trig

Kit "Trig" Balker 17 || Brink || Security Class - 1 Increased Vision and Scent

[colony-confessions]

[trigbalker]

I hope Trig comes out of his shell.

[rebecca-richman]

[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.]

[trigbalker]

[Science class. It was one of the best parts of his day. Even though most of the material he knew. A refresher never hurt anyone, especially not in science. Trig tried to keep his hand rising to a minimum but it was hard when he knew the answer and no one else seemed inclined to try. It usually meant that he answered most of the questions in class. Science class was one of the few places where talking aloud wasn’t an uncomfortable thing. As focused as he was he barely noticed anyone else, let alone what they were doing if not taking notes. He didn’t really understand how you could be bored in science, it was all so amazing. Even the branches of it he wasn’t interested in exploring more in depth.

Trig had learned pretty quickly that staying after class to ask questions was not as beneficial in the Colony as it had been at his real school. Instead when class was over he spilled out into the hall like everyone else. As he walked he had a nagging feeling that he was forgetting something.  It wasn't’ till he was around the corner that he realized he was a book short. Stopping abruptly he checked his school bag just in case he’d put it in there. Not a wise move seeing as how someone smacked into him.

Turning quickly Trig was surprised to see Becca. It took him a moment to get over the surprise, short enough to spy a familiar pair of eyes looking at him from a sheet of paper but not enough time to reach down to pick up book or paper before Becca was collecting it. Her apology in his head roused him further out of his surprise.] Oh um no I er it was my fault. Sorry. [ He couldn’t resist looking down at her book. Could that really have been his eyes staring at him? No, that was a silly thought. Looking back up he pulled himself out of his thoughts and back to the pretty girl standing in front of him. The pretty girl who’d just ran into him.] Um are you alright?

[alexander-donovan]

[Something happens then, at the mention of the other boys. 

The kid’s back straightens, and he speaks more sure, his chin suddenly higher. He corrects Donovan—carefully, mind you—and though he doesn’t deny it, he takes the time to clarify. Like it’s an element of pride for him, a very important distinction, judging by the firmness of his tone that had previously been so breathy, so scattered and almost unsure. 

He supposes he knows what that feels like. To come to rely on a certain group of strangers so long that their faces in the morning and at night before the final light, are the only things keeping you going. That they can encompass the meaning of family just as much as anyone or anything else. 

Alex had never re-made family after his mom’s trial, however. In some ways, he’d thought for a long time that the meaning of it, to him, had died with the image of her he’d had before he knew. And perhaps he might be seen as cruel, that he thinks of it that way—like a death, of sorts—but when you find out the only person in the world who you trust, who you love, has spent your entire life lying to you, it’s kind of hard to just get over, regardless of ‘intentions’. 

By now, he’d like to think he’s forgiven her. Or, rather, he likes to think that he’s trying to. Everyday he wakes up with that goal in mind, and maybe he forgives her a little more every day. Maybe it will be something he has to decide to do for the rest of his life. Maybe you never stop choosing to forgive someone. Maybe it’s not a one time thing, but a constant. 

So maybe he can relate, on some level—but the courage in the boy’s eyes, in that moment, isn’t reflected back in Donovan’s. It’s not the same. He didn’t have the same depth of attachment to his clan, as Trig has to his adopted ‘brothers’. He’d cared, but not with the same vulnerability. He’d cared on principle, and he’d cared on morality, but personally, he’d been too preoccupied to secure them as deeply into his chest as he almost wishes he could have. 

He can only think of one person, currently, he can feel knotted in there, right between his breastbone and his spine.] 

I see. [It’s lame, he knows, but it’s not like he’s not used to that.] Well, anyone would confirm I believe in strength in numbers and in establishing roots, so good for you. Was it really just the four of you then? On your own? Who are the others? [He tries to figure if he’s met them, though he doesn’t know too many of the young ones in the Colony. He is hardly selected as trainer for the little ones. Trig’s age, probably, but any younger and they’re usually handed off to someone a bit… gentler. But he realizes there might be one he knows…] 

The Empath? In Torren, right? 

[trigbalker]

[Trig hasn’t dealt with questions relating to their time before the Colony or even ones about his brothers. When they were found it was Mouse doing the talking, as official head of their little family everyone let him take charge. Even now, if Twister gets in trouble it’s Mouse that does any talking about him. But it’s one of the few things he can talk about without getting all awkward. Before he can start answering the man’s question’s though, he’s asking more. Ironically bringing up the very brother Trig was just thinking about.]

