"Is anybody out there? Please, help!"
( life is strange // accepting )
communication. years and years had passed, but it seemed like monty was always back where he’d first started. just like those early days on the dropship, his primary goal was trying to create a way to communicate. this time, however, it was with the ground-- assuming there was anyone to communicate with. he couldn’t do as much as he used to, couldn’t work hours and hours without stop. his fingers would cramp, his skin would numb. the pain would creep further into his bones. but that never stopped him from doing as much as he could. especially now.
the five year mark had came and went and still earth was just a floating orb outside their windows. but was earth still worth risking themselves for if there was no one there to greet them? maybe. probably. monty couldn’t say. he’d been working close to two hours now, the all too familiar strain in his hand beginning to throb as he continued to work. hope. he had hope. and that kept him going. just another two minutes, he’d told himself about nine times already, never quite finding a good stopping place as numbing fingers played with dials and rearranged wires.
at first, the sound could have been a figment of his imagination -- it wouldn’t be the first -- but then steadily, it grew until monty could make out the words. his hands froze, eyes wide, immediately recognizing the voice on the other end ( six years? who cared. he’d know that voice anywhere ).
“ octavia?! ” he made a grab at the radio, wincing as pain shot up his arm, but he pushed through it. “ octavia, is that you?! ”
