ONE SIN ⋆ TOO LATE

a multimuse blog for devil's elbow as written by ghost ( it / he )

[insainted]

one sin too late ( muses by ghost ) : written for @devilselbowhq

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insainted ( verb ) : deprived from sainthood through insanity.

[murdcrofcrows]

"ha, ha. you're hilarious, fuck face." shelby rolled at a very typical response either of them would give out but he was too tired to actually entertain at the moment. this storm was proving to take more out of him than anyone before it ( and trust that there has been many in this hellhole they grew up in ). but once sue stopped he could see a mirror of exhaustion on his face and his demeanor instantly softened. that was his little brother, but more importantly, that was shelby's only gift from their parents, sue always had and always would be shelby's best friend. his partner in crime and blood all mixed up in one spitfire of a person.

shelby's had moved to rest on sue's shoulder, an effort at comfort should he want it, while he listened to sue finish talking.

"hey now, i just wanted a clear answer on what the fuck happened there and why'd you get here." shelby raised his free hand in defense. not only did he trust sue's decision making in a situation like this but he also knows the commander wouldn't lead them astray. he also wouldn't leave anyone without the freedom of a choice, in his experience and neither would his siblings. "i ain't blamin' you for nothin' sue, i'm just glad y'all are okay. now we really ought to get you checked out even if you don't think you're hurt."

but sue did seem okay and there was another concern he had. "or at least get some food in ya and warm you up, yeah? also i've had enough of stacey's shit for one day, don't make me go back in there." it was better if he just sat there to brood it out in shelby's experience.

[insainted]

Maybe he's tired. Maybe his older brother's right, he should get food, he should warm up, and sit down for longer than a few minutes. Even trying to muster the energy he usually has is like trying to get out of quicksand—the more he struggles to get out, the deeper he sinks. He may not have anything going on with him injury-wise, not like Bash, and Joni, and Sullie, but he can feel the weariness of the day's hike in his bones.

Shelby's concern is gratifying, though. Not because Sue wants someone to worry about him, but concern means he's not being blamed for shit when he can't add that to the pile of shit he's already wading through. "I'm okay, man, all my shit still attached, just tired. But I guess everyone is, so it's fine."

Sue isn't the kind of person to deny himself the things he needs to stay stable—call him selfish, if you will—because he knows, come what may, his siblings are gonna need him, and he can't help them if he isn't okay himself. But right now, he still has some gas in the tank before he scuttles, and he intends to use it to get the people he loves in a good place first.

Letting out a quiet chuckle at the mention of their youngest brother, Sue shakes his head slightly. "Don't worry about Stace, man, I'll deal with him. He's angry, and you can't exactly tell him he's wrong for it. Wasn't a big deal to you, but it was to him, right?" Sue shrugs. "Mom and dad did a number on the kid. Pushing him away's not gonna work in anyone's favour."

Maybe it was an argument he should've made before they got Stacey arrested, but at the time, Sue had not considered Stacey's side of it. It had taken seeing his little brother's real anger—most likely covering up real hurt—to understand just how much they'd fucked up.

[murdcrofcrows]

he didn't say 'oh thank the heavens' when they said they were done with their lecture, but santiago sure as hell thought it. not because he wouldn't want to know their feelings nor because he didn't think they were valid to have them, more because he was too tired to give them the attention they deserved. luckily maisie has seen it enough over their lifetime and had seen so much worse ( more often ) with their other uncle. santiago wasn't nearly as orinery as his beloved, but he was damn certain lindsay is where they get their own stubbornness from. he wouldn't hear otherwise.

"that's good, queride." santiago looks around when he's seated fully. "i bet that was quite the task with this bunch." he was well aware of how compliant the citizens of burnington could and couldn't be. especially those who led less than savory lifestyles. the ultra-defiant as he liked to call them, though who was he to judge at that mentality? he was one of the leaders of the rebellion after all, wasn't he? "i knew you all would keep them safe, i knew we would be safer here for that same reason."

a split battalian is next to worthless, after all and with his little familia of maisie, linds, dot, and dante and his bigger family at the same place but him separated from them? it meant that santiago had been the one suffering. they always have been and always would be his weak spot, but also his strength. overall he was surprised as to how much they'd been doing, but not at the same time. santiago knew how responsible, smart, and mature maisie could be. they only needed a little bit more and they'd be unstoppable, now look at them. they were there.

"i swear if i could cry i'd be sobbing right now, you've done so well!" though his brows knit together at the news of a body? being found. "what do you mean a body was found? like someone killed someone here or an illness or...?" santiago suddenly wondered if it was something they needed to address right away or if dante was already taking care of it. "water, or something hydrating and then just heat. i won't let anyone but him look at my arm, you know that." okay so maybe he was stubborn, too. "maybe another ten or twenty hugs for the body heat? unless you're going to make him do that too?"

[insainted]

Maisie squares their shoulders a little bit more, spine straightening as the praise hits their ears, trying very hard to not let the value of it be read upon their face. They didn't do this for the praise, it's because it'd been the most natural thing in the world, taking charge of the situation, using all that stubborn bossiness to bring something like order to the situation, be someone the people here can rely on, ask questions to, turn to when they need anything.

