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rebecca-richman

filmguruuu:

New still of Prim😞

#photos #look at this precious baby

andreya-roche

[Rebecca’s presence was a welcome comfort. She didn’t think about being trapped, or being sad, or being held back when she was around. Though small and even a little skittish, Becca carried with her a sense of home - it was easy to relax around her, to just get the feeling that everything was going to be all right. The sky could come crashing down and Andreya could be on the brink of death but if Rebecca was there, and she said it was going to be okay, Andreya would believe her.

She smiled when the girl returned the sentiment.] Can I give you a hug? [She asked, keeping personal boundaries in check, knowing that sometimes intimacy (even casual intimacy, like an embrace) could be unwanted for some people.

It felt like it had been a lifetime. She hadn’t seen Toby in weeks, she hadn’t seen Rebecca since their scavenging trip - it seemed people were really starting to accept their lives here and settle in, try to make something of it. Andreya longed for a home, at least, a place she could call her own for certain. If not a house, then with people. Everything needed to make a normal, livable environment seemed to be just out of reach.

The sadness swept over her again. She even noticed Becca scrutinizing her, and she didn’t have the heart to hide it from her. Andreya was downtrodden. The wear and tear of the colony was weathering her sunshiny personality, and she didn’t know how long her light would last before burning out. She needed normal again.

A smile perked on her face when Becca mentioned nail polish. Nail polish was normal. Nail polish had good memories of home. Isla had taught her the proper way of doing it so she would stop getting the nail polish all over her fingers. Andee nodded.] Sounds like a situation that can be rectified. [Offering her hand for Becca to take, she suddenly felt a little lighter. Nail polish. Good.]

rebecca-richman

[A hug. The question had a smile tugging at Becca’s lips; this, this was something she could actually give. Something she could give easily, genuinely. This was something she could do to help someone, as trivial as the action may be in the long run. She answered Andee with a nod, wasting no time in stepping forward and wrapping her arms around the woman’s waist, book still clutched in one hand.

And Andee felt warm and comfortable and familiar, like she could be Juli or Sophie or Caroline. Briefly Becca felt a pang of longing for her sisters, but she brushed it aside quickly. Andee wasn’t Juli or Sophie or Caroline -- and that was okay, too. Because she was Andee, and Becca was happy with that. Andee was safe, and Andee was kind, and Andee was fun. Even if she was having on off day right now. Those were something Becca knew all about, something she could never begrudge someone else for having.

So she clung tightly to Andee for as long as she needed, offering the woman another smile when she finally broke the embrace.

And it widened when she was Andee smile back at her offer of nail polish. Suddenly, she was actually excited; even more so than when she’d stumbled across the small treasure. Painting her nails with Andee would be much more fun than doing so by herself. And nail polish was normal, nail polish was fun.

This would be good for both of them.

Becca didn’t hesitate to take Andee’s hand in hers.] Good. [She echoed happily into the woman’s mind as she led them both through the halls toward her dorm, chattering away happily into Andee’s head.] It’s sorta clumpy, but I think it’ll still work. My sister Sophie knew a trick to make old nail polish fresh again, but I think you need nail polish remover for that.

#andee #BABIES

who-is-jr-archive

[J.R skipped most of his scheduled day today. Again. He avoided swiping his PDD when possible, in fact he’d used it one and that was in the morning to check his schedule. Otherwise, he’d quickly grab hold of open doors. Sometimes waiting round as though he were simply polite. Other times he’d slide a foot in quickly at the bottom. He didn’t want to risk any Elite with enough spare time on their hands to track him down. It’d have been easy to find him even if they didn’t check the system. At least that’s how he assumes the swiping works.

The library was always the perfect spot. Not that he could concentrate much nowadays with or without the noise. He’s been fucking up every day now. Not to mention with a therapist that genuinely tries, J.R couldn’t even stop himself thinking on it. The technicalities of it appealed to him. At least in the abstract sense. If he applied to himself he’d cringe. Such a simple thing could change everything. If he took ‘should’ out of his vocabulary, if he took a step back to try and really think what others see. If he could believe in a grey world rather than a black and white one.

