she stands in the door opening to the engine room, leaning against the doorpost, eyes fixed on the person inside who is completely focused on his work. her eyes take in the build of him, the mess of dark hair on his head. there’s a familiarity to him, to the shape of him, especially to that mess of black hair streaked with oil grease and dust, but the body is so different from what she remembers. last she saw him like this, he was but a teenager, and they were both many years more innocent. he’s come a long way from the lanky boy he used to be, for sure.
she presumes she came a long way as well, but has no way to judge the difference, as she hardly remembers the girl she used to be. here before, though, is the one person who will remember that girl more clearly than anyone else; who knew that girl more deeply than anyone else.
he’s yet to realise she’s there, something that hasn’t changed since he was younger, and she can’t help smiling at the familiarity of it - at the knowledge that despite how much their bodies and minds may have changed, some things will always remain the same. like the way she rests her head against the door frame as she takes him in, and the way her voice is softer than silk when she eventually speaks up.
“why, mister lau, are you still at work? it’s way past time for dinner,” she says, watches the way the sudden sound of her voice startles him so much he straightens so quickly he hits his head against the metal bar above him. in another life he would have stumbled back down, fallen amidst his tools. in the present one, he smoothly moves out from underneath it all and turns to her while straightening, only bringing up a hand when they’re facing each other.
she smiles at him, tentatively but warm, and lifts a hand to give him a halfhearted little wave. the sight of him both takes her breath away as fills her lungs with desperately needed air, while at the same time she is left with a gaping hole of insecurity inside of her chest that he might not be happy to see her despite their conversation from way back suggesting the opposite.
it’s been a day and a half since the zephyrian has come aboard serenity, a day and a half since jaewon was instructed to not allow him off the ship, to not allow him contact with the outside world, and an entire day and a half filled with havoc and noise and arguments every chance the young prince gets to corner him in one room or another. jaewon understands that endymion is anxious about his people, frustrated about his situation, and furious at his sudden lack of authority or agency, but he’s been captain too long, powerful and dauntless, a mountain in the sea of the verse, a lighthouse in the storm of politics, to care about what someone else wants from him, to give a shit about what someone else thinks is best. no matter how much endymion wants to fight him on it, he’ll only have as much of a chance at changing jaewon’s mind as anyone else has ever had before; slim to none.
and as evidence of this fact, jaewon wakes bright and early the morning they are set to land on the nearest planet they can still reach, serenity’s gumption running low, her energy spent, her light dimming, and decides enough is enough and it’s time endymion understands that. the captain dresses and stretches and heads up to the bridge to resume control of his bird, but not before latching and locking the door that leads down into the prince’s bunk, overriding the security system on the outside of his chambers to ensure that the annoying little twat remains on board throughout their entire stay planetside. he won’t have to worry about the kid slipping out and running off now.
landing the ship is easy enough, gathering up his gear and wages, his boots laced appropriately, his coat donned securely, his eyes sharp and shimmering with barely held rage, it’s all muscle-memory and second nature to him now after so many years a captain and so many months alone. he has his list of items needed for the ship and his list of items needed for the medbay both tucked into pockets, his gun in its holster, his sword strapped across his back; he barely hears endymion’s angry curses as he passes the living quarters on his path down to the cargo bay, pulling the levy to open the door before spotting henry incoming.
“are you heading out with me?” it feels like a memory to him, some illusion of history replaying before his eyes, him and henry stepping out of serenity together, exploring outwards to the world beyond, focused and determined, understanding what they need and what they cannot have, willing to put their time and effort into this rickety old ship more than any other crew might be ready to give. it’s been a very long time since henry went hunting with him like this, a long time since they were in each other’s spaces this way, and jaewon won’t say he misses it, wouldn’t ever admit to weakness like that, but he has been on his own for too long now perhaps. his thoughts are always so loud these days.
HC: neo’s journal was not the last of his possessions henry slept on. it’s come to a point where, when neo’s looking for something of his, he checks under the napping engineer first before going anywhere else. when confronted, henry continues to claim he does not do this on purpose.
—> HEADCANON: ACCEPTED
ooc;; Neo low-key doesn’t mind having to reach under Henry’s ass half the time, but he would 100% claim that it’s the bane of his existence. A constant eyebrow twitch is present every time this happens.
🍸+ would you disarm that electric shock robot if i asked nicely? this is me asking nicely, by the way.