They wonder, briefly, how Linds and Santi and Dante manage to keep it up—although it energises them, being put in charge of something, it's difficult to remember to feed themself, to hydrate, to rest, when everyone's pulling on them. And they've only been doing this for a day or two.

Shaking their head, Maisie gives him a shrug. "I dunno, if I had to hazard a guess, it's foul play, but I can find out the ins and outs of it, if you want. Darach and Ki came with you, gonna see what they think on it."

Leaning close, they press a kiss to Santi's cold cheek. "I'll be right back, don't move." With that, Maisie goes off to hunt down a blanket and a bottle of water, in the meantime also letting the rest of their family know that Santi'd arrived. They're gone for no longer than a minute or two, opening the bottle of water and carefully putting it into Santi's good hand, before shaking out the blanket, putting it around him, tucking it in reminiscent of how he's done to them when they were younger.

"I told 'em where you are," Maisie says, wrapping their arms around him, much more gentle this time than the first time they'd done so, rubbing their hands against his back to cause some heat friction, manoeuvring his face to tuck into their surprisingly warm neck, despite the low ambient temperature. "It's gonna be okay, alright? You can let go. We've got this. I've got this."

[eatabug]

a delighted bark of a laugh escapes mikaere before he can make any effort to restrain it, bright and loud and echoing as he throws his head back when the o'brien obliges his nonsensical request and takes him by the hand. mikaere allows himself to be manhandled into feary's arms, a breathless ❛ oh ❜ as their chests suddenly rest flush against one other. strong. he has an almost restrained sort of ferocity about the way he moves that mikaere is instantly drawn to ; something feral lingers just beneath the surface and curiosity has him itching to dig his fingers in and see what's hiding.

❝ no, ❞ mikaere concedes, his arms lifting to wrap around feary's neck as he's suddenly tilted toward the floor, silver locks cascading over his shoulder, ❝ no, it wouldn't be, would it? not to you. but it wasn't your children flayed like cattle and strung up for the city to see, was it? ❞ he falls into step with the shamrock, a half-waltz that leads them around the room. ❝ it wasn't. it wasn't. no, they were mine, weren't they? it's hard not to take that personal, mr. o'brien. we are already a dying breed. ❞

he hums at the mention of stabbing, eyes drifting upward as if, for a moment, he's considering the option. ❝ i'd much rather an apology, i think. what is it you think you can come to understand with me? i'm listening. ❞

[insainted]

Feary thinks on the statements posed by the moth follower, eyebrows raising as he turns the idea in his head. Would he have taken it personal, had the cult come to his doorstep, taken some of his people, and displayed their dead on the city gates? The final conclusion is... no. He wouldn't have taken it personally, it would've just been business, but perhaps it's because he's so used to violence as a transaction. He didn't know who the people were that had ultimately fallen under his blade. Their screams hadn't made him blink, or revel, or feel any sort of justice served or score settled.

It had simply been what it was, something that had to be done, a debt owed, a debt cashed, and that would settle the score bar retaliation. Mikaere could retaliate right this moment, if he so wished, Feary wouldn't take that personal either, simply a continuation of their inevitable violent business together, but that would turn this bunker into a bloodbath, at the end of the day.

And as Mikaere says, his people are already a dying breed. If he truly cared so much as to see their business transaction as personal, he wouldn't risk the lives of his people like Feary might be inclined to do. Right?

Speculation, ultimately. He doesn't know the man. Never interacted with him face to face until this moment, although he's heard whispers about him. Feary doesn't gamble, contrary to popular belief. His bets are calculated.

A slow grin spreads out across his face, taking Mikaere's hand and kissing his knuckles. "I'm sorry for havin' perpetrated such ugly, violent business upon your people, darlin'." Who says he can't be diplomatic when he has to be? "The understandin' we can reach, I think, is one of mutual benefit, see. As ye say, you're a dyin' breed, an' as it is... I'm as skilled a hunter as I'm a conservationist, if ye will. Ye throw in your towel w' me, and I'll see that ye can recoup your numbers, lost by my hands an' maybe others too. Ye stand by us, now and in the future, an' I'll make sure we stand by you."

[folliesofmiceandmen]

"i'm not averse to it, i'm simply not hungry right now." or earlier, or yesterday, or much at all. it's part of her weird brain chemistry, apparently, a lack of appetite. she doesn't try to think about it too hard, and tries to focus on the fact that she does make herself eat if times between meals are starting to seem rather excessive. she plucks a bit from the roll in her hand to prove her point and takes a bite of it, though it doesn't really do anything for her, besides maybe proving some part of her point. or perhaps only makes her case worse.

and eyebrow lifts, and she leans back in the chair she's perched herself in, arms folding across her chest, eyebrow lifted at the pointed remark. to be quite honest, it's nothing she hasn't heard before. she's already a ghost, she's haunting whatever place she ends up in.

it might be why she's spent the last five years moving around so much. people get sick of a ghost.

