text to: open
pitch: i may have...
pitch: gotten my leg caught in a crab trap
jude: who is this
jude: not funny
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

blake kathryn

JVL

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Claire Keane
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Peter Solarz

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@jvdesandoval
text to: open
pitch: i may have...
pitch: gotten my leg caught in a crab trap
jude: who is this
jude: not funny
natedeckardâ:
If he wasnât at the dig site, the boarding house, or his hammock, then he found himself at the bar with a cheap beer in hand. It wasnât by any means the quality he desired, but after a few, one couldnât tell just how bad the brew was. So far, things hadnât been all too terrible, though his poor attitude wouldnât suggest such positivity. Heâd stayed to himself with the exception of an intern and Pitch.
Brows furrowed as the request from the opposite end of the bar was called his way. It wasnât all that busy on their side of things, but the crowd outside was as wild as one could imagine for a nice Friday night. He was sure his team was enjoying the weather out, some using its niceness for more good than not. âIâm sure thereâs plenty of people out there thatâd be eager to fuel your thirst,â he replied, skeptical at best.
It was funny how, over time, Jude had come to recognize the accents and mannerisms of Ialis locals; it had something to do with growing up the weird kid in school and trying to figure out how to blend in. And this guy was definitely an outsider - at least, as much as Jude was. He was only a little tempted to hit on him. There was a stronger impulse to get on his nerves, because his frustration had been festering all week.Â
âYeah, but Iâm asking you,â he said, slipping into a drawl on asking. Then he shook his head, fogged over by exhaustion and shitty beer. âNo pressure, man. Maybe we got off on the wrong foot. Hell, you know what - I should buy you a drink, Iâm good for it.â Jude flagged the bartender down once more. âAnd now we can get a whole bottle,â he told the stranger, âsince weâre sharing. Youâre welcome.â
hallecometâ:
Up till she was around twelve, Halleâs parents would take her on holidays to Norway in August, when Ialis was hot and all the dogs had started to pant. Theyâd go see her maternal grandmother, an embattled old matriarch with a glint in her eye and an uncanny knack for knowing exactly when somebody was going to knock at the door. Halleâs mother told her that Agnetha was a witch. It was supposed to be a winking joke, but Halle had shared enough looks with her grandmother to sense some truth in her motherâs teasing.
Once, Agnetha had told Halle that she could sense in her granddaughter a sense of strong intuition. Being all of eight years old, Halle had asked her mormor what that meant. Agnetha told her that it meant she could see, and feel, things that others couldnât. That when she looked at someone, she could feel them. Her grandmother died four years after that, whilst they were still on Ialis. Her parents flew with her to Norway one last time for the funeral, then decided to pack up their beach house and leave the island. Halleâs mother had said that she didnât want to stay put, to grow old and rattle about in the same house for fifty years. Of course, that was before Halleâs dad got sick, and they returned.
Agnethaâs words echoed in Halleâs head as she took a sideways look at the man behind the wheel. Jude the Obscure. It was perfectly clear that he was deflecting, that he was perhaps regretting picking her up. He was courteous, though, and curious. Halle wanted to figure him out. âFor work,â she repeated. It was unusual for anyone to pass through Ialis for work-related reasons, unless you were a fisherman. Halle wondered if he was part of the dig - sheâd heard talk of the rival group, the corporate team, the big dogs of archaeology. Big digs? She was tempted to ask, but didnât want to raise Judeâs hackles. Plus, she liked the mystery. âSweet. Yeah, I grew up here. Just moved back,â she added, and now it was Halleâs turn to be guarded. âHowâre you finding the island?â
Jude was grateful when she didnât pry; he got along best with people who didnât ask too many questions, which was why he liked Max. His mother was the only exception, but those questions were easy to answer - have you eaten, are you seeing anyone, are they paying you well, are you getting enough sleep, do you like the people, is it beautiful there - yes or no. Not the probing, open-ended questions from classmates and colleagues that often meant he was being sized up, compared to something or someone. Jude had grown to be good at small talk after a few years of driving around, and he much preferred to stay on that level with acquaintances.Â
âNice,â he echoed, although he wondered where sheâd moved from. He figured heâd return the favor of privacy. âI like it, I guess - or I havenât found anything to dislike. Itâs comfortable.â That was mostly thanks to Cambra funding, but there was nothing to make their lodging stand out from any other theyâd had on previous jobs. It was the terrain that interested him, that made Ialis unique, the hills and valleys and the coastal settlements. He left the culture and the history stuff to the rest. âIâm not sure Iâd want to live here forever - no offense, itâs just not what Iâm used to. But you got some nice topography,â he said, matter-of-fact, as they started up the hill. âAny cool spots youâd recommend to a visitor?âÂ
zolguinâ:
âyouâre kidding!â he crows, peering into the car. something childlike apparent in the way his eyes lit up or the sound of uncontained glee in his voice. he was sixteen when he finally followed his uncle off ialis to a neighbouring island â his first encounter with cars. ever since then zack had a newfound fascination but never found much opportunity on ialis to examine them until the diggers came. âthen donât mind if i do,â he quickly opens the door and slides into the car before jude could change his mind. he had been on his way to the cambra dig site to do some translations for the team anyway.
