Charlotte Williams

Torren House Interpreter and International Liaison NWRF Elite

[the-original-charley]

charlie-freakin-essex:

MARCH THIRTIETH || ricky & charlie & charlotte

D. D’MORNAY:

[[ Ricky’s withholding in a way Charlie doesn’t deserve. He shrinks when he’s hands on, when he wants even friendly touches or privately snatch a simple kiss. It’s shame, not of Charlie, never of Charlie, but of himself. It feels like some days, he’s simply ruining things. Making life more difficult for the man. Now, seeing Charlie turn so quiet, so desperate, it doesn’t matter that they have an audience

Don’t. Please.

That single word sends a sharp pain through his chest: he’s afraid. Charlie is scared and sad and Ethan is trapped. Ricky kneels at the man’s feet.

This isn’t his Charlie, not right now, but maybe he can help. Carefully, he tries to thread his fingers through one of his hands. He can’t think of him as Charlie, can’t think of him as Ethan either. ]]

Don’t worry, mon cher. [[ That feels safer. Mon cher. Mon cher. Mon cher. He’s already regretting every time he didn’t call him by a pet name, or wouldn’t hold his hand or wouldn’t kiss him. Is it too late? Has he lost him? ]]

I want to help. I—We. We want you to feel better, mon coeur.  [[ It slips out. Ricky holds his breath. Shit. It’s hopefully not too late to start using it, this hopefully won’t be the first and last time. ]] You can talk to us.

.

[[ Charlie’s attention catches on Ricky as he kneels in front of him, and there’s zero resistance as their fingers are intertwined. His smile returns, still a little vacant but not necessarily any less genuine.

Mon coeur. ‘My heart.’ Charlie doesn’t know French, but he understands this — for some reason. ]]

I know, [[ he replies quietly, free hand moving to settle against Ricky’s face, thumb barely dusting his cheekbone. The near-irrational need to reassure Ricky persists. He’s not oblivious to Charlotte’s presence, but doesn’t mind that she’s bearing witness to what should probably be a more private moment. He knows her, so he doesn’t mind. Except he doesn’t know her. ]]

I’m just confused. [[ ‘Just,’ like his whole reality doesn’t feel like it’s fraying around the edges. ]] I just- don’t really understand what’s going on.

[ Charlotte won’t deny the tender moments between them are sweet- and familiar. Though a strong part of her wants to tease them and look away, like the siblings have done to each other before, she doesn’t. Instead, she takes the seat on the bed next to Charlie- her head still nodding in agreement with Ricky’s reassurances. Right now, witnessing the tender moment feels like grasping a lifeline. The move is so wholly Ethan, and up until now, it’s been one of the only signs that Ethan was still in there at all, buried under his Charlie-delusion.

For a moment, she doesn’t know what to say. She only looks towards Ricky first, then back to her brother. There are reports that she’s read, whether she was supposed to or not, explicitly stating how dangerous it could be to rush someone through their delusion during a moment of lucidity. There were vids showing the consequences of doing so anyway. Horrifyingly cruel and traumatizing breakdowns that she won’t allow to happen to Charlie or Ethan.]

Let’s just try talking it out, huh? Even if it’s a jumbled up mess right now. [ She starts gently, placing a caring hand on his shoulder and giving it a light squeeze] Like Ricky said, we just want to help. And with the three of us.. [Charlotte lets the sentence drop.] We can’t put the puzzle together if we don’t have the pieces, right? [ The phrase isn’t hers. It’s something that their mother would say to them when they were kids, whenever one of them was having difficulty processing a particularly ‘big’ emotion or supposed crisis. She offers him a small, reassuring smile.] 

@diederick-dmornay @charlie-freakin-essex​

[the-original-charley]

rosastein​:

BASTARD GEOMETRY. rose + charlotte

tuesday. april 11th,  2163. outside delma house.