Send 🍸 for a drunk answer_Still Accepting!
Sid lifts his head, completely confused by Henry’s request. “What?” It took some time before the words sunk in and he laughs about it. “The one you built to zap me?” There’s a whole irony going on and Sid can’t help but be amused by it. Still, he’s in good spirits and he admits, he had it coming. Scoffing, he rises while rolling up his sleeves. “Bring it!”
💭 I don’t know if I trust him yet. I want to. I want to believe in his words, his promises of freedom. Not a lot of people look at us like we’re real. And no one certainly talks about rebellion. We’re just scenery, or cogs in a machine. I’m afraid in some ways, but he doesn’t look at any of us like the estate masters do. It’s not a cold look, not dismissive, or mean... he has kind eyes. And I can trust that.💭 They’re not gonna’ make it without a distraction. I have to tell him, but there’s no time.
Present: Serenity
💭 Just ACCEPT my admiration. Grunt, nod, or-- something.
💭 I should tell him I messed up on repairs. The hymn on the back of my shoulder says a lot about lying-- what kind of person would I be if I lied to my superior? A hypocrite-- a sinner... It’s not like he’ll kill me. I saved his life once, so that has to cancel out something, right? Oh, gods-- he’s looking at me. He knows. Sol, don’t move, don’t blink, don’t even breathe.
💭 I can’t believe he called me Sam and thought that was my real name.
HC: whenever casta and henry come across each other in the hallways henry gives him this certain type of look then proceeds to nod and pass him by. casta has yet to figure out this is because henry still has no idea what his name is.
Accepted!
While Casta at least knows Henry’s name and what he does, he knows next to nothing else about him and is slightly curious of these exchanges, but too embarrassed to ask because he simply nods right back as if he also knows.
AU: modern; lazy, neet xerxes being roommates with still an engineer henryplaying: whatever whatever whatever— neru & z’5 feat. kagamine rin & kagamine len
he could honestly admit that he was one hell of a lazy ass. people would call him loser, scorn him for rotting away inside the confines of his room, but he could care less. he had accepted that he just did not want to bother with anything troublesome, it was far too stressful and he surely didn’t enjoy any sort of expectation of being ‘a better person in society’.
he decided to step out of his room, though, after much reluctance. he still needed to eat to survive, even if his diet nowadays included eating instant noodles for lunch and dinner. whatever, as long as he could live another day to do absolutely nothing ( because somehow, death’s always been that sort of concept that’s much too terrifying—even to him ). he sighed, ah life, why did it have to be so damned troublesome?
heading towards the kitchen, he spotted his roommate cooking up his own cup of instant noodles. with ease, he entered and took his own cup and went to the dispenser to fill the cup he readied with hot water. once satisfied with the amount and consistency of the noodles, he started to devour his meal with the disposable fork that came with it. he could vaguely hear henry—his roommate—talk, but he decided that henry could wait once he was finished.
swallowing the last bit of the cup’s contents, he gave out a satisfied exhale. the large amount of instant noodles he had taken in over the course of his life may get him a ticket to the hospital, but it was good enought ot be worth it. he’s also aware that henry’s practically jabbing him now because he was ignoring him. grunting, he finally looked at the other and gave his attention. he noted the bright grin that took place on henry’s face—and also the fact that henry’s going on with one of those gibberish rambles about whatever he’s engineering now. henry definitely had a bright future ahead of him in comparison to him.
“your still going to do whatever?” henry asked once he’s satisfied talking. and he could only snort.
of course, he’ll always just do whatever. because this carefree lifestyle is the only one he’d want to invest in—no matter what tiny voice in his mind will whisper about the chances of doing something better and more ‘fun’ if he gave it up.
the call comes inconspicuously, a low hum in the relative quiet of his ship, the message entering the mainframe the same way most all of them do, to be gauged and assessed first by the piloting station, the bridge, before rerouted down to its intended recipient, in this case being yang jaewon. kinam’s voice carries through his communicator as he tells the captain there is a hail coming through for him, which he accepts despite the day being late, the evening hours setting in, his coat being somewhere on the bed, boots parked by his bedroom door.
when the incoming location arrives on his screen, it’s from zephyr, and there’s very few people on that planet at the moment who call him through these means; it must be vera, which is why he stands up straight, readjusts his shirt, perks to attention. they talk weekly, but she’s early, so he assumes it’s something important.
when the image finally cuts through however, jaewon is greeted by the dark brown eyes of saito kyoji, vera’s first mate of over ten years, another piece of the puzzle that had helped raise and shape jaewon into who he is today. of all the brigands and renegades who came and went from the ship under vera’s command, kyoji had always been the one man who could manage to keep up with her, the one man sturdy enough to weather through her storms, the one man who knew more about her than jaewon did himself.