They don’t see all the bad. That doesn’t fucking matter, he reminds himself, because he knows it’s there. She’s talking a load of shit.

With the day winding down, J.R thinks it’s safe for him to resurface. Wandering the halls, he ducks his head and quickly turns a corner on seeing his teacher for the lesson he’d just skipped. (For the third of sixth time, now).

J.R flinches at the little voice in his head more than the knock to his legs. Immediately tensing, ready to go on the defensive – but it’s only Rebecca. At the very least he’s quick enough to catch himself. Let the shocked and angered expression soften some.

He reaches out for the drawing but quickly stops himself. His knuckles were bruised, small scabs on his palms. Hoping Becca didn’t seem them, J.R’s quick to recoil. Stuffing the hands into his pockets. Even if the fabric scratches against them, he smiles small through the grimace.] It’s, uh, it’s fine. Don’t worry.

[He smiles. A tense, fleeting thing that many aren’t privy too.] Um, that drawing looked nice. So don’t… [He’s about to say don’t hide it but the sentence trails off, words feeling a little pointless.]

rebecca-richman

[Becca looks up to see J.R., and instantly a pang of guilt shoots through her stomach. She remembers how he’d reacted the first time she spoke into his head, how she’d made sure to stop doing it around him -- and now she wasn’t paying attention, and she’d upset him again.

Only he doesn’t look overly upset, and she finds herself relaxing slightly as he smiles at her -- unaware of the state of the hands he’s tucked into his pockets, too busy fretting over upsetting to him to notice. She offers back a small, shy smile of her own and nods, wanting to apologize again but unable; the words seem too insignificant to warrant using her PDD.

And she doesn’t want to have to use her PDD to talk to him. Doesn’t want to have to use it to talk to anyone. And she’s working on it, but it still feels like a herculean effort whenever she tries to speak to anyone other than Toby; and is anything she has to say really worth that kind of effort in the first place?

She’s pulled from those thoughts at J.R’s compliment, and instantly she can feel her cheeks flushing a light pink color. He saw the picture -- but maybe he didn’t think anything of it. Maybe he just thinks she was practicing. And she was just practicing. It just so happened that she’d been practicing on a boy she thought was cute; but that was nothing more than coincidence, a detail that J.R certainly doesn’t need to know about.

Becca smiles in spite of her embarrassment and bites her lip. Mustering up her courage, because today has not been a bad day, and maybe it can still be a good day. One of the days where she manages to get a word out, to someone other than Toby and maybe today that person can be J.R. She swallows hard. Braces herself. And then--]

Thank you. [Her voice comes out as nothing more than a whisper, so soft she’s not even sure if she heard it or she made it up. But her lips moved, and she felt the breath slip past them, and that’s more than she’s often able to manage. So she smiles up at him, proud of herself, even if the small victory holds no meaning for him.]

#jr #BLESS HIS LARGE SOUL

andreya-roche

[She was invariably sad today - no reason, really, just one of those moods she couldn’t drag herself out of by humming something or spending time on the training pitch. It was going to take serious brain work. Or a nap. Maybe a nap was what she needed, give her mind a rest and her body time to recharge. Andreya was like the walking dead through the hallways, pulling herself from her grade school-level science class and thinking about how allergic she was to mediocrity.

Which, of course, she promptly scolded herself for thinking, because she was decently average as a person on her best days. God, why was she such a bitch this afternoon? She blamed in on lack of chocolate.

And loneliness. Andreya had realized last night that it was coming up on her six month “anniversary” since her arrival at the colony. Six months without her clan, without a real purpose - trapped in concrete, with rules and chores and schedules. Her friends came and went faster than they ever had. She spent her nights alone, tucked in her bed, dreaming of someone’s - anyone’s - arms around her. She wanted to bury her face in someone’s neck and fall asleep, she wanted to kiss someone good morning and goodnight, she wanted not only to not be alone, but for this perpetual loneliness to finally start going away.