[ Rosalind Stein is not unintelligent (no matter what her long-buried chemistry exams might say), though she’s starting to question the legitimacy of such a claim. A woman had directed her up the stairs and to the right, said “that’s where your house is,” and let her loose with her bag and her sketchbook. Still, Rose finds herself sighing in front of the wrong door, with the wrong symbol, in the wrong wing. The logical solution would be to look at the map available to colony members on her PDD. The implementation of this solution is lost somewhere between the fact that semi-regular system updates are keeping the map from loading, and an unhealthy dose of stubbornness that insists she doesn’t need a map anyway.

Rose is so incredibly lucky, she thinks, that she hadn’t been left to her own devices in the wilds of the earth for four and some years. Screw statistics, honestly, but there was at least an 87.69% chance she’d be dead. ]

…It’s a square, Rosalind. You went in a circle, in a square.

[It takes some effort for Charlotte to keep the laugh building in her throat from seeping out as she hears the other’s defeated words. She’s not laughing at the obvious newcomer- she just found the phrasing funny, and the frustrated confusion on her face all too relatable.] 

Don’t beat yourself up about it. [She starts with a casually pleasant smile as she approaches the other.] My first couple of days here, I swear these hallways moved. Can I help?

[margoterobbies]

JESSICA CHASTAIN Vanity Fair Oscar Party | (March 27, 2022)

[rob-pattinson]

JESSICA CHASTAIN 2022 | Getting ready for the 94th Academy Awards (March 27)

[the-original-charley]

teiloembry​:

precipice | teilo & charlotte  { ruina rex: the funeral}

Monday, April 10th Kaiser’s Wake, The Chapel

[He hears he approach, but he doesn’t quite register it until she’s speaking. And though he wouldn’t say it’s a startled moment, exactly, it’s one he has to sort of pull himself from, bring himself back to earth with a refreshed breath and a little shake of his head.] 

Hmm? Oh—[he looks to the portrait, then back to her with a smile, polite smile. Which is weirdly what a lot of this is. Polite. Just like that blonde woman had suggested—despite being in the same house, Teilo had yet to get her name or meet her; a very private young woman, apparently—it is oddly polite, to be in remembrance of a man like Kaiser. Not that Teilo knew him. He’d known of him, hardly anything more. 

‘It seems fair’ is a somewhat strange choice of words. Fair? To who? Compared to what?] No,  I didn’t know him. It is good though. Better than I would have done, anyway. Though I don’t really have my mother’s artistic genes, so I don’t know that I’d be a good critic, regardless. 

[Another muted smile.] What do you mean by fair? 

[She nods softly, unsurprised by his answer of ‘No, I didn’t know him’. Based on what she’s been hearing so far at the wake, no one really did. A part of her wonders whose fault that is? Is it the community who never took the time to get know one of their own? Or the individual who kept himself so isolated and walled up that no one could find a way in? But she won’t dwell on it. He’s gone. It hardly matters now. 

Charlotte turns back to the portrait with hum as she considers how to best explain herself.] Well, you know how-- and maybe you don’t. [She cuts herself off to clarify with a small shrug, small smile still plastered in place.] Maybe I’ve just been to too many of these-- But often there’s something with the displayed photo or portrait, that’s just.. [A small shake of her head as she tries to find a delicate way to phrase her thoughts.] inaccurate. A smile that they never wore, a sense of regality or kindness they never actually had. Some exaggeration of the person that they really were in life. 

[She takes a moment to again consider the portrait.] I only had a couple of conversations with him,  [Though ‘conversations’ seems too strong of a word.]  but this seems like a truer reflection. No embellishments. [Charlotte chuckles softly, though given the somber occasion, there’s no real humor behind the sound.] I’m pretty sure that is the look he gave me when we first met.  

[the-original-charley]

charlie-freakin-essex​:

MARCH THIRTIETH || ricky & charlie & charlotte

D. D’MORNAY​:

[[ Charlotte seems so small all of a sudden. Is she the younger sibling? It feels like she might be, the way she is looking to Ricky for help. Or maybe that’s what he’d do too, if his sister had lost herself, he wouldn’t know what to do either.

