only substance strong enough to cut through teeth, but she’s not sure if it’s true. A nice image, though.

Only when Caleb asks specifically will she open her mouth, because she doesn’t want to lie there agape like a broken doll.] 

[[ To say Isha settled into the chair would be wholly untrue; she leans back but remains stiff as a board, and as much as Caleb wonders if it’s to do with the dentistry, he’s also starting to wonder if that’s just her… natural state of being. Both, maybe. But he neither can nor will hold it against her. Caleb rolls himself to the side of the chair by Isha’s head and, largely keeping his hands where she can see them, gives her a nod. ]] Open, please.

[[ As she asked, Caleb is careful to provide a dry but informative running commentary of what he’s doing, like he might to his hygienist but without the complex terminology and numbering systems. He warns her as he checks her gums and scrapes a couple of minimally concerning, hard-to-reach areas.

When he pulls away to set his tools aside, Caleb gestures for her to sit up before stripping his gloves off and offering a cup of water in lieu of any more advanced rinsing technology. ]]

Overall, looks great as expected, [[ Caleb confirms, using his heels to push his chair back again and give her an iota of space in the cramped, curtained-off corner. ]] You’ve got some minimal staining here. [[ He opens his mouth and hooks one finger to indicate the inside of his lower teeth. ]] Not uncommon for coffee or tea drinkers, and hard to prevent unless you feel like swishing with water after every sip or drinking your coffee with a straw. [[ Caleb had made a number of changes to his own habits when he started dentistry, but turning a cup of coffee into something that labor-intensive wasn’t even something he could get behind. ]] If that doesn’t appeal, just be more mindful of it when brushing since the grooves run vertical.

[[ Caleb pauses, then adds: ]] I can take care of the existing buildup, but it’s not really enough to be an issue yet, so we can also hold off. [[ He’ll leave the decision to Isha, and if she’s hit her threshold yet. ]]

[caleb-l-esmaeili]

betraying philotes || bode + caleb

B. LINDQVIST​:

[His laugh bright and full like a blossom in spring was welcome during this bleary morning. Everything about this felt like a dream, a painted morning by some morbid artist. Two ungodly men standing in front of a depressing chapel, all three figures unable to rest in the desiccated landscape. What a joke, he thought.]

[‘Much like the man himself, it’s only got as much power as you give it.’ Bode raised a brow at the other, slightly taken aback by this observation. He agreed with the sentiment fully, the only problem being he often failed at not giving it the power it needed to destroy him. Maybe it’s the masochist in him.] Well, the morning is still young, our fate could change in an instant.

[Bode takes a step towards the chapel, squinting at the stained glass before turning back towards the stranger.] But maybe I won’t tempt fate today. I’ll reconsider tomorrow. [He smiles something playful at the other, his delirium allowing Bode to toss his paranoia to the wind.]

Can’t sleep? Actually, don’t answer that. If you could sleep you wouldn’t be here keeping me company would you? So I guess the question is, why can’t you sleep?

[[ ‘Our fate could change in an instant.’ Caleb smiles blandly and nods. Who could argue with that, when asteroids rained down out of nowhere to destroy everything they knew and plenty of things they loved?

Tired of inspecting the hollowed-out husk of a chapel, Caleb is happy to redirect his attention to the stranger when he turns, better lit now by some of the colony’s ambient lighting from behind Caleb’s back. He looks exhausted and a little wild, which all checks out for their interaction thus far.

Caleb takes a deep breath in before letting it out in a single huff of air, his shoulders rising and falling in a lackadaisical shrug along with. ]] Show me someone who can sleep well over the past six years, and I’ll call you a fucking liar. [[ It’s not an answer, though, so Caleb opts for more honesty. ]] Bed’s a little too cold and a little too empty.