Yeah, Mouse. He’s the oldest. Twister is in Delma, and Cookie, he’s the youngest, he’s in Calyset. [Four brothers, four houses. It sounds perfect if you didn’t think about how they’d separated them when they first got here. Trig’s still not pleased about that, especially given the strain on Mouse. But nothing to be done about it, rules are rules and Trig’s never been one to challenge them.] There seven of us, everyone else at the home… [Trig’s words trail off and he just shrugs. He never took the time to think about the guys who hadn’t made it. He’d never been close to any of them and it was easier to focus on surviving. Especially when Mouse locked himself away and none of them knew if he was gonna come around or not.

Swallowing hard he continues,] The seven of us found a farmhouse and stayed there. Plenty of resources, we managed ‘em, had us a plan. [Several actually. Trig had drawn up chart after chart, plotting how long they could last on what they had, changing it when they found something new in scavenging or had something stolen from them.] Found stuff nearby to add to our supplies. If it hadn’t been for the looters we’d have done alright. Bloody adults attacking us and trying to steal our stuff. [Anger that he never let out before coloured his words before he remembered who he was talking to.] Two of our brothers died in looter attacks, the third from an infection. I didn’t know how…

[Pain replaces the anger just as quickly as the anger had come up. And guilt. Because he was the guy with the smarts. He should have known how to cure the infection. How to fix the other two up or keep ‘em protected so it didn’t happen. But he hadn’t. End of the world survival skills hadn’t been something he knew he’d need. Trig swallows down the pain like he did the anger, takes more effort but he feels awkward showing this much emotion in front of a stranger. It’s the first time since talking about his brothers that his awkwardness comes out again.

Picking up like he hadn’t just trailed off, his awkwardness is back in full force, eyes dropping down, hesitation with his words, even the nervous habit of rubbing the back of his neck.] So there’s um just the four of us now.

[andreya-roche]

[Subtlety was not his strong suit. He was very clearly, visibly uncomfortable, avoiding her eyes - though not out of embarrassment, really. Maybe just the undying need to get away from her. From just about everyone. She made sure to move slowly, careful not to startle him - wondering if he was the type easily spooked. It wasn’t a chance she wanted to take, knowing she was on thin ice with him. She didn’t like being at odds with someone in her own house, much less someone she knew she had a charismatic advantage over. She knew she could be overbearing, but she also knew how to draw back.

Andreya offered him what she could of an understanding smile.] Noise happens, [she assured him with a shake of her head and a one-shouldered shrug. He had stacks of science books, and it took real effort to keep herself from engaging him in a conversation where she knew she’d be overly energetic. She hadn’t found many others who shared her zeal for science. She also wasn’t sure if he was going to be the right person to share that with…

She nodded, taking a little side step.] I’ll let you get back to your reading. [She handed him the last book, one she’d read before, on photovoltaics and solar energy.] That’s a good one. A little rudimentary but still a good read. Let me know what you think of it. [She smiled at him again, and started to walk away to leave him in peace.]

[trigbalker]

[Her comment caught him off guard. Trig had gotten used to comments about his reading materials. Living in the home there was no shortage on the things the other boys would comment on. But he’d never had someone say they’d read something he was thinking about reading. Not even his old science teachers, though their comments were more encouraging then the ones from the other boys.] You’ve read it?

[The surprise in his voice was obvious. Not only was he not used to someone reading the things he tended to like but she didn’t come across like a science geek. There was no reason for her to lie about it though. Wasn’t like he was some cool guy birds faked interests to talk to. Not to mention he was way younger. Impressing him wouldn’t gain her anything. Which meant she must be telling the truth. Before he could think too much on it though he was following up his first question with a few more.] It’s rudimentary you say? So would it be good for someone who has a science background but is new to photovoltaics? Or too basic?

[It had been one of the ones he couldn’t resist despite finally beginning to feel like he and his brothers were safe here. Still the idea of being able to have power and not needing to rely on fires if they ended up back out there had been sparked a few weeks earlier with a book on geothermal energy he’d stumbled on.]

[esmeralda-whitlock-deactivated2]

[Esmeralda needed to brush up on the medications that had been provided to her to see what exactly that she could use to treat her patients. It would require her to be a bit more creative with her prescriptions. However, if she could do so without terrible side effects, she absolutely was going to try to do so. She was glad that she had gotten a masters in both chemistry and biology, because in Colony 22 it was going to be an asset to her helping her patients. She wondered if she might be able to work with a neuroscientist on the right combinations, but she wasn’t quite sure if they even had one there.

She decided to start with what she knew, and then move on to find someone else to back up her assumptions. The library was the first place that she needed to go to, because it might have a book on medications. It might have some medical texts that went over some of the medicines.

While running her fingers over the sides of the books, Esmeralda caught eye of the boy who was carrying far too many books. A small smile found it’s way on her face as she appreciated the young man’s interest in books. When some of the books fell on the floor, Esmeralda walked up quickly and picked up a couple of them for him and placed them on the table.

Considering their last conversation, Esmeralda was reluctant to talk too much with him, but she did want to smooth things out a bit.] That’s a lot of books. Are you doing research?