The apology is embarrassing: he should probably apologise. For everything. For getting attached to Charlie, for wanting to keep him all to himself. For ignoring the fact his delusion makes their relationship… complicated.

He shakes his head, looking back at Charlotte. Who’s looking at her shoes. Her wide eyes, asking if it’ll work. It makes him irrationally angry. They can’t fucking do this any longer.

‘I don’t want to break him any more.’ Ricky scowls, he knows Charlie not this Ethan, not her brother. He is afraid too, thinks that maybe he’s lost his chance, that Charlie might have disappeared but hearing someone else say it? It makes him want to be contrary. For Charlie’s sake. For all of them. ]] He’s not broken.  

Fuck—I’ll do it.

[[ Ricky opens the door. If he stops to think, he knows he’ll chicken out. Pull of the plaster or whatever the fuck Americans call them. Ricky steps back in, sees Charlie/Ethan sat on the bed, working his way through the plate of food. Slowly. Plodding along. ]] Shut the door. [[ He says back to Charlotte, switching to French. Only once the door is shut does he try.

Standing in front of Ethan, wringing his hands together and feeling so stupid, he tries. What has he got to lose but everything? So what if he has to restart, again? ]] Ethan?

[[ To say he was startled when the door opened again wouldn’t entirely be true, since Charlie turns his attention to it slowly and with an automatic but muted smile — one that brightens slightly when he notices it’s Ricky. Then it dims again when he sees the look on his face. Focused. Nervous? It’s hard to tell. He’s still trying to figure it out when-

‘Ethan?’

He blinks. Stares. That’s- why would Ricky call him that? That’s not-

Ethan.

Charlie’s attention drifts away, his eyes going glassy. He doesn’t know how to respond to that, which is weird, since the obvious response should be ‘that’s not my name.’ Because it’s not. It’s- Charlie. His name is Charlie. Why would the game — why would Ricky — call him anything other than his name? ]]

I, uh, [[ he starts slowly, distractedly, finally reacting after a too-long span of time sitting in stillness and silence. He barely frowns, shakes his head almost imperceptibly, still not looking at Ricky. ]] I’m not…

[[ ‘I’m not Ethan.’ He can’t bring himself to say it, even though it’s the obvious thing to say. ]]

​

You’ll do wha-- [ The answer comes before she finishes her sentence. Ricky, seemingly with all the gumption that she’d been lacking, opens the door and walks through before they could discuss a plan any further. Not that there’s much to discuss. It’s one of those ‘do or do not, there is no try’ situations-- and in a very unlike herself kind of way, Charlotte had balked instead of jumped. And Ricky knew they needed to jump.

Charlotte follows him into the room, still slightly annoyed at the lack of a real plan, but does as he asks and softly shuts the door behind her. 

‘Ethan?’

She doesn’t speak, only watches the scene before her. Watches as that confused look washes over her brother. For a moment, she thinks that he’s going to speak, and judging by the way his face twists, it doesn’t look like it’s going to be something encouraging. But he doesn’t complete the thought. He doesn’t outright shun or question the name. 

That’s encouraging enough for Charlotte. 

Slowly, she moves out from her place at the door, until she’s standing in front of where he sits on his bed. There’s still a good foot or so of distance between them, but it’s close enough for her to be able to see the look in his eye as she speaks. She can’t help the hope that fills her own.] You’re not.. who? [ She asks gently.] Ethan? Ethan Williams?

@diederick-dmornay​

[the-original-charley]

teiloembry​:

precipice | teilo & charlotte  { ruina rex: the funeral} 

Monday, April 10th Kaiser’s Wake, The Chapel Thread Status: Open

[The rain pounds at the roof of the chapel, echoing the heavy hearts and weighty silences in the air today. And Teilo stands, staring at the hand-sketched portrait of a man whom apparently no one really knew, a glass of red wine resting still and somewhat forgotten near his lips.

There’s meaning in this—in all of it—and though a part of him wants to inspect it inch by inch, he worries about what he’ll find. But one thing is for sure: today is the marker of change.]

.

.