“saito,” jaewon breathes, addressing him politely by his last name.
“yang,” the older man responds, his eyes warming, the creases in his skin forming pronounced there. he wears specs of grey in his hair now, a salt and pepper look that jaewon is not surprised still looks good on him. “it’s good to see you, you’re looking well.”
there’s always been a calming aura laced through kyoji’s presence, the man immobile, immutable, unphased despite whatever racket or turmoil raged around him— something jaewon has always envied and wished to emulate more than anything else. whereas vera is steel and hurricane, kyoji is earth and roots, the way mountains reach deep into planetary cores, every word from his lips a measured, calculated response, seemingly never confused or unsure about anything, the whole universe laid out for him and he’d barely bat an eye. he’d taught jaewon how to fight, knives and long-blades, how to shoot, how to stand your ground against impossible, insurmountable odds, how to stop running from the explosions ( as he’d done in his childhood ) and instead run towards them.
jaewon nods to the compliment, not really knowing what to say to that, how to properly respond; he’s never been any good with praise but thankfully kyoji is used to that by now and doesn’t take offense. “i didn’t know you were going to be on zephyr,” he tells his mentor, gold eyes flickering to the small spaces behind him, whatever he can see of the apartment he’s in— it doesn’t look like vera’s place, which is strange since whenever anyone visits, vera always insists they stay with her.
kyoji inhales deeply, something in his eyes darkening, sobering. “i didn’t know i was going to be, either. until yesterday.”
jaewon blinks a few times, an unsettling worry boiling up inside his system. something is wrong. something is not the same. “what’s happened?”
the older man hesitates, blinking, pausing, a pain leaking over his face for only a split second, not something jaewon is used to seeing, not something he’s used to registering when looking at his longest friend, the delay lasting only a few seconds yet somehow spanning out across a thousand years. his heart drops, his breathing holds, the whole universe around him mutes itself, preparing for the onslaught of what he knows is about to be something terrible, something horrific. kyoji never falters, never struggles, so what’s the one thing that could make him do so? jaewon almost doesn’t want to hear it, almost wants to rescind his question, go back to small talk, go back to last week when he and vera had argued, when he and vera had laughed, had confessed to caring too much about the other, back to when she was fine, she was alright, she was on the screen right in front of him.
“vera called me last night, sent me some messages to pass along to you and henry. i thought it was strange so i tried hailing her back but she wouldn’t answer. you know angel isn’t that far away from zephyr, so i just hopped on down here this morning and…” his eyes cut away from jaewon, staring past his screen, beyond it, beyond time. “she passed, rat. sometime in the night. apparently she was very sick, had been for a long while, probably before she even left her ship to you, probably why she left her ship to you. didn’t tell any of us, so…” his voice trails off for a moment, eyes hollow, voice grating but still steady, the baritone heavy like a stone sinking to the bottom of the ocean.
and that’s how jaewon feels. he can remember the first time he’d ever seen a massive collection of water, remember the first time he’d ever almost drown in one, the suffocation, the building pressure, the weight of the entire planet seemingly enclosing around every line and crevice of his body, the way there was nothing to hold onto, nothing to grab, nothing to reach, no way out. this is reality and there’s no way out. he can remember the way the surface looked from underneath it, like life slipping away from him, moving further and further, despite how hard he fought, despite how fast he tried to move, his limbs burdened by their own measure, slow and dumb, lungs aching, lips unsure whether to gasp or stay shut.
it’s unthinkable to imagine, but somehow the words leave kyoji’s lips and jaewon is already seeing it in his mind, vera blackhound, all ice and tempests, all lightning and power, devoid of movement, devoid of breath, heart gone silent, eyes closed. he can see the way the air gathers around her softly, dust particles themselves careful not to infringe too much into her space, the moonlight gliding in from her window, passing by, passing into morning while she lays still, stationary, stagnant. beyond that, he imagines her decaying, skin collapsing in on itself, growing grey and dry, growing brittle, her hair thinning.