"i talk to you." she points it out despite it being kind of pointless. "and dara, and benny." if her tone is defensive, it's hiding under the flat affect she's perfected over the years, the one that isn't even really a bluff, but she has no plans to let on if her feelings are actually a little bit hurt from the comment. "anyway, i talk when i have something to say."

[insainted]

As little as Deirdre eats, so much Daithí has already inhaled, eyes locked on the way she eats a crumb like it'd sustain even a mouse. But it's not the amount that she eats—or doesn't eat, rather—but just the fact that she tries, even if it's to spite him or to prove him wrong. Daithí has long put down his sword to get people to do things for the right reasons. Reasons, ultimately, don't matter, nor do intentions, really. Their eldest brother, helping the people of Burnington in times of crises, Daithí doesn't go fishing for the whys. Who cares about the why? It's the impact that matters, ultimately.

And Deirdre eating, even if it's a crumb, even if it's to prove him wrong, is far better than her not eating anything at all.

So Daithí gets up and presses an affectionate kiss at the top of his older sister's head to express what he's not saying, going over to fetch a glass of water. "Yeah?" he asks, not out of scepticism, but simply out of interest. Maybe he doesn't know much about his sister's social life, but three people—even if it includes himself, even if the talking the two of them aren't deep conversations, or any sort of philosophising about life—is more than talking to no one. Even it's a crumb, it's still something.

Setting down a glass of water next to Deirdre, he sits across from her again, downing half the glass before continuing stuffing his face. "They say there's a bear out there. Met a soldier or whatever, she said it's all bollocks. Dunno, maybe it is, right? What d'you think on it?"

[murdcrofcrows]

who: @insainted ( briar ) where: queenie's house

the minute queenie was free from the bunker, the first thing she'd ask was to be transported to the compound so that she could find her son and speak with davis. she ended up staying there overnight, to no one's surprise, but with the glowline down there was no way she could get home until the morning when a friend of hers or an associate of davis' could bring her and nik back to their home in burnington.

a good thing they had been able to dig her place out with the rest of them and luckily there was no damage to speak of because briar needed a place to stay until their cottage could be accessed again.

of course, queenie wanted them to stay with her. she needed to know what they had gotten up to during the storm and it would put some ease to her mind to see them in person after hearing many of the rumors going around that briar had been part of the hunting party during the storm. first things first, they needed fresh sheets and blankets for the guest room.

"it isn't much," queenie announced, coming back into the room with a blanket and a sheet set folded over her arm. "but it's warm and there's clean sheets, you just have to help me put them on." queenie winked and set everything but the fitted sheet. she turned, starting to unfold the sheet and checking which way it went before spreading it out and motioning for briar to go to the other side. "so, um," she looked out the door down the hall to where nikolas was playing quietly in his room. "i heard a crazy rumor you went out hunting during the storm?"

[insainted]

Perhaps there are more people who would've given her shelter for as long as she needed it. River absolutely would've, but they have Indika to shelter, who also lost his home, much more permanently than Briar did, and then he also had to contend with a broken leg that had happened... somehow—she hadn't wanted to pry at the time being, had simply helped River to settle him in, told them that if they needed anything, she'd be right there for them both. She'd given them both a kiss and had left them to their own space.

She would check up on them tomorrow, or the day after, when they've both had rest.

No, despite the many avenues of people who would have given them shelter, her sister had been at the top of the list to ask, right next to River. While she didn't think Queenie would deny her shelter—she knows the love she feels for Queenie is quite mutual—but her sister had been injured facing the blizzard herself, and asking to allow her room to say no would be the only respectful thing.

Of course Queenie hadn't said no. Perhaps Briar's presence is helpful because of her injury, and Briar would have absolutely no problem taking care of their nephew—whom she loves just as much as his mother—while Queenie heals. All in all, it all worked out well. That, and she gets to spend nights in with her sister, just the two of them, after Nik has been put to bed.

"It's more than enough," Briar says, taking the ends of the sheet as Queenie spreads it out, taking in a deep breath as it displaces the air towards them—it smells exactly like Queenie, and Briar knows that they'll sleep just fine. Tucking the sheet in, Briar pauses momentarily at their sister's question, eyes glancing up, before going back to what they're doing.

"I didn't go hunting," they reassure her, which is the truth—they didn't do any sort of hunting, they'd simply supported Tadhg, Bill, and Poe in the hunt, staying back and preparing all the toxin Tadhg needed to take the beast down as quickly as possible. The sight of the bear, the sound of the bear, even remembering it sends a shudder down their spine, however otherwise unflappable they might be. "I helped Tadhg go hunting, I made sure he got there and the ammunition was handled safely in the chaos of it all. I don't like my friends dying if I can help it."

[folliesofmiceandmen]

where: her apartment with: @insainted (lucy)

he knocked once, and then wondered if perhaps he should have called first. what if she's busy? what if she's not even here? but the cell service still isn't acting the best and danny knows that she said she was fine when they were apart, but there's still the part of him that has to check, that has to know, because if he doesn't, he's going to wonder. so he showed up instead.

he feels a little empty handed. he didn't stop to get her anything, no flowers or candy or anything that might be nice to give to the pretty girl you like, but he's already here, so the time to dwell on it is long past. he's almost startled when the door opens, but relieved that when it does, it's lucy there and not her roommate, who he's still not quite sure likes him very much.