[This isn’t the first funeral that Charlotte’s attended where she knew little more than the face and voice of the deceased. It had been the nature of her world before the falling. Agents, associates of varying levels pass and she’d do the more somber part of her job: She’d attend the service, pass on her condolences to the family (and those on behalf of her department or chain of command when needed), then she’d take her leave, often before refreshments were even laid out. 

That’s what made this time different- she’s still here. Still.. mingling. And not just because she’s avoiding having to walk back in the rain. She’s here, walking through the crowd, returning muted, polite smiles or heavy nods of acknowledgement. Charlotte knows she’s not exactly needed here- she’d only been here a little over a month, no one knew her well enough yet to need her.

But that’s what a community does, right? Especially one this small. Something happens, and the residents band together. New and old. And this is her community now. So she’s here.  

Slowly, hands empty save for the light jacket draped over her arm, she makes her way to the portrait of the man this wake is honoring, and stops next to another who seems frozen, suspended in thought. To not startle him, Charlotte takes a moment to size up the sketch before speaking.] 

It’s well done, hm? The portrait. [She clarifies, still looking straight ahead.] It seems fair. [Though that’s only an assumption on her part. Her head turns to finally glance at whom she’s speaking to, and offers him a reserved smile.] Did you know him well?

[the-original-charley]

diederick-dmornay​:

MARCH THIRTIETH || ricky & charlie & charlotte

[[ A sudden short, near hysterical laugh is stamped out  instantly. Not his wife, thank fuck. He slaps a hand over his mouth because he can’t explain that relief to Cha—Ethan, can’t explain that relief to Ethan’s sister. It’s not something he wants to get into. Even though he will, later, have so many questions for her.

‘What those bastards did to him—’ Ricky feels included in that sweeping statement, looking up at her he wonders if their parents were tall too. ]] I promise I’ve been trying to look after him. [[ Her opinion on him, he realises, matters more than anyone else’s. It’s like how Vivi would always eye out any girl he crushed on (even though, in hindsight, nothing would have come of them) or how Ricky would size up any guy interested in her. It’s just what siblings do.

Ricky settles a hand on the door handle to Charlie’s room. Or should he think Ethan’s? Charlie comes to mind first, even as this new name rolls around his head. ]] We could— You could try to call him that. Instead of Charlie. [[ There’s a tight pain in his chest, Ricky looking at the door, wondering if he’d already missed his last chance with Charlie? If he recognises Charlotte would that mean Charlie would be gone, and Ethan returning to himself? The panic is all consuming. Foot tapping erratically. He can’t stand out here any longer just as he can’t bear to look Charlotte in the eyes any more. ]]

[  ‘I promise I’ve been trying to look after him.’

For a good, long moment, she eyes him. Not suspiciously or with any malice-- just, enough. Enough to satisfy whatever it was in her brain that judged lie from truth. Until finally, she nods.] I believe you.

[ There was still that pang of guilt, for Charlotte to deal with, however. Ricky’s partly right in thinking that she includes him in her aggressive statement about the NWRF. At least, she did. Now though, she’s not so sure. While she believes there are real, genuine feelings there-- she can’t fully exclude him from those sentiments. Not until she knows how deeply his ties run.

Still.. that guilt gnaws at her.] Ricky.. I’m sorry. For.. [ She shrugs, opting for the abridged version of the list.] I was a bitch.

[ She, too, averts her gaze, choosing to inspect her shoes instead. The scuffed leather of her old boots telling a better story than this moment. Until Ricky’s suggestion.

Her eyes dart back to him, wide and a little surprised.] Do you.. Do you think that might work? What if-- [ She chews on her lip as the possible scenarios run through her head.]  I don’t want to break him any more.

[the-original-charley]

dot-speckter​:

the-original-charley​:

cloud-gazing // dot & charlotte

.

Well, I’ve been on the field probably two hours now. [Dot brushed a hand through her hair, she tried to do the math, a bit unsure considering how out of it she was after getting to the colony. Everything was a blur for a long time. God, it had been a while.] About four years? I think? [A shrug followed.] I tend to keep to myself. 