Jude was a little annoyed, but more amused - their guide always felt so damn young, so naive, for everything he knew about the island. He also talked too much, and it was all too possible that he would blather about the equipment in the backseat to Emma; if only there was a way to distract him. âHey, you can drive, right? Want to try it out?â He slapped the wheel lightly with his palm and turned to look at Zack. âItâs Cambraâs anyway, and I wonât tell.âÂ
jude: simon thinks he saw someone from cambra at the taha dig and in the current state, everyone is eager to point fingers. who really was there that night? GOAL PARTNERS: simon and elena
đđđ
FRIDAY NIGHT, CARIAKI, @natedeckard
Jude beckoned the bartender over for another drink, which wasnât well-deserved at all. Heâd had nothing to celebrate after a week, even after heâd stuck his neck out in defiance of their consensus to only dig with a permit. Emma suspected - or at least, he suspected she suspected. He couldâve been arrested by the local police, and all for naught. High risk, high reward, right? Cheers to that, he thought.Â
His colleagues were out elsewhere, probably team bonding or pep-talking or whatever they did when he disappeared, so he could drink himself to a self-loathing death without witnesses. It was a warm night, nice enough that most of the crowd was clustered around the large outdoor tables, and Jude was cloaked in the stillness of the near-empty bar. Until he made eye contact, briefly, with someone a few stools down from him. âWant to buy me a drink?â he asked mildly.
what's your favourite western song? alternatively, a song you think doesn't deserve much appreciation as you think it should.
judeâs music taste is mostly the slower stuff by dolly parton/tammy wynette/patsy cline, and the ranchera songs his mother used to play all the time. probably paloma negra, especially sung by lila downs.
if your life was a musical what would be the title of 3 of the songs
1. just a boy who went to MIT (but itâs not a big deal or anything)
2. cambra all in this together reprise
3. j.u.d.e. (stands for jiggy ultra delicious engineer)
who would you eat if you were trapped on ialis with no food source
nate
hallecometâ:
she was on her way to the town hall, the administrative hub of ialis. no more interesting than it sounded, full of dull brown doors and plastic chairs and a clean blue light which made the air-conditioned rooms even more cold. the constant buzz of the electrics and the busy bureaucracy of it all made halle think of a beehive.Â
still, sheâd trekked there enough times in the past few days to come to appreciate its charms, too. the first receptionist of three that halle would usually deal with liked the colour yellow, and often wore a lemon cardigan embroidered with a tiny curled-up cat. the second receptionist always looked sleepy, and was usually engaged with a small portable television she kept beneath the counter. from the canned laughter and distinctive music, halle recognised a popular greek soap opera. the third receptionist, who had been assigned to processing the taha dig, did not like halle. wishy-washy, she would mutter in ialic beneath her breath. she takes us or leaves us. outsider.
