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frakkincylons) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
station722016-04-28 12:44 am
frakkincylons) wrote in station722016-04-28 12:44 am
( 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;
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. ][B] flight deck, that's not a viper;
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?
[ 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.[C] wandering/circle gardens;
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. ]
[ 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.[D] telepathy, sam would like some pants pls;
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?
[ 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? ][E] wildcard;
( 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. ]
[ idk man choose your own adventure, slap sam anywhere you need him /o/ ]
me too, me too...
Which, no thank you, Sam. Hard pass on that.] As you want.
[After all, even with his own ability to steel himself, he still feels much of Sam's discomfort - nausea boiling in the pit of his stomach. A deeper longing, like cut thread.] Cathaway and Prince survived. I trust her counsel and experience to see us through what lies ahead.
Seek her out. [It's better that his answers are found in the infinite pool of her mind than what flawed opinions their broodmates might generally carry, tainted with bias. Stained with morality.
Gross.]
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Are you being nice to me? [ spoken after a long moment, with amusement in the tone, and if Ren were to glance over to him, he's see one corner of Sam's lips quirking up into a smirk, as the hand that'd been covering his eyes lifts just at the bottom for him to crack one eye open to him. ] You should. You just frakked up a coma patient. It's like punting blind kittens.
[ well, recently recovered coma patient, but still in recovery, okay. his skin is still a sickly kind of pale, dark shadows under his eyes, and his body isn't near as strong as it was before the bullet hit him. but either way, he doesn't expect Ren to feel any kind of sympathy for him, or to feel at all bad for what just happened. he'd seen inside his head, looked at what he was. Sam won't ever expect Ren to feel guilt over anything, really. Or empathy. Or anything beyond the whirlwind of what he is and what effects him.
And so, the comments were more just Sam's own amusement, and his voice returns to something more serious, as he drops his hand back down over his eyes, blocking out the lights of the garden, as he comments on what was actually brought up. ]
But you don't trust Prince to?
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Leaving him like this.
Couple that with a place at Cathaway's side as something she treasures, and he hates Prince with a fervent passion. If Cathaway is his substitute for Snoke, Prince is the misshapen ghost of Ren's own father, unwilling to brook any leeway or understanding when differing perspectives lie on the table.]
I imagine he's very good at it.
[Said as if he were peeing on the idea itself.]
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[ at least, that seems like what Ren's saying in a round about kind of way. Sam hadn't gone to meet either of them yet, and knows very little about Prince outside of just 'he's in charge of the flight deck'.
he's also not really sure how much he can trust Ren's opinion of him, seeing as Ren isn't the most sane crayon in the box. there seems to be a lot more to this whole thing besides the symbiotes and the brood. and getting to some kind of ship to head back to the new Earth and make sure they're all still alive down there.
but, for now, it's Prince. And the fact Kylo Ren dislikes him enough to feel like he won't keep the rest of them alive and kicking. ]
Why's that?
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So basically you just don't like him.
[ that's okay, homie. you can not like people. it's allowed. in fact, sam feels pretty sure there's a lot of people you probably don't like. ]
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[Congratulations, Sam. You did it. You got Kylo Ren to say a thing without flipping a table into the sun or crying.]
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That sucks. [ that he's apparently not a likable person. by ren's standards. which maybe aren't the best, but he's trusting his judgment for the moment. he'll eventually make his own opinion. ] Does he have stick up the ass syndrome? Or just an jerk?