How are you enjoying it? [She never found much to do other than reading, not that there weren’t other things, they just paled in comparison. Sometimes she wished to leave and look for more books, just take off. Not that she ever would.]

.

[She nodded her head softly. Keeping to oneself seemed like a fairly easy thing to do here, despite the number of people that lived on this little rock. As long as you steered clear of the main hubs and hang outs, anyway.] Four years is a long time. [Had it always like a great, long chunk of time? Charlotte didn’t think so. Not before the Falling.] Do you just like it that much, or..? [She let the question drop, unable to find a way to say ‘no other options’ without sounding judgmental. It’s not the feeling that she’s going for.] 

I do, I think. [Another nod that held more confidence in her answer than her actual words did.] It’s a lot quieter here than back home. Though, [an edge of amusement coats her tone] whenever I thought about living ‘the island life’- I always pictured somewhere tropical, you know?

[the-original-charley]

rev-enoch-lynch​:

A LONELY FIGURE || enoch & charlotte

[[ Shaking his head at the old reference—he can’t say much because he does in fact get it—she continues. It’s a happy moment: the kind he’s in completely and will likely think about till he falls asleep. Such small acts of friendliness have more weight given the year he spent in isolation.

She starts on a tangent: one he happily follows with an amused smile. Forgetting she won’t see it, she’s cutting herself off despite his enjoyment. ]] No, please. I’m usually the one giving—literal—sermons to people. Good teachers think about the craft, I suppose.

Enoch finishes his cigarette, tapping the last bits of ash off before grinding it into the concrete, he drops it back into the carton, to properly dispose of it back in his room. He finds himself stifling a yawn. A good sign. ]] Promise you didn’t bore, excuse me. [[ He says with a small chuckle at his yawn. ]] Probably time I attempt to get some sleep before those damn alarms wake us up.

Been an absolute pleasure. [[ Enoch says with a smile, one she may not be able to see. ]] See you around, hopefully not because we can’t sleep again.

FIN

[the-original-charley]

diederick-dmornay​:

MARCH THIRTIETH || ricky & charlie & charlotte

[[ In one fell swoop, the breath is punched out of his lungs. ‘It’s Ethan’s birthday today.’ Ethan. Not Charlie. It’s his birthday. How old is he? Ricky can’t remember ever asking. That is not what he should be thinking of right now. ]]

Etan. [[ Ricky says quietly, accent sharpening the softer ‘th’ into a quiet ‘t’. He looks at the door, like he could see Charlie—no, Ethan, apparently—through it. There isn’t a single doubt in his mind that this is the truth. She brought him sandwiches, something he liked. She looks genuinely upset. ]]

Maybe. Maybe he saw the date. [[ How is he still talking? Ricky shouldn’t be talking so evenly when it feels like there’s a vice grip around his heart, like he’s about to vomit. His chest feels tight and he’s looking at Charlotte and terrified she… what if she’s Charlie’s wife or something? The thought makes him feel ill. Makes him feel dirty and wrong and— ]] How…

How do you know him? [[ His voice is quiet, meeting her own pleading gaze with an equally desperate one. ]]

[ Ricky, whether he means to or not, validates her own hopes with his offered theory. Her answering nod, however, is empty- completely void of any real emotion. Even if her brother had seen the date and it did trigger something.. It’d likely pass by tomorrow. He’ll go back to being the Charlie that everyone here, that Ricky, knew. The stranger wearing her brother’s face. 

‘How do you know him?’ 

All at once, before she can stop it, the emotion wells and collects in her eyes. Her head tilts first, then shakes lightly- but not in response to his question. She’s trying not to let the tears breech their dam; to squeeze her voice through her tightened throat. She’s not entirely successful at either. A couple of tears escape- though she bats them away- and her voice is barely more than a strained whisper.]