I’m Caleb. [[ He nods once, wondering how much amusement this fellow heathen might get from the biblical bent of his name. ]] And you? [[ Fishing for a name and why he can’t sleep, either, but the man is welcome to interpret and omit as he sees fit. They’ve barely met, he doesn’t owe Caleb anything. ]]

[caleb-l-esmaeili]

SHACKLES OF FAITH || caleb & dante

D. CARRINGTON:

[Dante was never terribly good at rolling out the welcome wagon. He’s always aware when a new transfer comes in to his house; he rarely does anything about it. The NWRF appointed him head of house because he was on their side rather than any people skills he had. In fact, bedside manner was always the part where Dante lost marks while he was studying.

So, he was aware of Caleb’s arrival. And he appreciated the addition of another medical practitioner, particularly a dentist. God knows how long its been since most people here had their teeth seen to. But he didn’t particularly have anything to say to the man, beyond a vague ‘welcome’, so he’d not bothered. It would only have felt insincere.

But here he is anyway, knocking at the door to Dante’s office. With questions, apparently. Dante’s first thought is: Christ, I hope there’s not chronic gum disease in the Colony. His second thought: the man introduces himself as Caleb, not Mordecai, and if he hopes Dante will be able to change the door announcements when he scans himself into places, he’ll be leaving sorely disappointed.] 

Of course. [Dante gestures to the chair on the other side of his desk, dimming the screen of his Echo pad and setting it aside.] How can I help?

[[ Dr. Carrington hits him with a dry professionalism that makes it pretty clear why the man hadn’t bothered to approach with any words of welcome. If Caleb wasn’t offended before, he definitely isn’t offended now. If the man weren’t NWRF he’d be Caleb’s picture of an ideal supervisor: impersonal and hands-off.

Caleb swings the door mostly-shut behind himself but doesn’t bother to latch it, stepping into the room with a cursory glance around before he settles himself into the indicated seat. ]]

I want to sign myself up for the chore rotation because I — [[ ‘Think it’s fucking stupid Uninfected aren’t required to.’ ]] — have a lot of skills that I think would be beneficial.

I grew up on a farm and did more than my fair share of the work, so I’d like to be involved with the greenhouse maintenance in particular. [[ Not that he thought they couldn’t handle it — apparently they had an actual botanist on staff, and one would think that’s a much more difficult and impressive find than a backwater farm kid. ]] I’m also perfectly capable of doing my own laundry, like any functional adult. [[ Oops, okay. That last part he probably could’ve (should’ve) kept to himself, but Caleb had only developed a talent in mostly schooling himself and his emotions. Full control of what he was is a pipe dream. ]]

[caleb-l-esmaeili]

HOUSE OF SPIRITS || caleb & enoch

E. LYNCH​:

[[ Caleb speaks to him so gently,  pulling him into a tight hug. The sobs have taken over him, he can’t stop the tears or the breathes that wracks through his body. It’s something he can’t stop, and he won’t. Sometimes,a person simply has to feel the force of an emotion. Turns out,there was some tension Enoch was holding onto, some deep rooted fear that he finally, finally can let go of.

Caleb is fine. The girls and little Benji are fine. Caleb feels strong and steady beneath his hands, tight and safe in the hug. Enoch’s always the caretaker, rarely the one looked after. Caleb’s always managed to step up when he’s needed, a far better man than anyone ever gives him credit for.

When they finally let go, Enoch quickly wipes at his eyes and nose, straightens up. He only spares the retreating hunting group a quick look. They’ve been kind enough to keep going, he’s not sure who or how many people caught what happened. An idle thought that’s pushed aside when Caleb returns to his side, arm over his shoulders, picking up the forgotten rifle. 

All he could do is nod, a shower and a hot drink sounds amazing right about now. Some time to actually catch up with Caleb, find out how they’ve all been these past six years. Still getting his breathing in check, Enoch shows his wrist and the red tattoo. With it all likely still very new to Caleb, Enoch finds it in himself to find his voice. ]] Torren. [[ He smiles, then, looking to Caleb as they begin walking back towards the building. ]]

Where’d they stick you? These things feel like horoscopes.