"hey, i-- uhm. i probably should have called first to let you know i was coming. if you're busy, i can come back later, but i guess i just wanted to... see you now that i can do that. uhm... hey."

[insainted]

While she'd taken a day or so to sleep, curling up with Daria in an actual bed and not whatever was softer than a bunch of blankets on the floor, as well as shower and running laundries to make sure they have clean clothes and don't smell as though they've spent a whole week stuck in the community centre with half the town, it had been after all the self-care that Lucy had attempted to text her boyfriend, only to find the service still wouldn't work with her.

It'd been a week since she last managed to talk to him, even over text, because after the initial day, the service seemed to have tanked altogether, and she doesn't know when it might be back. It's frustrating, to say the least, and Lucy had decided that if it doesn't come back within a few days, she'd just go hunt him down instead.

Perhaps Danny had a similar idea, just with an accelerated timeline. Not really expecting anyone, Lucy is just wearing old pyjama pants—probably stolen from Santi years ago—and a tanktop under a thicker bathrobe to shield against the chill, she rips the door open with an annoyed expression that immediately melts away at the sight of her freak of a boyfriend standing there.

Lucy looks Danny's face over as he stumbles through his words—they've been dating for a few months now and yet—arms crossed over her chest. She doesn't respond, initially, then in an instance, she wraps her hand into the front of his shirt, balling it into a fist to all but yank him into the house, shoving the door closed behind him, and immediately kissing him as though her life depends on having her tongue down his throat.

Thing is, although she'd been slightly upset when Danny hadn't been amongst the group that had followed her cousin to the community centre, she realised that he had followed her demand to stay put to a T regardless of the opportunity laid before him to disregard her wishes therein. Lucy didn't brush pats that one at all, it'd been sitting in the back of her head since that moment.

"You're staying here," Lucy murmurs against his mouth, not even a suggestion, a statement, a fact, while taking his cool hands, goosebumps spreading across every inch of skin that comes into contact with his as she guides his hands around her and down into the back of her pyjama trousers to leave there. She doesn't care, frankly, if he has to work or what other obligations he might have, not right now. Under no circumstance is she going to sleep tonight without this man pressed against her, and that's a fact.

[archivedtruth]

Vera desperately doesn't want to have a suspicious bone in her body. Not when it comes to the army. But it's been really, really hard lately. As a kid, if you told her she'd be assigned to Ryō Sasaki's unit, she'd have been thrilled. Proud, even, to think she'd worked hard enough to be worthy of assignment to the squad of someone so respectable. As it is, though, it gnaws like a wound, like a rot she doesn't want to pay attention to.

It feels... cruel. And cruelty is not something Vera ever thought she'd experienced at the hands of the system before. Though she chides Isaac for his anger, sometimes she envies it. She can only imagine the catharsis of allowing that to burn through her veins, across her tongue, to let the world know. "Your food will go cold if you take so long to eat it." she replies instead, sticking her fork into his meal and stealing a bite for herself. She's sort of aged out of being able to use the 'growing girl' excuse, but it doesn't stop her.

And then, because she knows she can't actually avoid his question: "Friends? With Command Sergeant Sasaki?" He is decidedly not dad. He'll never be dad. "I don't think him being our sperm donor gives us special dispensation to get buddy-buddy with him. I don't... I don't know." And Vera hates not knowing things. Typically she hides it well, but Isaac knows her too well to miss the look on her face and the tone of her voice. She's dealing with this situation by distancing herself from it, analysing it, trying to understand it. Anything to avoid actually feeling it.

[insainted]

Vera always makes it clear, even between the lines, when she doesn't want to answer a question, or somehow can't, so while his question goes unanswered, Isaac takes his sister's comments on the temperature of his food as an answer in and of itself, deciding to not demand her to answer it regardless. A simple, brief, annoyed sigh is huffed out of his nose instead, and yet the fork finds its way into his mouth, never breaking eye contact.

Even the quick theft of his food goes uncountered, something so small but yet so Vera, something that he's missed in the years he's not managed to spend time with her.

The answer to his follow-up question pulls a sour wrinkle to his face, however, nose scrunching up in response as he chews. "I meant in general," he tells her, but still, the answer is interesting—and quite revealing, at that. Once upon a time, Vera had vouched for their father, almost loyally, despite having ever met the man, defending him from Isaac's dismay more than a few times. Something changed, and Isaac intends to find out what.

"Sperm donor, is it?" The pointed repeat of her word usage is the point itself, eyebrows raising in surprise. "What did he do? Wasn't the hero you imagined he'd be?"

[insainted]

FRANKIE DESTA ⸻ MAD SCIENTIST  . . .  WITH KIT  ( @murdcrofcrows )

Briar had thought the problem had been limited to her not being able to live in her house until most likely the spring and the majority of the snow had melted—whatever damage had occurred to her home due to the blizzard would be taken care of when it was easier to actually assess the damage. It never occurred to them that there's people relying on them being able to access their home, beyond their auntie and the Jackals. The latter is still an issue, of course, but it's not one that risks anyone's immediate health.

