station72 | ( hella open, hatch log )

Entry tags:

( hella open, hatch log )

Who: Sam Anders and yooooou
Where: Nesting deck, Flight deck, Circle Gardens, Life Support/Telepathy
When: Day 165
Summary: Hatch log, delivery for Castor brood + wandering the station
Warnings: Sam's fuzzy little coma head, n/a

[A] wakey wakey eggs and bacey;

--on the other side. [ there's distant, monotone muttering just before sam gasps in a deep breath, eyes snapping open wide - too wide, like he can see to the end of the universe, through the walls of the pod and the station and all the endless void of space through to the moment of the big bang. for a moment that seems like an eternity, there's silence in his mind, a deafening kind of silence after hearing so, so much, and he just breathes. it's been months since he's moved his limbs, but the fingers of his right hand curl, holding a necklace on a chain, pressing the edges of it into the soft flesh of his palm, eyes blank and wide, but mind scrambling, chest heaving, like he's mid-panic attack. it's hard to go from what he was, back to this, but something's reaching out to him, soothing and spreading warmth through his mind, and soon, he knows he's safe here. healthy and well, repaired, pieced back together, and safe. eventually, his limbs twitch, muscles in his shoulders flex and contract, and he raises a hand up slowly to the base of his skill, and the thick cable plugged into it. a deep breath, and sam yanks it free. ]

Frak! [ ow, headache. not an incredibly fierce one, but sudden, along with a wave of sensation, both familiar and entirely foreigner, causing him to squeeze eyes shut, blinking them rapidly open, and yet, he knows this. memories flash, the cold of a viscous he's lowered into, sparks of electricity felt somewhere far away, and then, everything. he's had more in his head than this, before, and while Sam can't quite place his finger on the details of it, like a word you've forgotten. but he'd been there. he knows that much. ] When...

[ there was a rescue. the light of New Earth's sun had filled up the CIC, blinding him, and for a moment, Sam knew perfection. but something had come, and this he has such a clear picture of - someone had reached out for him. live. and then, here. he must have been in this pod for some time, the datastream liquid no longer clinging to him, his hair having grown slightly back, though there's still an ache at the base of his skull, where the bullet had been removed, a couple fingertips touching tenderly to a healed scar there now. carefully, cautiously, Sam starts to move, shimmying down the length of the pod, until his bare feet touch the bars of a ladder below, some weird medical space pajama being all that's keeping him decent for the moment. pulling himself free, Sam looks out, over the nesting pods lining the vast open deck, and feels like he's forgotten how to breathe. ]

The hell... [ how many times can his world be completely turned on its head? how many times can Sam Anders feel lost beyond any kind of retrieval? clinging at the edge of the ladder, breathing coming heavy and staggered, there's a singular longing for stability, for assurance, and a single name that comes from his lips in vain hope, right hand squeezing tight around the necklace there. ] ...Kara?

[B] flight deck, that's not a viper;

[ kara's necklace lays heavy on his chest, heavier than it should be. a chain, with a dogtag, a simple silver ring, and a bullet. ] Bullet that killed me. [ sam murmurs, as he paces through the flight deck, letting out a humorless snort. it's both very touching and very sad to know she attached it with the rest. and very telling, where she laid blame. always, where she laid blame. these clothes feel odd on his frame, the silence of the ship disquieting, and he's practically bald, which he hates. there's some fuzz there, like a very buzzed buzzcut, but it still feels like being a hospital patient. note - find a hat later.

simple shoes tapping against the smooth, flawless floors of the station, he's still not really sure if it's a building or a craft or something much stranger, but through the whispers and blurred passing emotions streaming through his mind, he gets the feeling of something immense. but he'll take that one room at a time. right now - flight deck. pacing in, he doesn't immediately see anyone else, which feels so bizarre to him. an empty deck. no engineers scrambling, no pilots shouting as they drop into their planes. just quiet. too much quiet, and, of course, the hum of so many consciousnesses in his head. foreign, and still the same. ] And still frakking confusing.