[[ Caleb can’t place exactly where the instinct comes from, but when Enoch shows him his tattoo, that splash of red the NWRF have apparently tried to make shameful around here, he reaches out to cover it and gives Enoch’s wrist a firm squeeze. That Enoch is Infected isn’t a surprise to him, not after he’d spent the past month or so reading and re-reading whatever was put into Echo now that his brother was registered. Actually seeing the brand is what makes him a little sick and a lot angry, when his own wrist is inked in simple black and comes with privileges he hasn’t earned.

But now obviously isn’t the time for politics, not when Enoch feels so thin and sinewy under his arm — not fragile, though. Caleb didn’t think he could ever look at his brother and find him fragile, even with dark circles etched under his eyes and tears streaking his cheeks. ]]

Torren, okay. I have no idea why I asked, because that doesn’t mean anything to me, [[ Caleb replies flatly but with an amused smile, not rushing their steps and shoving the broad double-door open for both of them once they hit the landing. He waits for Enoch to direct which way down the hall. ]] I’m in Brink, I guess. You know me better than anyone, does that tell people all they need to know about me?

[caleb-l-esmaeili]

PLAYING CATCH-UP || ajay + caleb

A. BENÍTEZ​:

[Adrián snorts.] Oh, I don’t plan to be brilliant, boss. I’m a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-trou sort of guy. I just happen to be very clever. [He smirks, shoving his hands on his pockets so he isn’t tempted to touch (or nick) anything as he cross the air-quote-unquote “room” to drop into the chair. He shifts a little bit in it—well. At least it’s somewhat comfy.] 

No concerns other than the feeling of guilt that you have to look into my mouth at all. I couldn’t tell you the last time I’ve been to a dentist. I do floss though, if that’s any consolation. Now, anyway. Funnily enough it’s an easier habit to pick up when good hygiene isn’t as easy as a stop at Shopper’s Drugmart. 

It is a consolation, thanks. I’ve gotten to the point where I only kinda take it personally when people are better with their habits and only like me better now that I’m a rare breed. [[ Caleb quips. Obviously, he’s not that offended. Everyone is a rare breed these days, except the dime-a-dozen Mad Max wannabe Looters living their weirdest, most violent post-apocalyptic wet dreams. ]]

Coffee, tea, expired soda drinker? Candy consumption? [[ Caleb ticks off, only half-joking about the expired soda. He was never keen on the stuff before the end of the world, but even mundane addictions had been hard to kick for some. ]]

[caleb-l-esmaeili]

PLAYING CATCH-UP || caleb & jr

JR​:

Sometimes, round about here. [[ He gestures to the left side of his face. ]] If I have something too hot. Or cold. [[ They,his doctors, had suggested checking his teeth, but unless the pain was severe or persistent they wouldn’t be able to do anything. The only option was to pull the teeth with no dentist. Seemed extreme. JR hadn’t figured out his aversion to his face being touched, yet. Right. That.

He’ll need to tell him that. Dante’s diligence in not keeping notes likely means that is not available for any Elite to find out. Moments like this, he wishes he wasn’t so tight lipped about everything. ]]

I have a weird… ask. [[ Not an ‘ask’, exactly. A weird aversion. He’s not sure how to explain it without outright calling it a trigger’. That would feel like admitting to more than he’s prepared for. Caleb is lucky, then, that JR has a natural respect for anyone with some sort of medical profession—dentistry counts. ]] Can you not touch my cheeks?

[[ He’s not had any experience with fingers in his mouth and whilst the thought could be enticing in another situation… Maybe it’s best he finds out in a medical setting than a private one. His personal life doesn’t exactly need more issues. Not that he wants to maim the poor dentist. From his previous reactions, though, JR thinks, or hopes, he’ll be the only one who could be left worse for wear.  ]]

[[ Caleb nods as JR gestures to the side of his face, reaching for a pair of gloves to pull on. Thank god for the advances in proper medical gloves, ones that haven’t gone weird and don’t crack as Caleb tugs at the cuff and flexes his fingers. He almost asks JR if he could guess the source of the sensitivity, then remembers: memory issues. Caleb just nods again. ]] Sensitivity on the left, okay. I’ll be careful.