Besides, auntie would understand.

No, ultimately it had been Milo who made her realise the importance of getting at least that part of her house uncovered, sooner rather than later. Despite crises, even if she prefers to just sit down for a moment to process everything that had happened the past week, the extreme physical and mental exertion of the bear hunt, Briar knows that resting is not a luxury she can afford. Others, maybe, just not her. That's the sacrifice she'd made when she took on helping the Burnington community as best she can.

It means that there's no resting for her now, either, why she finds herself on the Mad Scientist's doorstep just after it's opened, this time not to hunt down Miah, but to speak to its proprietor. Not one to really drink alcohol or cause any sort of trouble in someone else's establishment, they'd been directed towards the back when asking for Frankie, and Briar finds themself moving through the depths of the bar that no one beyond employees often see, footfalls soft on the worn wood underfoot, holding the folds of their dress close to them to make their form as slim as possible, working their way through narrow corridors.

"Ms. Desta?" she calls out, ending at the far larger room holding Frankie's chemistry equipment, geared towards solving entirely different problems than Briar's—and yet the majority of it is all quite familiar to her nonetheless. "Ms. Desta," she says again, spotting the older woman between it all and picking up her pace to close the distance between them quickly. "Hi." Biting down on their bottom lip, Briar casts their eyes to the floor for a moment before looking up again, hands behind their back, foot idly kicking at the floor.

They take a deep breath in, filling their lungs to capacity, and... "I'm sure you know that my house is buried and I've already asked Miah to help me get inside because his brother came by for his regular pick-up but then I realised I had no way to get to it, because my house is buried, but also that I'd have no way to help him in the future, at least not until spring arrives and the snow melts, and it wasn't a problem initially, because my sister is letting me stay with her and I love her very, very, very much, but now I can't do anything, because Remedy Roots isn't equipped for the stuff I usually do at home and I can't exactly do it anywhere because, as you know, there's the dangers of fumes with the things we do, but then I remembered you have all this stuff, so I wondered if Miah helped me retrieve my equipment, at least until spring and I can put it all back, can I do my work here, with you?"

[murdcrofcrows]

who: @insainted ( briar ) where: remedy roots

normally, jeremiah would be the one to go to remedy roots and get his hormone replacement medicine but miah has been busy non-stop helping miss frankie at the mad scientist and handling the implications around milano silva found unresponsive at the community center during the storm. normally he would be fine waiting but there was something else he wanted to talk to miss briar about anyways.

milo waited patiently a few steps away from the counter while one of the other employees went to grab briar. he moved forward again when he got sight of her again. "good afternoon, miss briar. i know you're used to talking to my brother but i was hoping i could meet with you about a couple things and see if you got my um, my stuff in?"

[insainted]

It had taken a handful of days before the government had managed to uncover much of Burnington's major infrastructure, and today had been the first day the apothecary had been able to open, after Briar had made sure the remaining piling snow had been shovelled to the side. She'd managed to sit down in the back office for the back thirty minutes, leaving the actual minding of the store to Damo for the time being, when she's called to the front due to a customer asking for her by name.

With her normally unruly head of curls pulls up into a big, equally unruly bun, Briar comes out from the back to see who it is who needs her particularly—and not just Damo or any of the other herbalists or alchemists who can take custom commissions just the same—dark eyes scanning the store. It's not yet quite busy, post-blizzard, so their eyes land on Milo in an instant.

Miss Briar always manages to conjure a smile to their face and a little tingle down their spine at the fun of the manner of address, the way it seems to be unique to Milo and no one else, walking up to him immediately. As he finishes his question, though, Briar finds their smile fading slowly, brows furrowing instead. The thing is, what she provides for Jeremiah—or, Milo in particular—is not something she can do here. The apothecary simply isn't equipped for the very hard, modern science of chemistry required to fill requests that Milo relies on, and although Briar makes sure that she has his requests filled at least two weeks before his brother comes by to pick it up, it does leave them with a bit of a problem.

"Oh," she says, voice quiet, fiddling with and tugging at the folds of her dress as she bites her lip. "Well, technically, I have it verified, but it's at home, and... my home is buried, and I don't know how long it's gonna take before I can move back into it again." But that's not an excuse that will do, not now, for the short term, and certainly not for the long term. Who knows how long they're going to have to stay with their sister for, waiting for the snow to melt? They'd not even thought about the fact that someone like Milo relies on them like this, relies on them being able to operate in their home even beyond the fact that they are currently, technically, houseless.

But 'no sorry' is not an option Briar is satisfied with, especially not with something so vital as this. Something like Milo's health. Taking a deep breath, Briar reaches out and rests their hands on his shoulders, sliding them down his arms to take both his hands in theirs. "Give me a day or two, is that okay? I'll ask Jeremiah to help me dig out what you need and I'll send it along with him. As for future supply..." Briar presses her lips together for a moment. "Let me worry about that."