But it was only starting. It was stronger now than before, because it was starting to sink in: she wasn’t going to leave the colony. Not in her lifetime.

She was almost too put off for words when she felt someone bump into her, keeping her from her bed. But the moment she saw who it was, her features softened, and her heart got a little lighter. Rebecca. Andreya smiled, feeling the girl’s voice in the back of her mind.]

Hey, you. [She bent down and picked up her book, handing it to her.] I’ve missed seeing you around.

rebecca-richman

[A wave of relief crashed over Becca’s shoulders when worried blue eyes landed on none other than Andee. Andee, from whom she feared no anger, because it didn’t seem like something the woman was capable of. And so she smiled back, grateful for the fact that Andee seemed not to have noticed the drawing she’d tucked back into the book when she held it back out to her.]

Me too. [She voiced into Andee’s head as she took back her book gingerly, checking as inconspicuously as she could to make sure her drawing was safely tucked inside it. Some days -- some weeks, even -- were better for the fifteen-year-old than others, and the past few she had found it more and more difficult not to retreat back into herself, not to avoid everyone who wasn’t Toby.

But today she was feeling better. Today she was glad to see Andee -- even though the woman seemed...off, somehow. Still sunshine, but not shining as brightly as usual, and it had Becca tipping her head slightly as she looked the woman over, mild concern settling over her features.

She tried to think of what she did with her sisters, when one of them had been having a bad day. Hair braiding and bad romance movies and hot chocolate, but those all felt so far away Becca wondered if they had ever been real. If the world had ever been anything different than it was now, or if it was just something they’d all made up, to give themselves something to hope for in the future. But she brushed that thought aside. There was something, she realized, and she smiled at Andee once more, sending another thought into the woman’s head.] You know...I found some nail polish at the hub the other day. Haven’t used it yet.

#andee #ugh i've missed these two <3 #giant gif is giant

lake-valentine

[It always freaks him out, like, just a little bit, sort of, when people talk inside his head. He should be used to it by now, what with River and all, but like, it’s different because, it’s weird enough getting used to a voice inside your head that isn’t your own, but like, when you do get you to it, you sort of get used to it like, one at a time. He’s used to River’s voice, because he’s come to expect it. But anyone else, it comes as a weird, kind of startling surprise.

He sees the drawing before she scrambles to hide it from him, and it’s good, but she seems embarrassed. She’s smaller than him, and like, pretty young, actually, and he feels like he should definitely be the one apologizing.]

No, uh, no, it’s okay. Don’t worry. [He opens his arms, looking down at himself and giving her a grin.] See? Unscathed! But uh, that was a good drawing. People’s faces and stuff are hard. I can’t really draw. I’m okay at like, animated type things, because I practiced a lot for a while because I freaking love comic books, but I’m not actually GOOD. Just okay. I wish I was that good. I don’t really have the patience for it much though.

rebecca-richman

[It isn’t until the stranger speaks that Becca can even bring herself to peer shyly up at him, and while he’s significantly taller than her (as is just about everybody), his apparent youth takes her by surprise. He’s older than her -- but not by as much as most of the people here. And he has a friendly face, the kind that feels somehow much more suited to a smile than a frown. And -- he’s cute. Not like Trig, but in the way that she sometimes thought her older siblings’ friends were cute, so she would hide in her room whenever they were around.

But she can’t hide now, because he’s talking to her, and in spite of her embarrassment a small smile tugs at her lips at the way he reassures her he’s okay. Though it promptly falls when he brings up the picture. Becca can feel her cheeks going a light shade of pink, but still his words are colored with kindness, and it occurs to her that maybe he doesn’t realize why she’d been drawing one particular boy in the first place.