it was with this third receptionist that halle would be dealing with today, making her short hike from the beach a sombre one. alone with her thoughts, halle wandered along the main road, returning the sympathetic smiles of the passers-by who liked her family and avoiding the cold eyes of those who didnât trust them.Â
the sound of a revving motor slowing beside her caught her attention. halle watched the window of the hired car roll down, assuming sheâd be asked for directions, but raised her eyebrows upon recognising the driver. a handsome guy, sheâd seen him taking photographs of the island once or twice. at first sheâd pinned him as a tourist, but she wasnât sure. at the offer of a ride, halle paused. sheâd spent enough time wandering across europe to mistrust lone men in cars, but this guy didnât have those vibes, she sensed. this guy seemed distracted, as if picking her up was completely inconsequential to his day.Â
so halle reached out one bracelet-laden arm to open the passenger-side door, ducking her head in and saying, âthanks, dude, i appreciate it. iâm heading a little further up the hill, just past the plaza.â a pause, before making sure to look him in the eyes. âiâm halle. youâre new in town, right?â
Definitely a familiar face, although he couldnât say he knew where theyâd met - if at all. She had the sort of face one could place anywhere and nowhere at all. Jude made eye contact in the mirror and felt oddly vulnerable; then again, it was par for the course when heâd used to drive weird college kids around Boston. They had good stories, because they were youthful in a way Jude had never quite experienced. âNice to meet you,â he muttered, unsure if he meant it, and merged into the left lane easily. âYeah, thatâs on my way.âÂ
Jude was about to turn the radio on - again, driver mode to deal with the awkward car silence - when Halle spoke. âYou could say that,â he replied. For the moment, his mind had drifted from the equipment in the back that really wasnât supposed to be there. He hadnât made much of an effort to get to know the locals of the island; it seemed like more trouble than it was worth to engage with people who either didnât know anything about archeology, or hated archeologists for stealing their stuff. Jude wasnât here to take sides. It was easier to play it safe and avoid talking about his job at all. âIâm, uh, just passing through, I guess. For work. You live here? Itâs quite a trek up that hill.â
rcsettastoneâ:
she smiles in her closed-lipped, noncommittal manner that was not unlike a comma â not particularly for its shape, but for its ability to move things onto the next clause. elĂ©na was adept at the transferral of things â topics of conversation, cards between her fingers, priceless artifacts moving from her hand to that of her sponsorâs.Â
âsi, sĂ,â she urges her wellness with two slow dips of her chin, watching locals barter over baskets of bright things. âi appreciate the island, but i dislike idleness. iâll be happy when the permits come through.â bemused, elĂ©na turns to jude as he offers the bottle, removing her hand from the water to make a mutedly playful gesture of flicking her fingers at him. âand for you ââ she watches as the water droplets harmlessly discolour his shirt before taking a sip. âgracias.â
looking again out into the main square, elĂ©na nods at his assessment. there is the latent curiousity as to whether any members of tahaâs team have passed by, and as she returns his water, she asks with her gaze fixed in the distance: âand you? how do you feel about andros tahaâs crew, jude?â
Ah, the big âPâ word. Jude is used to things happening with ruthless efficiency. The only thing he has patience for is developing film; he likes that it forces him to slow down, to wait. It unmoors him, if only briefly. But permits - those are things he doesnât see the need to wait for. He doesnât voice this, only hums in agreement with ElĂ©na. He flinches when she makes to splash him, and is equally quick to mask his embarrassment at overreacting. It certainly distracts him from her vague reply.Â
"I donât feel anything about them,â he replies, a little smug. And he doesnât. Theyâre annoying, sure - theyâve claimed a dig site that could have been Cambraâs, and the locals are less welcoming to two groups of noisy outsiders. Apart from that, Jude canât imagine why they would make a difference, and he hasnât bothered to get to know them. âWeâve had competitors before, right?â The sun is beginning to sink and the square has filled up with people passing through; they draw a few curious stares, but nothing more. âDonât tell me theyâve scared you,â he says, probing a little. âAlthough Iâm sure they arenât above that kind of thing.âÂ
remyparkerâ:
â i wonât say no to one if youâre offering, â says remy. their hands are over their eyes, blocking the sun, and they are squinting as they look into judeâs car. they open the door and get into the car, putting their backpack at their feet, before closing the door then fastening their seat belt. they let their head rest against the headrest before turning to look towards jude.Â