[insainted]

BENEDICTO MUÑOZ ⸻ SHAMROCKS WAREHOUSE  . . .  WITH LEN  ( @eatabug )

The twins have been working on this particular one for months now, a project that has helped them not just learn how to work together, but integrate them into one well-oiled machine. It had been a test of their combined skill, to tear something so incredibly sophisticated apart, see what makes it tick, learn from it to be able to produce something similar with the same technology going forward by putting it back together—but better.

Gray had already told Benny to come by, leaning back as he watches the code he wrote compile again to flush out any final bugs and glitches that might come up. Line after line comes up green, the colour reflected in attentive eyes as the pen in his hand taps rhythmically against the notepad in front of him, the silence stretching in the room, despite the older man lying back in the chair.

Installing it would be the final and easiest step in it all, simply since they don't have to operate, Afterglow has already done the difficult medical part of this whole thing years ago. That said, it's been empty for a few months, and as the compile keeps running, Gray pushes himself back and away from the desk towards where Benny is clicking on the thin flashlight he picks up along the way.

"Lift the patch up," he says, the second thing he's said to the man since he got here, the first being to lie back in the chair.

[insainted]

DUTCH TAYLOR ⸻ MEDICAL R&D OFFICES  . . .  WITH SIERRA  ( @folliesofmiceandmen )

Isaac doesn't know if he's always been a man of patience or if that's just something they've created of him, but as the nurse had told him to take a seat in an all too familiar place to wait for Dr. Estrada, he took a seat and had since simply... remained there. It's been no more than a week since he'd been officially cleared for fieldwork, and he doesn't exactly know what he'd been expecting, but being back here so soon hadn't been on his list.

His head rests back against the wall as his eyes come to rest on the ceiling without truly seeing it, the only few times in his life where he feels safe to retreat into his head. When they're not actively poking holes into it, when he's alone, without doctors or scientists or engineers messing with him, body and mind.

Perhaps he ought to feel some grudge against Afterglow for what they've put him through all these years, the pain, the brute force training, the way he has blank spots in his mind, like memories stolen out of his head, noted only by the clean spot in a dusty room it's left behind. Before seeing her again, Isaac hadn't even been able to remember his sister's face.

Something shifts in his periphery and shatters his reverie, and before he can really process who, what, or even where, his body has already reacted, a knife flying through the air to embed itself into the door on the other side of the room, a hair away from skewering its unfortunate target.

Registering who the head belongs to comes almost at the same time as the annoyance. "I've told you not to sneak up on me, Taylor," Isaac snaps, getting up to wrap his hand around the knife handle and yank it out in a swift motion. Dutch fucking Taylor. Some parts of them are siblings, aren't they? Or maybe more like cousins. It's part of his existence that makes Isaac's even possible, and perhaps he ought to feel thankful for him for it.

But he's not. God, he cannot stand the guy.

"What do you want now?"

[insainted]

RYO SASAKI ⸻ BARRACKS  . . .  WITH MEL  ( @strcinedhecrts )

The moment he'd heard whose squad he'd been assigned to, Isaac's blood had run cold. On the surface, he hadn't reacted, simply saluted and gone on his way, but on the inside, a storm had been raging. For a while, packing his bags, Isaac had wondered what he'd done to deserve this assignment, where he'd made the mistake, going over every moment of his years of specialist training—however traumatic half of it may have been—to find the moment it had gone wrong.

Even now, as he marches to the barracks where his new squad is stationed, he's coming up blank. Perhaps if he were any other person, he might chalk it up to coincidence, but he'd not been trained to believe in coincidence at all. No, this is something else.

He finds him quickly, walking up to him directly, eyes scanning him as he approaches, confidently and with purpose. His father. It's all he can do to keep a sneer from forming on his face, all he can do to keep himself from audibly scoffing. Dropping the duffel bag of what belongings he had to the floor by his feet, Isaac lifts his hand to his forehead the way he'd been trained to do, eyes looking straight ahead of himself.

"Specialist Isaac Attano, sir," he announces himself, chin lifting slightly, brown eyes snapping over to his father's face briefly before resuming to stare at the point straight ahead of himself. "I was assigned to your squad."

[insainted]

DAPHNE PATEL ⸻ LINO'S PLACE  . . .  WITH SIERRA  ( @folliesofmiceandmen )

Perhaps it had been the fact that the option to see Daphne had been taken away from him by the blizzard, or perhaps it's just because in the heat of the moment, over text, he'd suggested they have dinner together when it's all over. Lino doesn't rightly know, but he's a man of his word, despite everything, he tries to be a man of integrity in that way—it's exactly why he doesn't give his word all too often. But he'd given his ex-girlfriend a time and a date, and it's why he's currently in his kitchen, cooking the dinner he'd promised her.

Regardless of his relationship with his father, he's still his father's son, and both his parents had put upon him the importance of cooking, the joy and the culture of it, which is why, unlike many of the people he grew up with, Lino does actually know how to cook, how to clean, how to home make. He doesn't do it often because he doesn't have to, he pays people to take care of that nonsense, but he's not... helpless.