She feels even more confident in that fact when he starts talking about comic books, and again the tiny grin pulls at the corners of her mouth. He has a liveliness to him, a sort of energy that feels infectious. She shrugs shyly, and dares to speak into his head once again.] Thanks. I’ve never tried to draw a comic book before. [But now she kind of wants to, and her smile widens just a touch.] Maybe I’ll do that next.

#lake

[Becca tried her best to pay attention in her classes. Really, she did. Because she knew they mattered. Because they made her feel normal, like maybe when she walked out of the classroom she’d be able to continue all the way back home. Not home to Calyset, but to her real home. To her mom and dad and all of her siblings.

Sometimes, though, normal was boring. Especially when it was a science class she was sitting through, and especially when there were more interesting things attracting her attention. Namely, the very smart, very cute boy a couple of rows away from her raising his hand at just about every question. Becca really couldn’t be blamed for failing to follow most of the lesson, or for the fact that she found herself trying to sketch his eyes while she pretended to take notes.

It certainly made the time pass by much more quickly, because suddenly the eyes she was peeking at were no longer where they used to be and -- oh. Oh. Class was over. Quickly she shoved her drawing into her book and slammed it shut before anyone could see what she’d been up to, making her way out the door around the corner and -- smack into another body. She let out a small squeak as she bounced backward, her book hitting the ground with a loud thud and her drawing slipping out of it. Eyes wide, Becca made a wild reach for it and hid it once more in the book before she found it in herself to project a soft, timid “Sorry,” into the mind of the person she’d just hit.]

#OPEN #COME LOVE ME #COME EMBARRASS BECCA #it's totally not trig she was drawing btw #nooope #col22starter

chance-caellach:

[Chance is unused to feeling helpful. Wyatt’s house had a chore wheel, as colorful as everything else in the house, something that seemed like it should have been cheerful but was someone full of menace instead, because it was Wyatt’s. And he had done his chores, and often chores other than his chores when the other boys made him and he couldn’t fight back, and he had done it with a silent seething resentment the entire time.

There were no “good jobs” as Wyatt’s, there was no praise. There was only punishment, if you didn’t do what you were supposed to. The only person who was ever told “thank you” was Wyatt.

His father was much the same, although different. Chance did what he was supposed to, when he was supposed to. It wasn’t as if he was choosing to help, because that implied that he could have chosen differently. He did what he had to, he did what he must.

He hunted, he set traps, he tended Prosper’s wounds. He ran far, far away when he was told to.

But now he had chosen to help, and it was a choice because he could have easily done the opposite. He had gone out of his way to be kind, when there was nothing he could get out of it except for, maybe, the possibility of feeling good when all was said and done.

(Sometimes, he thinks about feeling useful. He thinks about the pull of thread through skin, the way it had healed into jagged scars at first but then into neat, invisible lines. He had had plenty of practice. He thinks about, sometimes, asking to help here, clever fingers that don’t shake or falter anymore. A stomach of steel that doesn’t vomit, anymore. But he’s afraid that they would just say no, so he doesn’t.)

But a small bird body is balancing in the palm of his hand, climbing upwards and reaching until she grabs her errant drawing, and her voice is echoing through her head in her delight.

It’s enough to almost make him drop her in surprise, unused to the sound of anyone’s voice in his head but Alex’s, ready to hiss and seethe at anyone else who might intrude. And though she wobbles, he rights himself soon afterwards with a verbal — ] Sorry! [ — and gently starts to ease her to the ground, more careful now that he’s faltered once.

When her feet are once more on the ground, he rubs his hand on his pants, the back of his neck. He hadn’t dropped her, but he still feels as though he messed up. He had offered to help.] Sorry. [He says again.] I didn’t expect the — [he trails off, fingers wagging vaguely somewhere around his temple. And then he realizes how incriminating he sounds, clears his throat, and tries again. She’s small, and he doesn’t have to be afraid. Or angry.] I don’t — it’s okay. I was just — surprised.