[trigbalker]

Sorry. [The apology was instantly out of his mouth before he even looked up to see who was helping him. Trig was surprised at who it was helping him. His last encounter with this woman hadn’t gone well. It had been an odd sort of relief to find he wasn’t the most awkward person in the colony. Though being faced with talking to her again had him feeling a little nervous.]

Uh… Not really no. Well I mean I guess sort of…maybe. [Way to be coherent. Trig put the books he’d picked up back on the table before trying again.] It’s not um for school. It’s er personal research, I guess. [Trig looked down at the odd mix of books; microbiology books, science fiction books, a book on how to build your own generator, and a few other books that had things that could be of use if he and his brothers were on their own again.] I um was just gonna er make a list. [Another pause before he continued again just as awkwardly.] Ya know so I um could just grab one um quick. Next time.

[It wasn’t like he’d been doing anything wrong. Even if he wanted to take all those back to his room there wasn’t anything saying he couldn’t. Just had to return them. Trig wasn’t sure why he felt like he had to defend his stack of books. Maybe it was just a reflex from being teased so much when he was younger. Though the fact that she was an elite and he knew that it wasn’t that hard to find out how to make things he shouldn’t from these books could have been a big factor. She didn’t know he already knew how to make most of those things he shouldn’t.]

[alexander-donovan]

I’m sorry, [Alex offers, and his gruff tone has warmth in it—because he’s offered condolences before. Too many times, he’s said he’s sorry, too many times has he dropped a hand on a clan member’s shoulder, locked eyes with tearful gazes and given them a useless apology because it was all that he had to offer. Too many times has he seen people lose the ones they’ve loved, and been able to do nothing for it. 

The clan didn’t shrink. It grew when new people joined them, but would fall away again when more were lost to sickness, injury, infection—murder. 

He means it, and he is sorry, because he knows the weight of feeling responsible for these deaths, in some part. Carried them on his shoulders like it was his soul job to prevent them, somehow. Because a group of people had  once proclaimed him a leader, simply because he’d been the boldest of the group at the time, simply because he’d been the best at compartmentalizing his fear, his pain. 

“I’m here with three of my brothers…”

It has his brows drawing down. He feels like he would know if there were three related brothers in this colony. Even he, Mr. Above-File-Stalking-Donovan would know. At least, he’d be surprised to find out that he didn’t.] Three? And you lost three brothers? [It seems unlikely. Something isn’t making sense. There are definitely not four of the last name Balker. And then it clicks.] You’re one of the orphaned boys—[he remembers now. The day the crusaders returned to the Colony telling of how they came across a house in the middle of the woods of four boys, with three grave stones out front. They’d been surprised that such youth had stayed alive so long. Impressed, even.

He’s not even sure why it’s relevant, his question. Why he bothers to ask, what he expects the boy to say. But there’s no reason at all, because perhaps it’s not calculate, perhaps it’s just human curiosity] 

[trigbalker]

[Trig only nods at the man’s apology. Doesn’t know what sort of response he’s supposed to give because he was never taught how to deal with death and condolences. Wasn’t something that happened to him in the world that was. More then that Trig doesn’t know if he could speak just then without something embarrassing, like his voice breaking, happening. He doesn’t understand why Alex asks him again but again he nods. This time managing to squeeze a reply out of his tight throat.] Yeah.

[You’re one of the orphaned boys.

It’s probably true, none of them know if their parents survived, he’s not sure any of them care either. And he’s been called that before, back when his mother sent him trinkets every month to ease her conscience. At school he was one of the orphans or sometimes if a person was feeling particularly nasty one of the unwanted boys. Ditched in a boys home because his parents didn't want him. Or couldn’t keep him according to his mother. However you worded it, it still felt awful when he was a kid. The belonging to someone who was ashamed of him, who would only talk to him once a month and then only behind a screen. Being set apart when all he wanted as a kid was to fit in. Set apart at school and at the home thanks to his mother being partially in his life. Called that before he’d keep his head down, ashamed of it.

Trig isn’t that kid anymore. Hearing the word orphan doesn’t make him feel as if he’s been tossed aside like litter anymore. Instead there’s a shift in him in response to Alex’s words. Suddenly he’s standing taller, shoulders squaring and back straight, looking at the man in front of him instead of looking at the ground. The strength he hides, even from himself, under all his social awkwardness is hinted at in his change of posture. A strength that came from not just surviving but finding where he belonged finally.] We’re a family. Brothers.

[His words are even, no hint of the previous hesitance, but no anger either. Maybe he doesn’t know how long that will last but it’s truth now. They aren’t a group of orphans, they are a family. Four brothers who survived despite everything seemingly working to keep that from happening. Survived without the help of any adult, parent or not. Survived because they not only worked together but became a family. Mourned their losses and celebrated their triumphs together, like a true family.

