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Hexaflexagons

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ownperson: (armour; back to back)
[personal profile] ownperson

Back when getting home still felt like a distant dream, she thought she'd leave.

She thought she'd hop on the first ship out of there, put distance between her and the other Freelancers. She'd caused them all more harm than she'd done good and really, why would they want her around? They hadn't ever really been friends, not even in the earliest days of the Project when she hadn't gone off the fucking rails, so who would care if she bailed? Wouldn't it be better for her and for them (wouldn't it save North the trouble of trying to forgive her every day when she knew it was an exercise in futility?) if she just— bailed, found a home on the first distant colony her feet touched down on?

But then Wash and Carolina... asked her to stay.

Not just stay, join them on Blue Team. She didn't get it. She didn't understand why they'd offer her that kind of fucking second chance, but— well, apparently that was a trend? Hell, maybe not feeling like you deserved it was a fucking condition of being taken in! All she knew was that she went from feeling like she had nowhere to fucking go, to suddenly having an offer she couldn't find it in her to refuse, and that became her life. Living with fucking simulation troopers and a few ex-freelancers, playing capture the flag and dealing with the daily nonsense and...

It isn't... bad? It's just... weird. It's like nothing she's ever experienced before. Nothing like Freelancer, nothing like the marines, nothing like her youth. The sim troopers, all assholes themselves, push back against her bullshit with a scary kind of ease and they don't really give a fuck what she's done—apparently, not terrorizing them specifically kinda goes in her favour—and turns out it's really hard to sit and mope when you're living surrounded by that kind of chaos.

(Not that she doesn't have her moments, but give her a break, she's got some self-hatred to work through, okay?)

So things are... okay. Better than she expected, really. In a strange sort of way she's... got a life, a life of her own, and it's not exactly what she imagined for herself, but it works out. Everything works out.

Except for the gaping, empty space in her life where her brother used to be, always there even when she's not actively thinking about it.

He keeps his word and so he keeps his distance. She doesn't expect that to change. She doesn't expect him to forgive her, no matter how much time he gives himself. There are lines that can never be un-crossed and she leapt so far over them it'd be impressive if it wasn't so goddamned terrible. So she tries not to think about him, sticks to her side of the bargain and gives him space. Only gets her updates on how he's doing from York, and they're doing alright. He's doing alright.

But fuck if she doesn't miss him.

bothbarrels: (A: Worry about the objective)
[personal profile] bothbarrels
[ On the run. It was a phrase with certain connotations that North didn't necessarily like. It implied a sense of illegality, a sort of illicitness that he didn't enjoy thinking about. It wasn't him and South that had done wrong; it was the Director. But here they were, stuck with the consequences.

It had been nearly six months now. Six months on the run on a tidally-locked planet with barely even any cities to hide out in. Most of the facilities on the planet were sim bases, which were affiliated with the Project, and they mostly avoided those.

On this particular night, North and Theta had managed to hack someone's bank account and pay for a night in a hotel. It had been a while—quite a while—since they'd had one of those. North came out from the lobby and motioned to South to follow him to the door of the room they had gotten. ]


First dibs on the shower.

[ He says it with an easy geniality, as if they aren't on the run, aren't stealing other people's money to survive, aren't suffering from all the stress and tension that they have been allt his time. ]
[personal profile] martienne
There are no official holiday functions on the MOI. Word has it that the Director is Jewish—though he also doesn't seem like the holiday-function-funding kind of guy. Nevertheless, when Christmas arrives it's clear someone has taken it upon themselves to make sure Christmas happened. Most of the decor is in the common room and living quarters—a wreath hangs next to the hatch that leads to the common room and garland is strung across the edge of the ceiling. Three sprigs of mistletoe are hung conspicuously—at the entrance to the section of the ship that housed the living quarters, above the couch in the common room, and at the entrance of the mess. Cookies and candies are laid out on the counter in the common room. And someone seems to have started a playlist of holiday movies on the common room media console—right now the holiday classic Die Hard is playing.

Though there was no special meal served or time off given, this seems to be enough to set the tone for the Freelancers on the MOI.
team_player: (Default)
[personal profile] team_player
Who: North (Martienne) and South (Krakatau)
What: On The Run
When: Six months after crash of the MoI

And the fear that you hide and what that fear brings )
agentdork: (Δ Bros.)
[personal profile] agentdork
[ He and Delta have been on the run for a few years now- long enough for him to get used to it, long enough for him to grow resigned that maybe it's just them, maybe things didn't turn out exactly like he'd wanted. They're still alive, though, and he tells himself that's something. That's something to look forward to. For the longest time, it is. It's just the two of them, just he and Delta and every so often they stop on a planet for a longer period of time, just to get around, meet some people.

Delta insists on it, anymore, after watching York fall into a depressive slump, and he insists on them stopping every so often, on York getting real, human contact, going out to dinner, doing something to take care of himself.

It's how they hear rumors of people passing through the outskirts of town-- purple armor. York takes note of it, has Delta check the radios and the comms once they're holed up in a hotel for the week, and after getting an idea of where they might be, he goes looking, hopeful. ]
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