[ letting out a begrudging exhale, hand on the tag of Kara's necklace with his thumb passing over the engraved letters, sam lets his feet carry him to one of the ships, the other hand reaching up to smooth over the hull, before he stops, blinking at that hand. he's petting it like it's an animal - a dog or a horse. like it's a damn Cylon Raider. gods, this never stops being weird. ]

[C] wandering/circle gardens;

[ hours, it seems like, sam's been wandering the station. he'd met with some people, had some questions answered, but this place still mystifies him. not to mention, in the life support room, and the rec wing, there'd been things left around. belonging to who, the other hosts? where was the crew for this thing? why have such a massive thing with nobody in it? and the most striking thing he's noticing, as he paces through, is that it seems so, so much like a Cylon basestar. chrome and white walls, bare, and the organic spliced in here and there. and yet, it isn't.

turning a corner to wander aimlessly down another hall, sam finds himself facing the circle gardens. for the first time since waking up, something that isn't completely weird. grass. halleloo.

his shuffled walking towards to power walking, and then to jogging, and then to running, before sam's flopping himself bodily against the lawn of the gardens. not only had it been an eternity since he'd touched grass this green and alive, since Caprica's fall (the New Caprican grass was just never the same), but this station has seemed so empty and lifeless, aside from the other hosts. chest against the grass (close probably stained), and cheek turned against it as he lays there, sprawled, he spots another person some distance away, feels the vague pull of their connection again, and calls out. ]

Hey! This place is empty. Why's it empty?

[D] telepathy, sam would like some pants pls;

[ eventually, he settles in the room he'd found for himself in life support, staring down at the grass stains on his white space pajamas. which feel entirely too loose and too thin on him. like pajamas, imagine that. he's heard a few other snippets of thoughts and conversation here and there, in the mush of his mind, and he decides to give it a shot himself. he'd operated the entire frakking Galactica with just his brain, how hard is chatting? ]

( Anyone have any normal pants to spare around here? Or a hat? Feels like I'm shuffling around an old peoples' home. )

[ a really high tech old peoples' home. but that's it, that's all he has for now. did it work? sam's sitting still on the edge of his mattress, head tilted, like it'll make him hear the voices any better, waiting for something to come back. ]

[E] wildcard;

[ idk man choose your own adventure, slap sam anywhere you need him /o/ ]

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[ Watching her, the voice filters in slowly, and Sam's brows draw together. No features to the image of him other than the silhouette, and the voice, whispering, in a mesmerizing kind of way. Dark. That's what he gets from it. Dark. ]

Who is he?

[ Sam blurts out, before he really takes in what she'd said. Blinking rapidly a few times, he comes back to himself and amends - ] Sorry. You don't have to answer that.

[ he does still want to know, but his wanting to know doesn't give him the right to it, and she'd been relatively closed off to begin with, so it's likely she'd have rather not shared that. Moving on. ]

Right. I was planning on talking with Cathaway anyway. See if I can score a transdimensional phone call. [ the wry lift of his brows tells that he's thinking probably not, but it's worth the shot. anything is worth the shot. ]

[ She considers. The only one of the the hosts who understands her king has been Ren, it is something that has bonded them tightly. Their painful devotion to something which they know has poisoned them, but which is such a deeply entrenched part of themselves that they know not their place nor their worth without it... ]

My king, I tended his garden.

[ She misses him. She misses his certainty, even if that certainty in all things was a byproduct of his vast madness. She misses being special to him. She misses knowing that any day might be the last, it gave her a kind of peace to enjoy the small moments, to indulge in her garden and her poetry and little else. ]

[ he hadn't been expecting her to answer, but there it is anyway. king. that wasn't expected. though, gardener makes sense with her clothes all covered in dirt. but a gardener that kills traders? and why would a king need to creepy whisper to his gardener? huh. ]

Was he a good boss?

[ doubting it. from that creepy whispering, doubting it. ]

He was good to me.

[ But he was cruel to all else, deranged. She has seen him perform many acts of cruelty, and she has also borne the brunt of his paranoia, twisted and mutilated by him in her own way, some physical, much emotional. ]

But he was quite cruel. Our world was a cruel place.