The food is already well on its way, something simple like pasta carbonara, with the noodles cooking when the doorbell rings. He wipes his hands on a kitchen towel quickly before opening the door, stepping to the side to let Daphne in. "Is the kid okay?" Maybe not something he'd score points with with anybody else, calling your flesh and blood 'the kid', but it's never been something negative in Lino's book. He always asks. Might not usually have time, but he does what he can from a distance.

[murdcrofcrows]

"look at t'at, the hero knows my name. suppose i should feel privileged about that, yeah?" it was a rhetorical question laced in gleeful sarcasm. even though banks was not particularly gleeful, nor were his thoughts sarcastic, it was something he was genuinely surprised about. then again, rafe probably reminded him of it.

it wasn't as if banks knew his older cousin personally. no, he simply knew the myth and absolute legend through the biased stories of his gran and other memories scattered with family and old photo albums. banks had unit mates he's known better than he knew dante winters.

"no," banks answered his question flatly. after all, what could dante help him with? if he needed something why wouldn't he go to the person who's proven to always have his back and vice versa? in his experience, which made it factual for him up until that point, rafe is the only person banks can count on. "think rafe and i can manage, we've done well for ourselves up till now."

he leaned in then and squinted his eyes with curiosity. "unless you want to tell me what was worth abandoning gran over? could've at least told us you weren't dead. think she deserved that much."

[insainted]

Dante narrows his eyes at Banks' words, but doesn't otherwise respond to an obvious scathing jab. It's not a question that needs a reply, both of them know that, and so he isn't going to devolve whatever Banks intended with this into an argument about his feelings on the matter. Frankly, he's too old for that kind of shit.

Instead, as Banks states his negative to Dante's sort-of-invitation for a conversation, he sits up a bit more with a deep sigh. Dante gives the younger man a nod, slow and lingering in its motion, one of subtle agreement in the statement that follows the single syllable. He'd no qualms about it, even if his conversation with Rafe hadn't been quite so productive. The two don't strike Dante as incapable in the slightest; on the contrary, they carry themselves with the kind of experienced intention and confidence one earns only by having fallen and gotten up by one's own strength so many times.

In a way, if situations were different, if sentiments were different, he'd be proud of the two of them. Hell, he is proud, but he knows that neither Cawela boy would quite appreciate that acknowledgement from him.

Then Banks just comes out swinging, directly, with a question his older cousin hadn't even gotten to. Rafe had shut him down almost immediately, had made it clear that he doesn't barter in excuses, and the topic of his auntie hadn't even managed to come up so concrete as Banks put it. Had he abandoned his auntie? Perhaps, unintentionally, by being on an entirely different continent, trying to serve the Commonwealth, as foolish as tht turned out to be. And he's still doing it, isn't he?

"My child," he tells Banks, the same reason he had given Rafe, the reason Rafe had shut him down almost abruptly. Whatever problem the older Cawela cousin seemed to have with him, it didn't extend to Dottie, and trying to hide behind it, as Rafe had put it, hadn't won him any favours. But then, it is the honest truth. "Her mother had stolen her, kidnapped her, and, as it turns out, had attempted to drown her not long after the fact. I'd spent the better part of nineteen years trying to find her. And her mother."

But that's not the least of it. "I wrote every week. But," Dante sighs, rubbing his hands against his face slowly. "Your cousin told me you've served just as I have. And therefore I don't need to explain to you that the Commonwealth Army strictly serves itself. They were the intermediary between us. If your grandmother didn't get any messages from me, it's because the army we gave our lives to didn't want her to get them. Not because I didn't send them."

He drops his hands, a frown deepening lines etched into his face from a lifetime of worry and anger and fighting. "Look, lad. Maybe my apology won't mean shite to you like it ain't mean shite to your cousin, but... for what it's worth. I am sorry. Lot of shite I regret in my life. This is one on a long list of 'em. But my child... she ain't one of 'em, right?"

[eatabug]

❝ what? ❞ for a moment, indika isn't sure what devan is asking him. is he on drugs? why would he be on drugs when he'd just come from the snow? surely he would've gotten lost. when the whole world is covered in white, everything looks like everything and nothing looks like anything anymore. it's too easy to get turned around. he would know, he'd done it with a clear head. no, not clear, was it? clouded by dreams, by river. ❝ no, i'm not―no drugs. it's―it's the cold that makes my glow flicker. or the adrenaline, maybe, not―no. ❞ he says it as if that's what made them suspicious. ❝ no drugs. they're not here? ❞

devan still hasn't answered his question. indika doesn't understand. he'd seen it so clearly. the vision was supposed to take them to river. not to the compound. not to devan. why would the dread father trick him like this? it couldn't be punishment, could it? he's devout. he's faithful. was it because he'd left listener kahn? he couldn't protect the listener. and what was the vision if not a direct message from the dread father himself? he'd only been doing what he thought he was meant to.