somehow he’d never pictured this before, not in his entire fourteen years of knowing her, of talking to her. despite the lives they lived, the dangers they wrapped around themselves like blankets to hold, to sleep in, despite her waning body, age chipping away at her the same way it chips at marble statues, he’d never thought she could die. silly of him of course, because with as close as he’s ridden with death, he ought to expect it with everyone, he ought to know death hungers for everyone’s flesh, but not her— not the woman with more emotions kept in a single word than most people feel their entire lives, not the woman who’d survived love lost, family broken, who’d demanded the respect of men much larger than her, stronger than her, meaner than her.
illaia. the woman who’d given him everything.
he stands stock-still, so untouched for a moment he wonders if his heart is still beating— he knows his lungs aren’t working, his eyes have gone grey, his throat has closed. he can’t speak, can’t react; any expression given would be a catastrophe he’s unsure whether he would be able to hold back, the dam of his emotions cracking, threatening to overspill. he wants to think this is a prank, this isn’t real, this isn’t happening, that she wouldn’t just die like that without saying anything to him first, she wouldn’t just leave without one last soliloquy about how to take care of the ship better.
but then, much like jaewon, she’d always hated goodbyes.
kyoji continues, despite the whole universe grinding to a halt. “i’ve already talked to the other crew, they’re on their way to vallura for the wake. i’ll be leaving zephyr with her soon also. i’m forwarding you the messages she’d wanted me to give to you and henry, i trust you’ll pass along the engineer’s to him. and tell him i—”
“to valluria?” the words breech through jaewon’s lips out of sheer surprise, his registering of the words almost too late, his brain still somewhere at the bottom of an ocean. “vera was from ariel, why would she…?”
his question tapers off into the white-noise of his mind, the strange sort of non-silence that floods through him. kyoji’s eyes glance downwards for a moment, his own emotions verging on breakage as well, his voice coming through the screen as little more than a whisper. “you know, she’d always called me brother. and you son. we’re the closest to her, and no matter how far and hard we try to run from it, we’re still both vallurian. i think she always wished she was too.”
finally jaewon blinks, lowers his head, stares at the floor by his feet, the roots of him upended, his equilibrium capsized. she’d never once judged him for his background, had always coated him with pride, always allowed him to be confident in himself, even in the scars and damage that world left him with, and having kyoji there alongside her had always reinforced that even more. the two of them are the reason why he has any self-reliance at all, any dignity associated with valluria that he carries with him through the verse. they are the reason he’s never been ashamed to admit his background.
“the wake will be held there, in three days. i’ve named you the vigilant for the jan’hazal.” jan’hazal, valluria’s customary, deep-desert burial ritual; a pain in the ass, but also an honor and one jaewon has to accept simply because he must. kyoji’s voice strengthens a bit, hardens. “you’ll be there. right?”
“i’ll be there.”
“i’ll send you the coordinates.”
and just like that the screen cuts out and jaewon is alone in the dimly lit room as though things are supposed to continue on like nothing had happened. like he ought to be normal now, the verse and all its planets start spinning again. like everything hasn’t just dismantled itself, come unwoven around his ankles, the pieces all falling away, crumbling. he stares for a long moment, long after the small five-note beep of the secondary message coming through, two personal missives and a set of coordinates.
he deals with the coordinates first, puts his boots on and takes the palm-sized stick of information up to the bridge, nothing in his gait reminiscent of thunder or hail, his usual stride muted as he steps past members of his crew, eyes fixated downwards for once, unable to meet any of their gazes, unable to communicate with any of them. he winds his way onto the cockpit, setting the stick down onto the console in front of where yihan is sitting. when he speaks, his tone is deliberate, subdued. “follow this please. we’re changing course.”
he steps over to the intercom, picking up the small, handheld object into his hands, inhales and exhales fully before turning it on to address the whole of serenity.
“this is your captain speaking. i know we’re currently on route to boros to pick up a job, but unfortunately, plans have changed and we need to make a pitstop on valluria. we’ll be there only a day and a night, before leaving in the morning. this is not job related, this is… something personal to me. the original owner of serenity, vera blackhound, has passed and i’ve been named her vigilant to the wake. i would suggest everyone remain onboard and be ready to leave in the morning after the ritual, but it’s your decision.” the lump burns in his throat but he’s got to get through this, he has to. “henry, if you would come meet me in the mess hall, i have something to give to you.”