[ He had made it so, burned everything that had once been beautiful and left behind a cracked wasteland, the sky choked with ash, fallen cities perpetually smoldering as shadows stalked the wastes. Her blue eyes flicker up to meet Sam's as she lets him have that small look into her scorched homeland. She shows him nothing too grotesque, just an idea of the landscape, it suggested enough. ]

[ he absorbs the scene made available for him, and immediately, his jaw drops, eyes wide as he stares somewhere in the middle distance. old earth, his earth, looked like this, but not nearly so... choked with decay and destruction. walk into ground zero of one the nukes from caprica, and it's be this - charred and cracked and ruined. devoid of life. violently devoid. ]

He destroyed it... The people? Everything? [ sam's eyes shooting back up to her, brows drawn, looking up to her, almost with an anger bubbling up in him. He doesn't know this world, or these people, so it doesn't seem right to be. But he hadn't know the Twelve Colonies either, when they took a desperate trip to try to save them from the same fate.

there's only the one thing shouting through his mind. ]

Why?

[ That is such a question, Sam. And truthfully, the answer is that he is insane, but you will never hear Ilde blame his behavior on that. She knows he is crazed, but there is always dogma, sycophancy. ]

It was his destiny, to consume the world in flame. His powers were devastating.

[ Riddled with far too much magic for one man to control, it had assuredly driven him insane. ]

Destiny. [ sam starts, flatly. of the few things that can get under sam's skin, genocide is definitely one of them. ]

And who told him that? Scriptures, an angel? [ he actually means that seriously, because he's seen destiny. laura, with her illness and her scrolls. kara, stolen to earth by a miracle, died, and returned to lead them. a song sam doesn't even remember writing played by Kara's father ages before they'd even met.

but destiny doesn't usually mean killing people. sounds like a good excuse to do a lot of bad. ]

[ She shakes her head, ]

He is Godking, he writes his own prophecies.

[ The utter magnitude of his power, world-destroying, gave him the right to call himself whatever if he wished. If he declared himself a God, he killed all who argued with him. His most devoted were those like Ilde, warped by the years of strife and violence, numb to death and desperate for some kind of pillar of belief in their life. She was brainwashed.

Someone as sensitive as Sam might feel it. The poison in her thoughts, the way they twist into unnatural shapes when it comes to this man, this king. ]

[ so he made it up himself, to justify the eradicate of an entire world, because he thought he should. there's a sickness that rolls through sam in a wave, his lips curling some. ]

No one you can touch with your hands or see with your eyes is a God.

[ there's a rawness to his voice, and part of sam wants to just get up and leave at this point. but he's watching Ilde, trying to decide how much she believes this, or why. And there it is, buried under all the rest. she wasn't a follower, she was a captive. ]

Or just make yourself the entire world for one person. [ and thus, create a God. from one perspective, at least. ]

You would've died for him?

[ There is a fracture in this girl. Many wounds, so much loneliness, and so much longing. She was not raised, was not taught how to be decent or kind, does not know how to love or show tenderness to others. Her politeness is a shield, a careful distancing of herself... But she lives in terror at all times. Beneath her forced calm, her iron grip on herself, she is forever a child about to die, clutching to her life, the only thing that belongs to her in this world.

She has watched so many die in so many terrible ways that she can no longer emote about it. She has watched so many dies that she knows it is unwise to care for them, to know their names or their hopes or the sound of their laughter. And yet she is now tied to this brood, stitched to them, forced to feel their pain and... one day their deaths. In bright and graphic detail. It just might break her, to be forced to feel that again. She has avoided it a long time, safe in the depths of a madman's palace, tending to her plants, making something grow in that obliviated world.

She looks at Sam again, bringing her eyes back from where they had wandered off into her garden. She hears him, she does not deny him. (The whole world had been captive to Dreus's madness.) ]

I would have died with him.

[ A subtle difference. ]

[ He can feel it, the fractures all through her, like cracks in glass, splintering out in a spider web that distorts the image. but the loneliness, the longing - it's something sam's known. reminds him a bit of someone else. it's hard, really, to want to hold anything against her for whatever happened on her world, and whatever she did or didn't do about it. but that's part of this, this connection. when you feel everything, you understand everything, and the world makes sense, for better or worse.

for a long moment, sam's eyes have strayed over to Ilde's garden, looking over the plants as he rolls it around in his head. what's happened to her, you can't undo. he knows that, after being with kara. scars fade but violence stays. death stays. horror and fear and abandonment. all of that. what she does, she probably does as what's perceived as protecting herself. maybe. maybe he'll learn more from her, but either way, it's worth knowing. trying. his thoughts stray back to kara, and for a moment, everything in him is filled with a deep love, something that felt carved into his bones before he'd even met her, and a longing, knowing he'll be able to go back to her soon. some day. but how much damage had she done to herself, to those around her, feeling like it was something that she had to do? how much of her had been swallowed in fear? ]