He’s my brother. [ She brings her hands up to cover her mouth, mildly shocked that she’d actually said the words out loud. The tears threaten to fall again, so she rubs her hands over her face, wiping them before they can do their damage. As she speaks again, she rushes her words, that anger that’s been boiling inside of her adding a roughness to her still-hushed tone.] I looked for him for so long, and then I finally find him- and what those bastards did to him-- [ The mix of emotions makes her throat tighten too much, cutting her off. She shakes her head angrily, looking away.]

[the-original-charley]

diederick-dmornay​:

MARCH THIRTIETH || ricky & charlie & charlotte

 [[ ‘Don’t hit me.’ ]] Buh! It was a tap! [[ A light tap, the sort of thing that was commonplace with friends or family. In another context, it’d have been a friendly slap. Now it’s the equivalent of a snap in her face to get her paying attention!

She knows him. There is literally no other explanation for this. She knows the real Charlie. Why else would she lower her voice, eye him out so carefully? Care about Charlie beyond the fucked up manipulations of Quinn and Clove and the rest of the NWRF. No-one else seems to care about him. ]]

Yes. Anything. [[ He says simply, firmly, looking up at her with a deep frown. There’s no shame in the small pleading sound of his voice. It’s for Charlie, he’d do anything to make him better. Charlotte doesn’t know the depths he’d stoop to—has stooped to in the past—for anyone he gives even a single shit about. ]] Please, you know something?

[ She stares at Ricky for a good, long moment as she decides whether or not to believe that he’s telling her the truth. Ultimately, she decides that he is- or, more honestly, she wants to believe that he is, and so she does. 

Charlotte looks away from him, but nods, belatedly, in answer to his question. She takes a small, fortifying breath.]

It’s Ethan’s birthday today. [ The whispered words are barely audible, but she knows he’s listening. Her eyes flick over to Ricky, but she doesn’t try to gauge his reaction] That’s his name. Ethan. [ Not Charlie. Not the lie that Trent and the NWRF put into his head.] What if- [ She stops herself with a shake of her head, trying to rein in that childish hope that keeps seeping into her voice.] What if there’s some part of him that knows that? [ Near pleading eyes meet Ricky’s] It could be possible... couldn’t it?

[the-original-charley]

diederick-dmornay​:

MARCH THIRTIETH || ricky & charlie & charlotte

​​

[[ Yes, they were told not to ask but Ricky would never listen to that if he really needed to. Or wanted too. Ricky liked to believe that Charlie would even ignore that rule for Ricky! Charlotte sounds angry, and Ricky couldn’t blame her: if he knew what Charlie actually meant to her. It’s different for Ricky, Charlie’s his best friend and something more he won’t dare name. What is she to him?! ]]

Not a message, I read them all. [[ There was nothing out of the ordinary and Ricky explains with a deepening frown. She rubs her chin, in thought. Half formed thoughts that tell Ricky she knows something.  ‘You don’t think‚’ her eyes widen like there could be good news. ‘No-it couldn’t be.’ ]] What the fuck? [[ He whisper-shouts, throwing out a hand to lightly slap her arm to bring her back to this conversation. ]] Finish your fucking sentences! Do you know something?

[ Charlotte turns towards Ricky, slightly aghast, shocked that he’d really had the nerve to hit her. Seemingly ignoring the question he’s asked, she scoffs.] Did you just hit me?! Don’t hit me. [ She’s stalling now, she knows it. He’s bound to know it. But for a moment, she doesn’t know what to say. Obviously, she does know something that he doesn’t. But can she say that? More than anything right now, all Charlotte wants is to say it- say that little hope that drifts through her mind. She wants so desperately to hear someone else say it too- to validate her. But to him? To Ricky? She’s not sure. 

There’s one way to find out.]

You care about him, don’t you? Really care? [ She asks in low voice, with a good measure of caution.] Would you do anything for him?  And I mean anything, for him? 

[the-original-charley]

rev-enoch-lynch​:

A LONELY FIGURE || enoch & charlotte

[[ Charlotte is charming, he thinks. Her loud laughter and earnest encouragement make her probably one of the nicer people he’s met here so far. Shame it’s outside, chain-smoking because he can’t sleep. There are stranger ways to meet someone. ]] Never had a good ear for those sort of things.