The response is not meant to be a denial of the man’s words. Alex is thinking of the right boys, at least Trig hasn’t heard of any other groups of boys coming in together. His terminology is just outdated. They were orphans when the world ended now they were family. An important distinction to Trig.]

[ava-sophia-wilkes]

Whoops! [Ava manages to save one book from falling, catching it as it skitters across the table, but more slip past and hit the floor. She’d only been leafing through a short novel, and doesn’t resent the interruption as she kneels down to pick the dropped books up.] Y’alright there, honey? You’ll throw your back out liftin’ that many books.

[trigbalker]

[Trig can feel the back of his neck grow red when he sees he’s interrupted someone. Not only that but the someone is helping him pick up the books. Quickly he drops down beside her to pick up the books.] Er thanks. [Her accent throws him for a second because Trig hasn’t met too many Americans.] I um I’m fine. Thanks. I didn’t er realize I had so many. [It sounds lame even to his ears and he knows it’s true. He’d got caught up in a desire to read them all, torn between gaining knowledge that might help if they had to survive on their own again and things that just sounded cool to read about.] Sorry for um for bothering you.

[trigbalker]

alexander-donovan:

[Lies are like moving patterns across someone’s face. They’re visible, if you look closely enough, though sometimes more than others, and on some people more than others. Lies are a bit like living, breathing creatures, because they leave real sensations prickling on skin, leave actual trails of awkward silences in rooms bereft of warmth, ease. They seep tension into cold, black rooms with floor to ceiling one way mirrors, are the sweat that stains tabletops under white-knuckled hands. 

Alex has seen a million lies. 

But the ones that are more difficult are the ones that simply aren’t whole-truths. The ones that waver unsteady on voices, as if they don’t know quite where they belong. The ones that accidentally crack at the back of a throat, the ones that show on a young, naive face because this particular speaker doesn’t have the experience it takes to make it believable. 

There are a million reasons why someone might lie to Donovan about something so simple. A million and one if you count the fact that a lot of people around here don’t trust Elites almost by default. But just because it’s a lie, or an incomplete truth, doesn’t automatically make it a harmful one, or one of any significance. 

Alex knows what it’s like to require privacy. In fact, he knows what it means to demand it. To need the privilege and right to keep things to himself, to tuck them away in ordered corners in his head, touched only by him, when he’s ready for them, and not a moment before. And he can imagine how civilians might be even more desperate for it. In a place where there is hardly a thing they do on their own. The bedrooms are not theirs alone, the common rooms, the dining hall, the classroom, the training grounds.  They are surrounded by nothing but shared space. He can imagine how suffocating that must  be. Especially for teenagers, when every change, every emotion feels like the gravest one. A bad day might very well be your worst of your life because you’ve got only so many in the pot. 

So the trouble is deciphering when they are harmless and when they are not. Because should someone ever walk away from a conversation with Alex by a lie Donovan had chosen to believe or to let go, and went and got themselves hurt or killed or lost, Alex wouldn’t be equipped to deal with those kinds of consequences. Wouldn’t handle feeling at fault, well. 

Trig’s self-surrendered explanation sounds a bit looser, a bit more relaxed, which is always a good sign. It’s probably harmless, Alex knows. But Alex wouldn’t be Alex if he didn’t take himself (and everything) a bit too seriously.]

Brothers? [he settles. Not accusatory for now. But an inquisition that buys him time.] Are you here with your whole family? [He doesn’t see too much of that. Sometimes there is a parent or two, maybe a sibling. But whole family connections having found their way to the Colony is quite rare.]

[Are you here with your whole family?

The question automatically makes Trig think of the ones they’d lost, three brothers that didn’t make it. Chuck and his quiet kindness that had been so surprising to Trig, little Sammy who tried so hard, and Slightly who always had a knack for making everyone laugh. Not one of them had deserved what had happened to them. All three of them should be here in the Colony with the rest of them. A complete family. It had taken Trig a little while to realize that despite not having a mother or father he did have a complete family. For a little bit anyways. Thankfully it had been realized way before Chuck’s death so he’d had months of that feeling. An odd, given their circumstances and his knowledge that families didn’t last, feeling of security at having a family and friends. Family now is three brothers here with him and three brothers still at the farmhouse in roughly dug graves.]

No. [Trig swallows roughly trying to hold back the emotions that answer brings up.] We uh lost um three. [For once Trig is uncomfortable for an entirely different reason then just talking to an adult. Guilt for not saving them and for surviving when they didn’t is still strong, he can’t imagine it will ever ease. Isn’t sure if he wants it to even. He’d never lost anyone to death before them, never anyone to lose. Sure the whole world had practically been destroyed and he’d seen people die, walked away from a boy’s home full of boys with only nine other survivors. But those deaths hadn’t left a hole in him. They hadn’t felt the same as losing each of his three brothers had. He’d been upset and scared but it was easy to bury that in the new task of trying to survive, coming up with plans and ideas on how to do that. The only thing he could bury when he’d lost his three brothers was their bodies. Even now it still felt raw and painful. A throbbing just under the surface waiting to come back whenever he thought of the lost, lost boys.