[The boy who holds her up is strong and sturdy, and Becca wishes she could be like that, too. Wishes she could lift herself up to the highest branches. Maybe she would just stay there, if she could. Turn into a bird and fly away to wherever the rest of her family is. But that would mean leaving Toby, unless she could take him with her. If she could turn herself into a bird, surely she could do the same for her big brother.

For now, though, she requires the kindness of others to lift her up, and she’s always surprised when she receives it from anyone other than her big brother. Because she has nothing to offer in return. Because all she can do is scare away the people who try to help her.

The boy’s grip falters, and for a split second Becca is certain she’s going to fall. Desperate hands reach for the tree trunk, sending her drawing floating down to the ground. She opens her mouth to let out a squeak of surprise, but no sound comes out, and a moment later he has straightened back up. Wide, startled eyes look down at him, her mind full of apologies she cannot bring herself to utter. It’s all she can do to bite her lip and try not to do anything else that’s stupid as he lowers her gently to the ground.

She’s not ready for his apology, not when it was her fault his grip had faltered in the first place, and if anything it only makes her feel worse. Now he feels responsible, when all he’d wanted to do was to help her, and her guilt only worsens when he explains himself. Her eyes drop to the ground, but then --

‘It’s okay.’

Her head jerks back up, eyes wide with surprise, and she shakes her head. The boy is big, but he is kind, at least he has been so far, and that’s enough for her to dare to send a single, quiet word into his mind once again.] Sorry. [She bites her lip, reaches down for her drawing and smooths out some of the wrinkles before she offers him a small smile. Thank you, she wants to say, but she can’t quite bring herself to project even another word into his head so she offers her drawing to him instead.]

#chance #1000 years later #pls love me

colony22graphics

rebecca-richman

colony22graphics:

Someone holds me safe and warm Horses prance through a silver storm Figures dancing gracefully Across my memory Far away, long ago Glowing dim as an ember Things my heart used to know Once upon a December

#photos #UMMMM #THIS IS SO LOVELY AND PERFECT?!?!?!!?#CRYING ABOUT IT #TRUE U ARE PERF

rebecca-richman

Step by Step || Andee & Becca

rebecca-richman

andreya-roche:

The nickname floated over the top of the conversation like an inconsequential breeze on a blistering hot day, and Andreya knew immediately something was deeply wrong. The bothersome look on Rebecca’s face had her mind careening with worry, but she did nothing to show it, providing an anchor for the girl as they proceeded outside the walls of Colony 22. Andee fell into stride, finding herself comfortable with ignoring her own concerns for the sake of catering to Becca’s. It was what she had grown used to, even grown to enjoy, and she kept her arm securely around her shoulders until they were at far enough a distance that any sort of danger would have to come with a warning first.

It was desolate out here, the sight dragging down Andee’s spirits for a moment. Barren like the surface of the moon, life struggling to hold on. She swallowed, looking down at Becca with a strong, reassuring smile. “Come on. We’ll have fun. I did this all the time with my clan; it’s like a scavenger hunt. Look for anything with color - greens, reds, yellows. That usually means it’s edible.”

There were also Echo chips to consider, but she didn’t want to overfill Becca’s plate. One step at a time. Give her a goal, something to focus on - and maybe she would be able to see the tension slip from her shoulders. She could only hope for now.

They ventured into a patch of dried grass, the ground not totally crackled with heat and drought. Andreya scanned the ground with precise vision, occasionally glancing up to see if a tree line was in sight. She checked in on her PDD - they weren’t too far from the Colony. Best not to wander without a map.

“Look,” she whispered with a breath of excitement, bending at the knees and hips to crouch by a small bundle of color that was poking out through a thick brush of prickles. She reached a hand in, ignoring the tiny cat scratches the thorns left behind and plucking the little bulbs from their stems, careful not to harm the branches or uproot the plant. More would grow in their place, and Andreya held out a palm full of berries to Rebecca, gleaming like marbles. “Always look for color differences in berries. Pale can mean poison,” she instructed softly, taking a berry and popping it into her mouth. “The redder the better.”