[[ He’s quickly coming to the end of his cigarette, and he may be a little slower with his next drag, preserve it a little longer. Even with no plans to learn another language, he listens as though she’s sharing vital information. Come the morning he’ll probably forget the swear he’d just learnt but the next one feels far simpler.

Despite himself, he still laughs at the ‘shit’ and ‘fuck’. If this was what they taught in schools, a lot more people would take up a language, he imagines.

That one feels far simpler and as he says it: ]] Kuso. [[ He looks half impressed with himself, that sounded close to how she pronounced it! Enoch thinks, at least, he doesn’t have a good ear for accents. ]] I like that one. Sounds a little more like a curse word. [[ Shaking his head, he’s never been particularly sweary, but this is the most he’s done in a while (given he’d spent almost a year simply not speaking to anyone) and it’s in Chinese. ]] You’re an excellent teacher. I think I’m getting the hang of this kuso.

[Charlotte laughs again- only lighter this time. More doubtful. Still, she nods her head and sends him an impressed look in the darkness. Her tone takes that of some old, wizened, sage.] Excellent practical application, young Padawan. [An old reference, sure- but a classic. And a well used one in her family unit back home. There’s a small pang of homesickness that pricks at her chest, but she brushes past it as her lungs fill with smoke. 

With an exhale she shakes her head lightly, more to force her thoughts together than in any sort of disagreement.] 

I don’t know about that, [she starts with a humbleness that- while true and honest- feels a little strange to her. She taps the excess ash from the cig into what she assumes is a neat little pile on the concrete next to her.] There’s something to be said about the willingness and dedication of the student, too. With any subject, you know? If you’re not into it, it’s not going to stick- teacher’s skill level be damned. It’s like when-- [Charlotte cuts herself off with an embarrassed laugh, hands swinging in resignation.] God, sorry. You didn’t ask for a lecture. [Maybe Enoch was onto something after all. Or maybe a previous life just stood on too many soapboxes. For now, though, she’ll just blame the late hour.]

[the-original-charley]

dot-speckter​:

cloud-gazing // dot & charlotte

Might as well. [Words spoken with a shrug. Dot had been startled, and couldn’t see any attempt of going back to her hard won serenity anytime soon. She’d never thought the day would come where taking a stranger’s company looked a small slice better than silence, but here she was]

[With her fingers holding her sweater tight, her feet tapped together rhythmically, matching the running cogs in her brain trying to find what to say, some kind of conversation starter.] So…

. . 

[ ‘So..’ With another, lighter laugh, Charlotte only nods her head, acknowledging the awkwardness. Right. This is where small talk is suppose to happen. Shifting slightly to lean back on her elbows as opposed to sitting up, she turns to look at Dot as she speaks.] So how long have you been here? On the island, not the field. [It seemed an obvious distinction, but one she felt compelled to add anyway.] I don’t think I’ve seen you around. Not that, that means anything- [She gives a toss of her head with the clarification, adding] I’ve only been here a month or so. 

[the-original-charley]

diederick-dmornay​:

MARCH THIRTIETH || ricky & charlie & charlotte

[[ That confirms it. ‘He’s never—’ cut off and rephrased to be impersonal. Like she knows him. Known him. Longer than Ricky has, surely. His gaze cuts back up to her. He’s afraid for more than one reason, now. 