He’s lucky though, and that’s the thought he tries to hold on to. There’s three brothers here with him. Unlike some he’s not alone. While he’s not sure if that’ll always be the case it’s enough for right now. More than enough. No matter how long it lasts Trig knows he’ll always feel lucky to have had them, a family of his own.] I’m here with three of my brothers. We all ended up in different houses so we um have different schedules. [But I have a family, I belong some place, to people, I have friends, brothers. For someone who had so little to call his own for so much of his life and always felt out of place it was huge to have a family, no matter how small it was, or how unconventional it might be. There was a sense of pride in being able to say he had family, especially since he’d helped get them here. It mingles uncomfortably with the guilt he feels about the other three but it’s pride nonetheless.]

[trigbalker]

andreya-roche:

[Andreya was in the library because she was a cliche. She knew it, others would find out, whatever. She liked spending her spare time filling up her head with things she didn’t know - learning, accumulating, inputting, it was all part of what she hungered for. That, and she was bored to tears anymore. What else was she supposed to fill her time with? Extra chores? Yeah, right after she drilled a hole in her head, the one she needed.

She was thumbing through a dismally appropriate book on new-age technology, “Playing God,” when she heard the rhythmic thump-whacks of books falling from one surface to another. A young boy, somewhat familiar, was hunched over a table, reaching for books he had toppled over. ‘Like a child,’ she sighed in her head, wondering how it was possible to not realize he couldn’t reasonably carry so many books. There were quite a few, and it was only moments before Andreya was on her feet and crouching to help him collect them.]

Bit of light reading, I see. [She offered him a smile, suddenly recognizing who he was: that indignant little boy who had refused the granola bar however long ago. Ah. Right. Maybe they’d both been dicks that day. Maybe this would act as reconciliation. Maybe not, she wasn’t a mind reader. She came to the library to read books, not people’s thoughts.]

[Trig just wanted to read in peace. Bury himself in some science book, the occasional science fiction creeping in among the real science books now that he was feeling less like he needed to gain knowledge for a return to the outside. Instead he was indecisive and greedy in a way. Though he hadn’t planned on taking all the books at once, just making a list. A list that had to be prioritized by how likely he’d be to use the information inside it which meant he needed to look at the books. Now though he was stuck not only picking them up but getting help because he’d obviously disturb someone else.] Thanks.

[He mumbled the word as soon as he saw someone helping him. It wasn’t till she made a comment that Trig actually bothered looking up giving his helper a small shrug. A flicker of recognition was clear in his eyes before he looked back down. Bugger. And bugger some more. It was the granola bar woman. Probably thought he was an even bigger idiot now. Bugger.] Er yeah. Sorry um for the er noise.

[What he wasn’t sorry for was how he’d acted the last time they met. There were a few things he regretted about that time. Mostly that he’d even attempted bartering with the woman. But he wasn’t sorry for not wanting to be treated like a charity case. Though that wasn’t something Trig wanted to think about because then he’d end up thinking about how she’d reminded him for some reason of his mother. That was not a road he wanted to go down. Instead he focused on the books. This situation was embarrassing enough without bringing in the other one.]

[trigbalker]

[It wasn’t unusual for Trig to find his way into the library during times his brothers were in training or taking care of chores. Sometimes he went there to do homework but mostly it was for extra research on a topic that had caught his attention or looking through the stacks and echo chips for something of interest. Today he’d found way too much that had caught his attention. As he couldn’t decide what he wanted to read first he had gotten the brilliant idea to take them to a table to look over a little closer. That had just succeed in getting him to pick a few more, and a few more after that. Suddenly he had a few too many having gotten carried away as tended to happen when something caught his interest. Slowly he made his way to a table with a large stack of books in his arms. He’d nearly accomplished it except he bumped into the table he was going for and knocked his stack off balance. Books slid from his arms onto the table, some sliding all the way to the floor.] Bugger. [He muttered under his breath. He’d been so close.]

[trigbalker]

adrian-vaughn:

[Adrian would be lying if she wasn’t a little put out. Though generally easy going, even she had her bad days. she hadn’t slept all that well last night and breakfast had been particularly terrible that morning. Training had had been horrible, she had let her ‘team’ down during the exercises and the Elite in charge of training had been more than happy to give her a hard time. After the day she was having it wasn’t like scrubbing toilets and mopping the Colony floor wasn’t exactly high on her list of favourite list of things to be doing right now.