She chuckled, putting a finger to her lips. “Shh. Have one. They’re delicious.” A little tart, perhaps, but they cracked like a balloon between her teeth and gushed sweet nectar onto her tongue. She didn’t even mind the seeds that were getting stuck between her gums.

Collecting the berries in a small satchel, she put the pouch in her bag and stood up. Her eyes fell to Becca again, a touch of sadness to her otherwise kind smile. God, she looked like Isla. Andee nipped her chin with her fingers. “Feeling any better, sweetheart?”

Outside the walls of the Colony, it was almost as if the place didn’t exist. It was nothing more than a hopeful dream. A barricade, a fortress, a sanctuary created in Becca’s imagination, and now that she was awake it evaporated into wisps of smoke. Like it was never there, just an imagined oasis in a desert she was never going to escape. Only once the illusion was gone, the world was even worse than she remembered. Empty and desolate, and it seemed pointless to even be out here. To think there was going to be anything worthwhile in this rubble, anything more than shattered remains of the world that used to be. The world she longed to have back more than anything, but the Colony was likely the closest she would ever get.

If it even existed, still. If she hadn’t just made it up, and it was only the absence of her older brother that told her it had to be real. Because Toby would never leave her alone out here, and Becca would never be able to survive without him. Alone.

Except -- she wasn’t alone. Not completely, and Andee’s reassuring smile reminded her of the fact. It was hard to believe that anything about this could be fun, but Becca managed a feeble nod all the same. She had always been good at pretending, good at make believe. But it was so much more difficult to forget reality when it was as scary as it had become. When every step took her farther from safety, farther from Toby.

They made their way to a patch of grass, less dried and cracked than any they had passed so far, and Becca tried to concentrate on Andee’s instructions. As it was, all she seemed able to do was trail along beside the woman and try not to start crying. But her brows quirked slightly in interest when Andee crouched down, pulling something from the ground, and Becca knelt down beside her. The woman produced a handful of bright red berries, and in spite of herself the smallest ghost of a smile tugged at Rebecca’s lips.

It was with a small amount of trepidation that she reached out and took a berry from Andee’s hand eyeing it carefully for a couple of seconds. But Andee was kind, and Andee was smart, and Andee was capable. And she’d just eaten one herself, even, so after a moment’s pause Becca popped one in her mouth, small smile widening just a touch as sweet, tart juice exploded over her tongue. Then she watched as Andee scooped the rest into a small satchel, wishing very much that she had something of her own to contribute.

But all she could do was follow Andee to her feet and give the woman a slightly bigger smile as she nipped her chin. She nodded in answer. And it was true; she was feeling a little better, enough so that she could bring herself to send a soft question into Andee’s head. “How did you learn that? About the berries?”

#andee #step by step

adrian-vaughn:

[Off all the chores and duties assigned in the Colony, janitorial had to be one of the least exciting activities. That and maybe grounds keeping - thought at least it allowed for some people to get some fresh air and maybe interact with the horses at the stables. Janitorial simply meant a lot of time pushing around a cleaning cart, elbow grease and a lot of scrubbing. Looking at her fellow chore-mates that morning, Adrian knew most of them were less than enthused by the thought of scrubbing toilets and dusting all day. Really some people in the dorms could be down right filthy.

But unlike most Adrian could still find something positive about cleaning. Yes scrubbing toilets and unclogging shower drains practically made her turn a faint shade of green. There nothing more disgusting than wet hair balls. But there was something almost soothing about mopping. The swift movements up and down the hallway, punctuated by a quick rinse and drain of the mop then back to the almost sweeping like motions across the smooth hallway floor.