so caught up is he in this awful spiral of thought that indika doesn't even realize devan's come closer until they're hoisting him up out of his seat and pulling him into their side when he starts listing unsteadily the second he's on his feet. ❝ i don't know, ❞ indika confesses, leaning into devan. they're a warm, solid presence. he's still shivering. ❝ no, i do know. i don't remember. or maybe i'm not sure? i walked here from under the ground. there was a shelter, but it wasn't a shelter, and the dread father―he told me river was here. he showed me. i thought i was supposed to leave. ❞

he blinks, his shoulder pressing into devan as he tilts his head to better look at him. ❝ is it bad? the snow―i couldn't feel it, not for very long. i couldn't feel much of anything. ❞

[insainted]

Devan's head is reeling, not because the injury is so severe—a fracture is always severe, relatively, of course—but because he can't tell if this guy is delirious, suffering from some sort of mental break, or if this is just his baseline. In the past months since discovering he had a twin in the first place, he's been slowly getting to know River and working on his relationship with them. He hasn't gotten even close to getting to the point where he'd extended his efforts to those closest to them, even though he had heard plenty of things about Indika and Briar both.

He understands that Indika is involved in that cult up north, but he's never looked into their beliefs or what really makes them tick, as that's simply not part of his job, and he never thought he'd be in situations where he'd directly interact with them before River, so the ramblings coming out of Indika sound beyond foreign to him, and he has no real idea how to reply to him, what to tell him to get him to calm the fuck down. Tully would argue he's not exactly good with people anyway, so the chances of setting Indika off more if he engages in it are too high to chance right this moment.

"I'm not a doctor," Devan argues at the question of the severity of the injury, teeth gritted as he utters the sentence, not due to any sort of emotion, but due to the effort of carrying the man down hallways, making sure that Indika doesn't put any additional weight on the leg than he already has. "I'm a soldier, I've seen enough injuries out in the field to know when shit needs medical attention, that's the extent of it."

The thing is, does he go to his squad's combat medics, or head directly to the emergency room for this? They know for a fact that Max and Banks are both on stand-by, just as the rest of them are, but without knowing the exact extent of the injury and how much more Indika managed to exacerbate it by continuing to walk on it, they just don't know if this is something the two medics are capable of fixing on short notice. If he does need surgery of sorts, then the better bet is the emergency room.

But on that hand, he doesn't know just how busy the emergency room is due to the on-going crisis.

There's a deep frown that etches itself in between Devan's eyebrows, as he stops at a T-junction of hallways, a route underground that only Afterglow staff knows about, emergency hallways in case it's not safe to cross the compound in open air. It works in their favour in the current situation, and perhaps this was one of the situations the tunnel system had been created for in the first place.

But he has to make a decision now. Running down a quick list of pros and cons for each option, Devan pulls Indika down the left hall towards the hospital instead. Less to explain to his commander this way, anyway—he's just helping an injured citizen, as far as the hospital would know, right?

"Listen, man, I'm gonna need you to steel your mind, alright? You're already getting warmer, the cold's gonna get out of that limb, and you're really gonna feel it, and it's gonna hurt like a motherfucker once the adrenaline flushes out of your body." It's all words spoken from experience, both first hand and second hand. "I need you to stay calm, okay? I'm not gonna leave you unless you want or need me to, I'll stay with you the whole way, but I need you to remain calm or you're gonna make it harder for us to help you. Alright?"

[murdcrofcrows]

this was honestly the worst place for archie to get stuck. 'with the people' during a storm they're likely blaming the governance, afterglow, or both. and lucky archie works for all of the above. fun times. he knew well enough to keep his head down and stick close to allies, if not people that he at least knew wouldn't lead the charge to put his head on a spike.

maybe following delia hadn't been the best choice for that, as if that hasa ever stopped him before...

maybe that's why he entertained lino when he spoke up and didn't keep moving forward. she looked like she wanted to be left alone, anyways. "don't worry, she rarely has a hard time telling me to fuck off on her own." archie leaned against the table lino was at before falling into the seat across from him. "oooo, good one nepo baby. come up with that one on your own?" archie crossed his legs with a sigh, looking out at the wandering citizens of burnington. "you know in texas there's been reports of bullfrogs as big as humans? maybe we should move, sounds like true love is waiting for us both over yonder."

[insainted]

"And yet you don't take the hint, sounds right," Lino replies with a slight shake of the head. The jabs coming from Archie don't faze him in the slightest, simply because they're just that. It doesn't mean anything. Without an invite—taking Archie's continuation of conversation as such—Lino heads over and sits down next to him.

As much as he doesn't like the man, he's still the best company he can get, and not just in this particular situation. Others might see it as a sad thing, the fact that your closest —though that doesn't really say much when you don't actually have friends—is the guy you can't stand, who can't stand you. It annoys him, of course, that Archie is the guy he spends the most of his social time with, occasionally surpassed by Daphne when they hit a phase of obsession again before getting too busy—or maybe bored?—to maintain a relationship.

"Bullfrogs?" Lino repeats, brows knitting together in consternation. "Aren't those very aggressive? I've seen data on them that they're very f—"

Abruptly pausing, looking towards where Archie's lady had taken her exit, Lino makes the connection. "No, never mind, I think that's quite fitting for your taste in women. I guess I can imagine worse ways to die. Freezing to death in this derelict these people dubbed a community centre, for one."