‘I’ve felt like this before, and it wasn’t good.’ Charlie had warned him, sounded different. Angry. An emotion Charlie never seemed to feel. Is that why he’s deluded, Ricky wonders suddenly, he could never be happy in the same way Charlie is, so whoever he was before simply broke during the asteroids? ]]

I’ve never seen it! [[ Ricky can’t keep his voice low, he’s too on edge. ]] He didn’t turn up for his shift. Rocco messaged me to check in on him. Found him holding onto his PDD, couldn’t look at it— [[ He waves an arm, uselessly, he can’t lose his shit. Even as Charlotte is equally concerned for Charlie, he doesn’t want to accidentally screw over his friend by telling another NWRF member more than he should. ]]

He said he’d felt like this before, during the parasite. [[ Ricky is honest and simply tells her what he knows, the thought he shouldn’t tell her is gone entirely because it sounds like she knew the real Charlie. The fact Ricky is even here is selfish, he doesn’t know what to do with it. ]] Sharlie said he’s not allowed to talk about it. [[ That… sounded a little more pathetic than intended. The sad, pleading edge to his tone showing how hurt he is that Charlie won’t talk to him. Ricky stops himself talking, then, before he says anything else embarrassing. ]]

[Charlotte’s brows knit together in confusion as Ricky begins recounting what he’d seen. Though he validates her own concerns with the level of sheer panic in his voice, it only makes her more concerned. Ricky mentions Charlie’s hard wall against speaking about the parasite, and she scoffs, her frustrations clear.] Told him he’s not allowed to talk about it. Told us we’re not allowed to ask. [Though her mutterings are more to herself, she doesn’t try to hide her aggravated tone. Why should she? Surely, he’s seen the file, right? Surely, he can see how shady those bullshit rules were. It isn’t the first she’s seen rules like those-- during her time in the CIA, those types of rules meant the banned topic or phrase would would break an agent’s cover or put a mission in jeopardy. Though in this case, she couldn’t help wondering if the ‘powers that be’ were really just trying to cover their own asses. 

Charlotte runs a hand over her eyes and down her cheek. What was it he said about the PDD? Charlie was holding it but wouldn’t look at it? She doesn’t quite understand the significance of that detail- and maybe there isn’t any, but that too, wasn’t like him.] His was avoiding his PDD? What-- like he saw something.. weird? You think it was a message or-- [Just then an idea, glimmering with faint, hesitant hope, lights up her mind.] You don’t think-- [Her eyes widen and fall, absent fingers rub at her chin as she thinks outloud.] No-- it couldn’t be. [Could it?]

@diederick-dmornay​​

[the-original-charley]

rev-enoch-lynch​:

A LONELY FIGURE || enoch & charlotte

[[ Enoch knows when to be nosy, he doesn’t always have the strength to not act on it. Tonight, though, he really is savouring this opportunity to have a fun little chat over a cigarette.

A flash of white in the dark and she’s making fun of both of them.

An all encompassing swear sounds extremely useful. Even if it sounds far too pretty to be a curse word, he thinks, taking a drag as he listens. He repeats it in his mind a few times, trying to roll the sounds around in his mind before trying it out. ]] Chik— Chikasho— [[ He repeats, definitely saying it a little wrong before he laughs. ]] Hang on…

Chikushou. [[ Enoch tries once more, bouncing his cigarette light a pointer for a each syllable. ]]

How was that? Guess it’s more fun if you can actually pronounce it. Sounds far too nice a word to mean ‘son of a bitch’, though, I must admit.

[He attempts to say the word, and at the first, she can’t help but laugh with him. Nodding her head with encouragement.] No-- you’re doing good! You’re doing good. [He tries again and, though it’s a little choppy and his accent needed work, he hits all the right sounds. Charlotte laughs again, and nods approvingly.] That was good! It takes a little practice to be able to get into the swing of the language- to find the natural rhythm. 

I think that’s the most important lesson when learning a new language: learn the alphabet, and find the right the rhythm, then you’ll be able to pronounce anything. Understanding comes after. [She takes another drag, exhaling slowly as she thinks, looking through the sleepy fog for another word.] Try kuso. 

[She turns to him as she says the word- a new swear she offers him like it’s a new shoe to try on- her voice taking on a slight edge on the last syllable.] It’s comparable to.. a casual ‘shit’. Or ‘fuck’, depending on your leaning. [A smile as some childish part of her giggles at how pointedly and casually she’s saying words that have gotten her in a heap of trouble with her mother a few decades ago. She repeats the word, slower this time, her voice once again taking an edge on the last syllable.]