Finishing off another section of floor, Adrian was just about to place a bright yellow plastic triangle warning of the wet floor when she heard someone approaching at speed but before she could get the words out they had already tracked mud onto her freshly - still wet - floor.]

“No wait! I just….mopped there…

[The one good thing about scavenging -- and not nearly enough to make up for the awfulness that was the chores -- was that she didn’t have to do it every day of the week. So now that the nightmare was over and she’d made it back to the Colony in one piece, Rebecca had the morning to herself. The only problem being that she wasn’t entirely sure what to do with herself, now she had it. It came as no surprise that the fifteen-year-old eventually found herself outside, wandering the grounds not with her sketchbook but with her imagination.

For as much as the bleak, deadened natural area that surrounded the Colony made her heart ache for what used to be, it also gave her hope. Hope that whatever beauty was still there might not be lost forever. It was much harder to maintain that outlook, though, when the outdoors seemed intent on rebelling against her. Today, for instance, when she tripped on a stray twig and found herself flat on her butt in a pile of dirt.

The back of her pants were covered in it, and all she could hope was that the dirt would wash out. ...And that it didn’t look like she’d had an accident. It was that thought that had her booking it back to the Colony, speedwalking through the halls and back to Calyset as quickly as possible. With most of the Colony still occupied with their chores, she hopefully wouldn’t run into anyone. It was for this reason that she was not paying as much attention as she should have been, and the warning came just a second too late.

Already Rebecca was slipping on the wet floor, landing on her butt for the second time that day and surely leaving behind a mess. Wide, worried eyes found the woman who’d just called out to her and it was all she could do to project a soft, timid voice into her mind and hope the action wouldn’t just make things worse.] ...Sorry.

#adrian #how have none of our charas met each other yet?#t r a g e d y

rebecca-richman

Knock Knock || Trig & Becca

rebecca-richman

trigbalker:

“Yeah, uh three. One older, two younger. We all got shoved into different houses so our schedules aren’t always the same. The youngest, Cookie, he’s uh in your um house actually.” Talking about his brothers it’s easier not to trip over his words. There’s still a little tripping but it’s not so bad. At least until it comes to the point where he’s admitting to looking at her wrist to see what house she was in. Is that creepy? She’s probably gonna think it’s creepy. Trig hadn’t meant to look, he was just sort of curious. After a beat too long trying to work out if he sounded creepy or not he thinks to tack on a question. “Do you um have siblings?”

He’s hoping she’s one of the lucky ones who have family with them. It’s a weird turnaround for him. Before he was the odd one out who had no family, now when nearly everyone has lost their family he’s still the odd one out having found his instead of lost them. Not that he didn’t lose people, their missing three brothers are still felt as keenly as if Trig had considered them brothers all those years living together in the home. There’s no time to dwell on thoughts of his own strange luck, not when he’s actually trying to have a conversation. Another weird turnabout for him.

Trig finds his own lips curling up in grin when she smiles at him. There’s a nagging worry in the back of his mind that maybe she’s trying not to laugh at his nickname but he’s distracted from dwelling on it by just how pretty Becca is. A thought that has his smile dropping along with his eyes, he’s back to looking at that interesting spot on the floor.

Cool…

His eyes shoot back up to her face in surprise. He hadn’t expected cool. Not too many people would think being nicknamed after Trigonometry was cool. It’s likely she doesn’t really think it’s cool. More like she’s just being nice. That makes more sense to Trig, he’s already decided she’s nice this is just more proof.

It’s not a big leap to assume he’d wanna be a scientist, especially if you have a science class with him. Maybe that’s the class he’s got with Becca. He makes a mental note to look next time before answering her question. “Yeah, I uh wanted to study molecular biology. Biology has always been my favourite.” Trig’s aware of how nerdy he sounds, something he’s pretty much always aware of. It doesn’t bother him much, it’s who he is, always been. Plus it’s hard to get too worked up over something that helped keep him and his brothers alive. He knows his knowledge helped a lot in that, even if it wasn’t always enough. And he likes being nerdy.