I'm glad you didn't. [ he says, after a long while, as he looks up from the plants. and it's true. that would've been a tragic end to a tragic life, and she seems like she'd barely gotten to really live. ]

And you've got more than him now. Whether we're all happy about it or not. [ Kylo Ren. Steve. Bicker all they want, hurting one of them will be like hurting yourself, now. That's what this kind of connection is. ]

[ She blushes as he thinks of his wife, it can be hard for her to hide emotions once they dig in to her, her face turning red. She has never felt anything like this before. She is barely out of her teenage years, and she missed the phase of awkward crushes and hand-holding, let alone the kind of love a husband has for his wife. It's too nice to tell him to stop but she wishes she could, it's an emotion she doesn't know how to put up a barrier against. Far more pleasant than when she had connected with Ren over their fractured lives.

She puts a hand to her cheek, looking away, embarrassed, terribly so. ]

I... [ At a loss for words. ] Yes. I am... [ Hesitation for a different reason, she is not sure what the word is. It's not quite 'happy' and 'satisfied' also downplays her feeling.]

This is where I should be.

Frak, sorry. [ He's adding in quickly, when he realizes he'd just bled all his gross Kara feelings out into her brain, not something everyone wants to know about, or is comfortable feeling. Something he'll have to work on, picking and choosing what's let out into the streams of their bond. For now, Sam tries to push it aside, move back to the conversation. ]

If there's one thing I know, now, it's that things don't happen by accident.

[ so many small things, that would important things later wouldn't have happened without. things that should've been impossible. the song he'd written, 2,000 years ago, played by Kara's father, the tune that brought the Five together, that gave Kara the coordinates to the new Earth. the bullet that had rendered his body useless, but given his mind everything they'd needed to make it home. so this, too, can't be an accident. ]

If you're here, and I'm here, it's because we belong here. All of us, together.

[ as much as it pains him to think he'll have to wait longer to get back to Kara, maybe he's not quite finished. maybe these people needs him, and he needs them. either way, he has something he needs to take care of - Earth - and the rest he'll figure out after. ]

Edited 2016-04-29 19:30 (UTC)

[ His acknowledgement of her embarrassment makes her flush even darker for a moment, which frustrates her desperately. The roil of emotion is overwhelming and she resents that, trying furiously to stop her heart from beating so quickly. Lips pursed into a thin line, she slowly gains control of herself. With her mind clearer, she reflects on his words.

She is glad that he feels that way. Glad for his acceptance. ]

Then perhaps this won't be so hard for you.

Maybe. I hope so.

[ it's setting in - he'll be here for a while, and with it, the faint ache of knowing what he's delaying, but for Ilde's sake, he pushes that thought away, trying to find something else to think of besides Kara, despite how acutely aware he is of the necklace hanging cool against his chest - a dogtag, a ring, and a bullet. His eyes glance to Ilde's garden instead, looking over what she has there. ]

What're you growing?

Much of this was here before I arrived. I have only just begun to take over the space.

[ Invasively. She sleeps here, eats and reads here, it is hers despite the fact that she did not plant it with her own two hands, she has decided, and to try to correct her would be fruitless. ]

Steve brought me seeds from the planet we visited, they are my first contribution. An interesting flower. It will take it some time to grow and then to bloom.

It's beautiful. Seems like you're taking good care of it.

[ leaning over, sam lays out on the grass, propped up on his elbows to relax as he looks over the plants. After all, he's still reeling from playing mental chicken with Ren, and just having some peace and quiet with the kind of nature he thought he'd never get to see again is soothing. ]

A planet? What was it?

Avera, it was not a very hospitable planet... but it had a few interesting plants.

[ Nothing about the people or the adventure she went on... just the plants.... She watches as Sam lays down in the grass, ]

You are welcome to rest here. You don't have your full strength when you first wake up into this.

At least there's that.

[ sam's guessing that's the planet that Adam Parker died on, but he's not going to comment on it for now. it's nice there was some upside. ]

I think I might. It's been a while since I got to sit around something so green. [ healthy, alive. natural. as for his full strength, ] I wasn't really before I came this way anyway. I'll have to try working back to that soon.

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( hella open, hatch log )

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