â hey jude, â they trill the familiar tune before laughing quietly, their shoulders shaking. â i appreciate this. not that i couldnât have walked. itâs not far. or too hot today. but who am i to say no to a free ride ? especially from my favorite pocket man. whatâve you got in their today ? pokeballs ? pocket watch ? stolen illegal goods that you plan to fence on the black market ? â
Fuck, he really shouldâve looked closer. If heâd realised it was Remy he would definitely have left them to make their own way, but as it is itâd be too suspicious to kick them out of the car. Itâs technically company property, anyway. Some re-calculations: if he can drop Remy off at the dig, somehow persuade them that he left something important at the hotel, drive back - and make some kind of plea to a higher power that Remy wonât tell Emma - itâll be fine.Â
Jude sighs as he pulls out of the parking lot. âYouâre welcome, and none of your business. Like I said the first three times you asked, the pockets are very helpful.â He frowns when they mention illegal and makes deliberate eye contact with them in the mirror. âJust, uh, land surveying equipment. You wouldnât get it.â He looks away and turns the radio on; itâs Top 40, which he hates, but itâll do. He briefly turns the volume down to add, âAnyone ever tell you you ask too many questions?âÂ
unscrollingaviâ:
âOh, itâs not for a souvenââ Avi was caught off guard when the photo was placed in his hands. âDid you take this?â he asked. âI have a Canon AE1 myself, but nowhere to develop anything just yetâŠâ The words, mumbled lazily, trailed off while he studied the photograph.Â
âGod, no, that wonât see the light of day outside of research,â he snorted. The photographed was tucked between the pages of the well-loved notebook, just behind the sketch. Were it not for the limited amount of film, he wouldnât have had to resort to the pencil. âIâm hoping I can figure where this thing came from. I asked a couple of locals about it but they werenât too keen on answering my questions.â
âNice, I have a ââ he stopped short and took a moment to consider the stranger. Heâd meant to tell him about the tiny darkroom heâd set up at Cambraâs offices, but he wasnât planning to open his precious space up. Especially since ElĂ©na had talked him into sharing it. âI have an FM2.â Jude pulled it out of the pouch at his hip. Itâs not showing off, he thinks, just a demonstration. âYeah, I took it last week, but Iâm trying to ration my film. The light is great here. In the late afternoon the sun hits the volcano from behind, and if youâre on this side of the island - closer to the harbour, though - it looks incredible. Iâm trying to work with black and white more, the colors here show up really well.â He stopped short, aware that he was rambling. âUh, yeah.â
A researcher, not a tourist. Jude made some mental recalibrations, and tried to peek into his notebook surreptitiously. The stranger was now slightly more suspicious. âI guess they donât take kindly to newcomers asking too many questions,â he noted. âSo you research... sculpture? Art? Iâd like to know the deal with this fountain myself.â
me: i just want to be included!
me, after being included: what the hell and fuck
least to most likely to sleep with on the dig list: taha and cambra!
youâre all nasty
sorry i did it most to least but i canât be bothered to redo it
yakov (iâm sorry but itâs true) zack (is prob too young but tbh would be judeâs type) elĂ©na (felices los dos ;-)) max (two bros...) avi (heâs a spiritual dude when he wants to be) ronnie (ditto zack) irina nate simon pitch (thatâs emmaâs business) sang (still a snake in judeâs eyes) makara emma (see pitch) remy (cause she bullies him)
location: outside a local pub. OPEN
DIGGING WITHOUT PERMITS. max didnât hate his job. not really, it paid well and provided a roof over his head. he traveled, he saw things, saw everything, but sometimes he felt he didnât know what he was doing. working for the old man had never been like this, so cut throat, so serious. sometimes he felt like he was suffocating. he was supposed to be frequenting the bars less and less, supposed to be finding something to be passionate about, but he saw little point. he didnât know what he was doing. not like the others. beer bottle in hand, he kicked at a few rocks littered outside the pub, ready to make his way back to the camp site, when he recognized another archeologist. he raised his brows in greeting, holding up the beer as if to cheers.  â didnât know anyone else ever took a break. you lost or just less lame than i thought? â
He had his own bottle in hand, and heâd already guessed where Max would be when the work day ended. It had been a long day for both of them, he figured, but Max wasnât always easy to read. âYou know the answer to that,â he said, and clinked. âI have my usual spot over there if you want to join me.â He gestured with the bottle to a table outside the bar, spilling a little on the ground (and possibly on Max). âYou good? Itâs too early to be going stir-crazy on the island.â