It’s the awkward shyness he’s not so fond of. The two might go together, he’s not really sure since he’s never really been around anyone else who was into maths and science like he was. But he’s always hoped that maybe he might get over it, he did, to a point, with his brothers. That’s not helping him figure out how to talk to Becca though. Again he’s asking a question a little too long after answering hers, but he’s curious. “Did you um wanna be an artist?”

Rebecca’s eyebrows rise with interest when he tells her about his siblings. All three of them. He has three brothers, and they are all here with him, and Rebecca can’t help feeling a small pang of jealousy. Unfair of her, she knows, when she’s far luckier than most just to have one family member here with her. But each of her missing siblings, both her parents – their absence leaves a gaping hole in her chest she doesn’t think will ever be fully healed. She isn’t sure she wants it to be, because she doesn’t ever want to let any of them go; she is all that remains of them, she and Toby and the memories they share.

But he tells her about one of his brothers and Becca smiles, a spark of recognition glimmering in her eyes at the name he gives her. Cookie. A face, slightly younger than her own, pops into the back of her mind. He’s quiet, like her, but a kind, gentle presence. “I think I know him,” she tells him Trig his head with a nod. “He seems nice.” Half the reason for the smile on her face, and the other half because Trig had noticed what house she was in. Which meant he’d cared enough to look, though why that made her stomach feel funny she didn’t know. It was stupid, anyways; probably he just didn’t want her to feel bad after she’d admitted to creeping on him in their PDD message. Something she didn’t want to think about, so she was grateful for his question.

Almost grateful, at least, because it pulled her thoughts in another unwelcome direction. She had siblings. She has sibling. Somewhere in the back of her mind she wonders if Trig, too, is left with fewer siblings than he started off with; if he feels that same gaping loss she does even though he’s fortunate to have so much of his family with him. But she does her best not to let her smile falter as she nods. “I had five. They were all older than me. Now it’s just Toby and me -- he’s a doctor, do you know him?” Most people seem to know her brother, at least as far as Becca can tell, though part of her can’t help thinking it might not be so bad if Trig doesn’t know Toby. Of course – they would probably like each other, scientifically-minded as they both are.

Speaking of which, she isn’t surprised to hear he wanted to study biology. It suits him, somehow, though Becca would hardly call herself qualified to make such a statement. What does surprise her is his use of the past tense. “Wanted to?” She asks in his head, surprised confusion etched across her face. “Why can’t you? Toby’s still a doctor, even though he was just starting his residency.” And maybe they were different things, but Trig’s dream didn’t seem as far off as some others might have been. “And there’s labs and researches and stuff here, right? The old people are gonna need someone younger to learn how to do everything, aren’t they?” And there he went with the past tense again, but this time Becca just answered his question with a light shrug. “Maybe. Or a writer. Maybe both. I don’t know, I hadn’t really thought about it all that much. Thought I’d have more time…”

She trails off before she can think too much on all the other things she was supposed to have time for – she and Trig both, robbed of the lives they were supposed to lead. Her gaze cast around the room for anything better to talk about, and then --

"Do you um....wanna sit?" She asked him abruptly, nodding toward one of the couches. If they were going to keep chatting it seemed a bit odd to just do it in the middle of the common room. Then again -- it occurred to her that maybe he didn't want to keep chatting. Maybe he was just asking her questions to be polite. Pretending to be interested, and not weirded out that they were having a conversation in which she only projected her voice into his head. Panicked, she bit her lip and looked down at the ground before she tacked on quickly, "Or um -- I mean, I can just -- I can just go, if you had things to do or whatever, I don't wanna bug you or anything.” Of course she was bugging him. He was only even talking to her because she’d stolen his book, and silently she started weighing the pros and cons of staying where she was and making a run for the door.

#trig #knock knock

Do you think someone is thinking about you right now? Who?

Um...no? Unless Toby’s worrying about me, maybe.