As much as she had first wanted to shout at the boy she new it wasn’t her place. She wasn’t an Elite, she wasn’t his superior - hell she definitely wasn’t his mother. Though whoever his mother had been had done an a pretty good job considering her son had survived D-Day. Plus he did have the good sense to apologise to her. Trash duty. He wasn’t having the best day either]. It’s okay, just next time try wipe your feet on one of the many mats by the door.

[Adrian handed him the broom and dust pan before walking back to the janitor trolly.] Come on, we better retrace your footsteps. After you [she tilted her head in the direction he had come from, his tracks proof of his journey].

Right yeah. I was um— [Trying to avoid a pretty girl… Trying to avoid someone… In a hurry…] Not paying attention I guess. [Trig rubbed the back of his neck nervously. He’d been planning to just take off after he was done but her words let him know he wasn’t done. Looking in the direction she was talking about he could see his tracks. Bugger.

Dutifully he took the broom and dust pan.] Guess so. Sorry again. [Trig went to work on his mess, intent on just cleaning in silence. Except he found himself chuckling softly as a memory from the home came to him. Not wanting to look mad to this stranger he was with he spoke up.] The um floor made me think about one of our caretakers. [And because that sounded weird he had to elaborate.] She’d hate it here, couldn’t stand dirty floors. Only lasted a week at the home.

[Surprised he’d talked that much he left it at that. Trig wasn’t usually one to offer extra information, especially when he doubted it would be appreciated. He just made a mental note to tell the blokes about it later. They’d laugh along with him at the reminder of the caretaker’s face going purple at the sight of a jam jar breaking open on the floor. Not something an adult would understand. Maybe not something anyone other than his brothers would get even.]

[trigbalker]

chloehirsch:

[Amid ephemeral song, across the frosty tundra of her heart, Chloe waltzes within a sparrow’s nest and rarely stops to think. Tea time with the stars and singing on the moor, she falls within the barest cracks (though never does she sink). The foxes always bid her stay, but she will always be a runaway. The rebellious moon will always be there, calling her back.

She will never be like Trig again.

He seems so gentle.

It tugs at the febrile amblings of her blood, a memory in echo. Of noses in books, and the relentless pursuit of knowledge because it was all she had.]  Why would you need a lab? You can do so much without one. [She thinks she knows, but wants to hear him say it anyway.]

[He doesn't understand what she means. Doesn’t know how he could do anything without one. Or at least without the equipment within one. Looking at her quizzically it’s obvious her words have thrown him.] I uh…maybe not the lab but you need the equipment. Or at least to figure out the stuff I wanna figure out I do.

[Sure people have been doing science long before they had any of the that stuff. Except not his science, not microbiology, that needed specialized equipment. Trig wants to dig deeper, find out what changes there are in the DNA of infected verses non-infected. Because if he could understand how the infections changed him and his brothers maybe he could figure out how they could be controlled better. Ease Mouse and Cookie’s stress. That was the only science he was interested in doing right now.]

I take it you’re going old school then? That’s cool.

[trigbalker]

adrian-vaughn:

[Sighing, Adrian wiped her brow reflexively - a gesture of slight frustration. One of the downsides of mop duty was always that the floor only stayed clean for the few minutes it took to dry. Someone would alway inevitably walk by if not during - then right after you had mopped a certain spot. But Adrian had hoped that today she could at least move on from a section of dormitory hallway before seeing it sullied. 

Only the boy hadn’t just walked on a wet patch, he seemed to be trailing bits of mud and grass behind him. Not enough to look like something out of a cartoon but it was still enough for Adrian to have to pause and consider if she should first sweep up the mess or just try to mop it up right away.]

[She wasn’t going to get mad at him, she could see he clearly felt bad for making the mess. Truth be told scolding him would only trigger her maternal reflexes and Adrian wasn’t sure if she was up for that today. After all she had only been a mother for a blip of time in the grand scheme of things. And not a very good one if she could allow her daughter to be taken from her because of her husbands shady dealings with mobsters.]

It’s ok. I’ll make you a deal, you sweep and I mop?

[Trig was surprised that she didn’t scold him, there was something about her that made him think she would. Probably just her age. She reminded Trig of a few of the younger caretakers at the home. The ones who saw the boys as some sort of odd training for kids of their own. He never understood that line of thinking but he always supposed if a person could handle a home full of boys all different ages than one of their own would be cake. It was odd being around so many adults now that were not in the caretaker role.

He was grateful that she didn’t scold or yell at him. Maybe his offer to clean it up had helped. Now that he was done running his breathing was starting to slow down. He still felt breathless but talking felt easier.] Yeah, cool.