[[ The ask isn’t weird at all, not to Caleb. He’s had much weirder, from a handful of his more anxious patients. One had warned him that at no point would she be keeping her mouth hanging open if he wasn’t actively looking. That’d felt a bit like inspecting a bear trap. Not touching JR’s cheeks will be easier. ]] Sure. Shouldn’t be a problem. [[ Every now and then he might use a pinky to steady his hand, but he can be cognizant of that and avoid it. ]]

Whenever you’re ready, I’ll just be taking a look for starters. I’d like to see what your little problem area looks like first.

[caleb-l-esmaeili]

PLAYING CATCH-UP || caleb & isha

I. FEINBERG​:

[She’s pleased that he puts on a little more formality, even if it is affected. Isha doesn’t expect everyone to be prim and proper all the time – god knows Ada is as brash as a person is capable of being – but when it comes to medical professionals she prefers them to act like it. So, he eases up on the jokes and Isha completes the exchange with a small, but fairly genuine, smile. She’s not a terribly warm person but she appreciates people making an effort.

And really, she doesn’t want to make this difficult. It’s been a long time since Isha’s last dental checkup, as is true for most people, and she’ll like the peace of mind of being told she’s healthy.] Thank you.

[She takes a tissue from the box and carefully begins removing her lipstick. The pigment looks bloody on the tissue. Her head is turned just slightly away from Caleb as she does this.] I don’t think there has ever been any shortages. A few years ago we received a lot of liquorice flavoured toothpaste which I didn’t like at all, but other than that I think there has been no problems.

[Depositing the tissue in the bin, Isha returns to the seat and this time lies back as far as the chair allows. She doesn’t like to waste time, and presumably he doesn’t either, and yet the movement is more uncomfortable than she’d imagined. Lying back while he is upright feels submissive in a way that makes her skin crawl.] I would like for you to tell me before you do anything, please. And tell me what are you doing.

[If her previous words had softened out a touch, there is now an uncompromising tone to them. Isha doesn’t much care what the man thinks of her request. Since he’s an Elite she assumes he’s read her file, since they’re all so terribly nosey about these things, and if he has then he’ll know why she is extremely controlling in a situation like this.]

[[ Caleb hitches a faint smile when Isha mentions the licorice toothpaste, and that she didn’t like it. It’s a mundane fact, but also the most human commentary he’s gotten out of her. He tries to remember the little things his patients tell him beyond what’s actually useful to him for his work, and files that tidbit carefully away.

He swivels on his stool to grab a pair of gloves as she disposes of the tissue, nodding easily at her request. He hadn’t grown up with such a skittish, anxious twin for nothing; Ben had taught him every intricacy of his anxiety, a skill that translated well to Caleb’s work. He’d never taken any formal courses on anxious patients nor did he advertise said expertise, but word of mouth in the city where he’d worked was the best advertising. Caleb had entertained his fair share of clients with nervous hangups, and Isha’s ask falls easily within the bounds of what he’s used to. He hasn’t delved into Isha’s file and doesn’t care to. Her preferences are her own, and none of his business. His business is only to make her feel comfortable. ]]

Absolutely. [[ Even once she’s settled and he has his gloves on, Caleb doesn’t yet move closer. He picks out the mirror and sickle probe and holds them up for her to see. ]]

We’ll just take a look, for starters. I don’t expect to find much, with your good habits, but I’ll make sure your wisdom teeth have erupted properly and that the depth of your gums looks good. Beyond that I’ll just be looking for spots that need a little scraping, and I’ll warn you first if I find any. Deal?