[This along with having to clean himself up was going to mean he’d miss class but it was English and he wasn’t fond of English anyway. And the teacher was one of the more reasonable ones so hopefully if he explained the situation it would be okay. Slowly, still checking to make sure the person he was avoiding hadn’t come in he went and grabbed the broom. Most of the grass and mud were gone but he took some paper towels from her cart and cleaned up his shoes a little bit before going back.] Sorry, again. I um had trash duty.

[All extra information like blondes he didn’t want to run into smelling and looking like a trash can Trig kept to himself as he started sweeping up the mess he made. At least he could do that right thanks to years of doing the same thing at the home.]

[trigbalker]

lex-laz:

[Suddenly, the skills that Lex had spent over four years cultivating are nigh useless. Her aim is true and her punches land, and for that she gets a pittance in the form of house points she doesn’t give a damn about. But she gets little else.

Here, no one’s bleeding, no one’s dying, and no one’s looking to her like she could be some kind of savior, a shepherd, an Ariadne, guiding them safely through the maze.

Here, she’s the same as everyone else. She’s worse, because she has delusions of grandeur. Because she remembers being reckless and blood-stained and on top of the world. She doesn’t know how to be happy like this.

It’s a startling revelation, to realize she has little to trade. To realize that she has nothing that anyone wants, now. She has quick enough fingers that she could steal, a little bit here and a little bit there, something that might get a teenaged boy to do her math homework for her.

It’s almost too pathetic to bear. She’d rather continue to ignore her math homework, damn the house points and anyone who might care about them, because it’d be better than lowering herself. Submitting to this powerlessness. Or worse, trying to hold onto something better when it’s already gone.

She’s trying safety, she’s trying comfort. She’s seeing if she might like it, if after the last four years she’s earned the rest. But there’s a lot that comes with it that’s hard to swallow. She’s a cog in a machine, she’s just another citizen, she doesn’t make her own rules.]

It fucking sucks. [She says, because there’s no real reason to censor her thoughts. Because she hasn’t found a way to make this system work for her yet, and this pipsqueak of a kid has done it better than her.] But I’m glad to have run into you. [She smiles, then, because she won’t write him off. Just another scavenger, trying to survive, even in here. Get a little extra.

She respects it, and she still might change her mind about the math.]

[Trig just nods at her statement because he’s not sure what else to do. Unlike most people Trig didn’t really lose anything with the world ending, he gained. In the home he didn’t have much at all, material or otherwise. But now he had brothers and a best friend. He could do with a sense of purpose, that’s something he’s yet to find in the Colony. It’s why he’s back offering to do people’s homework. Might not get him much but it’d be something, he’d be doing something.

Really not something he wants to think about in front of someone though and thankfully he doesn’t have time to because Lex is talking again. For a moment Trig thinks that he misheard her but she’s smiling and he’s pretty certain he didn’t.] Yeah? I er mean me too. [She could be just messing around with him but he doesn’t think she is. Pretty certain she’s not. Maybe he didn’t make a deal to do her math homework but it’s one of the few interactions he’s had since coming to the Colony that hasn’t left him feeling like he should crawl under a rock. Or some other not great emotion.

In fact he’s feeling pretty good about this conversation. Not to the point he’s gonna stick around though. They’re near his room now and he’s got some homework to get done before his brothers come around looking for him.] I gotta go do homework. I’ll uh see ya around, Lex.

[Giving her a small wave Trig heads off to his room with a little bit of a smile on his face.]

[rebecca-richman]

Knock Knock || Trig & Becca

[trigbalker]

rebecca-richman:

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.

“Yeah? Cool.” It shouldn’t surprise him that she knows Cookie, the youngest is quiet but not in an awkward way like he is. His smile at learning she knows his brother grows when she says he seems nice. Despite him having no real hand in how Cookie turned out he feels a sense of pride in knowing that his brother is doing well here. “Cookie is really nice. All my brothers are. Even Twister, though he’s a bit of a handful.” Trig doesn’t notice he’s not tripping over his words right then. He’s too busy feeling a tug between wanting Becca to know his brothers and being glad she doesn’t know them. He’s not sure why he feels either feeling but they are there and his awareness of them makes him uncomfortable.

As does her answer to his question. Had five. He feels guilty for not saying six, like the other three don’t count. They count, they just aren’t as easy to talk about, and it feels too late to mention them. Becca’s talking about her surviving brother now, a doctor. Trig looks up in interest at that. He’s never met anyone who had a doctor as a relative, at least that he knew of. It was like finding out your teachers had lives outside of school. As much time as he ends up in the infirmary he probably knows him, just not by first name. He’s kinda glad for that too, knowing Becca’s got a big brother in the infirmary makes him not wanna go back. What if he finds out Trig was talking to her and gets mad? Can doctors let a kid die for thinking their sister is cute? That’s not a thought he wants to be thinking, especially not in front of Becca. “I um I’m..I’m not sure. Maybe.” It’s hard focusing on the question when he’s busy wondering what sort of bloke Toby is and how to avoid going into the infirmary just in case.

He hadn’t given up on his dream exactly, that’s not why he’d used the past tense. It was just his dream from before and his goal now were a little different. For one there were no universities to try and get into. At ten he’d figured out his goal and made a plan to get there, something he worked towards for three years. The end of the world changed that and his goal turned into survival, for him and his brothers, again he’d made a plan, changing it as needed but always planning and plotting how best to do that. Coming to the Colony had meant changing his goal again, this time there was something similar to the old one to grasp on to, researcher. Except he had no idea how to achieve that goal. That was a problem for him and made him feel like he was just drifting without anything concrete. “I um I’d love to do that. Just don’t know how.” Trig shrugged as if it wasn’t that big of a deal despite it being a very big deal. “I mean I um I’ve asked around but they um don’t seem to have ideas for that um yet. Or er it doesn’t um look it at least.” Trying to sound casual while also not sounding like an idiot was leaving him tongue tied and not saying what he wanted to. And sounding like a different sort of idiot.

It was much easier to think about what Becca wanted to do. He was impressed by what Becca had thought about doing, both very creative jobs. Neither seemed to need interaction with other people either and he wondered if she liked that aspect or if it was just a coincidence. Trying to be supportive because of the way she trailed off, Trig spoke up. “Shouldn’t be too hard to do both. I er don’t know about well er publishing but um you can still er write. And um draw and stuff.” Aware of how terribly awkward he sounded Trig rubbed the back of his neck wishing, yet again, he knew how to talk better. He tried for an encouraging smile though despite how awkward he felt. Her dreams seemed like something she could still do, she at least had the art talent.

Her next question surprises him. “Yeah sure!” The agreement is out of his mouth too quickly for him to even think about it and he looks down awkwardly after. “I er mean I’m uh not doing anything so I um if you’re not um…. Sitting would be cool.” Without saying anything else, best way to avoid saying anything stupid, Trig led the way to one of the couches. Despite feeling awkward he couldn’t help smiling. Becca had suggested sitting instead of just saying she had to go, meaning she must not think he was too weird. Maybe even enjoyed talking to him a little bit. Or else she was super bored but he’d take it.

[trigbalker]

Do you think you can contribute to the Colony in any way?

I uh honestly don’t know. I want to. Sometimes it feels like a definite no. I’m never going to be a hunter, which feels like the most tangible way to contribute right now. I want to be a researcher. I want to find out the reason behind the infections and help figure out how to ease some of the effects of them. Or find out ways to move forward. Our resources will run out if we don’t do something to get us where we can produce again. I want to be a part of that. But my education stopped at thirteen and what we get now I uh I dunno that it counts for anything.

At some point it has to because all the elites will die and then what? Do they even have a plan for the future? Maybe they don’t even care about a future since they are all so old anyway. They had their lives before the world ended. But me and my brothers, Becca, all the other kids in our classes, this is our life. I refuse to believe that the rest of our lives is gonna be spent scrounging around for pieces of the old world, training for games, and classes that aren’t much more than time fillers.

Right now I’m just a kid and there’s not much I can do. But I won’t be a kid forever and I won’t just sit around trusting adults to do what’s right when they never think about anyone but themselves. When the time comes I dunno if I’ll get the chance to contribute to the Colony any. But you can be sure I’ll do whatever I can to make sure my brothers have more of a future than this.

[trigbalker]

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…

[Trash duty, that’s what Trig had been doing for the past hour. Despite the fact that it was repetitive and smelly he didn’t mind it so much. The Colony was a little larger than the boys’ home but trash duty was much the same here as it was there. Plus it was way better than being stuck with laundry. Trig took his victories where he could really.

Except today had not been a victory. Laundry probably would have been better in fact. Everything that could have gone wrong had. The first three bags of garbage had each torn spilling their contents everywhere, including on Trig. That had taken extra time to clean up, especially with it happening three separate times.

As if having his shoes covered in garbage three times wasn’t enough he’d slipped on a slick section of grass and straight into mud. Now he was dirty, smelly, and late. If Trig believed in karma and luck he’d really have to wonder what he’d done to deserve his. Instead he was just focused on getting back to his dorm as quickly as possible to clean up and get to class.

At least he was till he spotted a familiar looking girl that he definitely did not want seeing him like this. Quickly Trig ducked into a door and ran down the hall.

“No wait! I just…mopped there…

Bugger. He froze for a moment, looking at the woman with the mop with wide eyes before looking behind him to make sure the blonde he was ducking hadn’t come in the door too, it would be his luck. Thankfully there was no one there and relieved Trig turned back to the woman in front of him.] Sorry….I…. [His breathing was laboured from his pace making talking difficult and he had no good reason to offer for tracking mud on her floor.] I...can uh...clean it.