day 44

[inflori]

[ His voice, even in his head, is tired. Exhausted and extremely irritated, even, with the petulance of a mind not yet fully awake. Petre was pulled from his comatose state just as suddenly as he fell into it, the stress of a broodmate being ripped from him having lifted from his symbiote. Now it's ready to keep going, but it hasn't given Petre the same courtesy just yet. He'll get there eventually. ]

( Why do you have to be so loud? )

[ ... All of you, he means. Ugh. ]

Comments

[adamance]

( I believe we were due to make up for your loss. But now that you've returned, we can find our normal volume. )

[Of course, there are quite a few newcomers who run contrary to Lexa's words. But oh well.]

[inflori]

[ 'Loss'. The word sets on his tongue with a bitter taste. He wants it spat back out at once. ]

( How long was I out? )

[adamance]

( Four days.

You didn't miss much. )

[At least he hasn't returned to the announcement of a mission, or anything like that.]

[inflori]

( I guess that's not so bad. Like a long weekend or whatever. )

[ Playing it off like he doesn't mind... but he does. Fuck losing control like that. ]

( So. Aoba's gone, isn't he. )

[adamance]

( Yes. You don't intend to follow him, do you? )

[The question is harsh and unforgiving, at least to some degree. But Petre's coma may have been willing, at least in some way. And in waking, she feels as if her goal with him must be to ensure that he is strong enough to keep going.

Even if it's an unfair approach. Somewhere deep down inside, she recognizes that it is. That doesn't mean that she acts on that knowledge.]

[deployed]

( You're awake. )

[ relief colors the statement. ]

( We've got some new people. They're still figuring out how to wall themselves off. )

[inflori]

( Well, tell them to hurry the fuck up. )

[ Another topic he doesn't like to talk about? Why people get to keep coming and coming while he still loses his own. He can't really mean that, though. Misato is new, and. Well. ]

( What're you so relieved about. )

[deployed]

( You know that's not how it works. )

[ It's hard not to be bitter. Bellamy's trying hard to ignore the gnawing absence of the Darkling. He understands how it stings to see new faces but not any he recognizes or calls his own. ]

( That you're awake. )

[inflori]

( It should be. Not my fault they're useless. )

[ It's like saying he hates children and is glad he was never one: that makes no sense, bro. ]

( Right. So you missed me, huh. Did you cry because I was gone? )

[wrackful]

( To piss you off, obviously. )

[inflori]

( Aw, I can't believe you missed me too. )

[ >:[[[[[[[ ]

[wrackful]

( What, you were down? )

[inflori]

( Fucking duh. )

[polyphonos]

[A prickling sensation under the skin. Her attention shifts and the feeling that accompanies it is an unmistakable sliver of relief.]

( Good. You're awake. )

[inflori]

[ The greatest question comes when he feels relief from her. His predisposition is to bicker with Cathaway, to make her feel - bad, somehow. Placing the blame on someone is easier than acknowledging this is all out of anyone's control.

Including his blackout. ]

( He's dead, isn't he. Aoba. )

[polyphonos]

( He is. )

[No hesitation, but a quiet little stitch of regret. It's a shame. Aoba had been kind - troubled, but as good as he knew to be. His loss isn't the first or the last, but that doesn't mean there's no sting in it.]

[inflori]

( So I'm alone. )

[ An unfair thing to be sad about. Hypocritical, even, when he'd gone to Cathaway to ask if he could get rid of Aoba as a broodmate. That was when he didn't think his loss would be of any consequence to his psyche.

It must be what's left of Angel in his head that regrets him being gone. ]

( Great. )

[wille]

[ Her attention on him is like a stage lightf flicked on in a pitch black theatre, with him alone on the stage. It's immediate and unrelenting. It's a firm grip on his wrist as if he's hanging over a ledge and she's the only one who can keep him from falling. But it's strange, how in all this, there's also a sense that it's her who needs saving. ]

( Petre! I knew it, you just needed rest, right? Stay there. I'm coming to find you. )

[inflori]

[ He'd been quietly resenting the lack of voices actually welcoming him back (>complains about something >complains when he doesn't get it), all while refusing to admit he'd been wondering if and when Misato would notice. Her focus, while expected (hoped for), is so sudden and overwhelming that it makes him feel ridiculously small.

He doesn't hate it. And he hates that. ]

( ... Not like I'll be hard to find. )

cries over my typo

[wille]

[ Boy, you're a difficult one to love and to please. Lucky for him, that's exactly the type of surrogate son she gravitates to with full intent, even if not with complete honesty to herself. There are many ways to deceive oneself, of course. ]

( That's not a bad thing. How are you feeling? Aside from cranky. )

[inflori]

[ !!! He's never cranky! Babies are cranky!!! ]

( Sore, I guess. This stupid thing in my head is weaker than I thought. )

[erbier]

[ Her thoughts curl around him loosely. She thought he would be back, and so there is no release of anxiety, just her welcome. Accepting him back into her attentions, where he belongs. ]

[inflori]

[ She's another voice that he would have been angered to find absent, if only because he's grown accustomed to being in her radar. To think that he would have eaten her alive once, only to now crave everything she has to give to him.

(It's best that he never finds out Angel's affection toward Ilde played a part on that.) ]

( Let me guess, you're busy with your flowers? )

[ Flowers grown back from when he burned them to a crisp, all that time ago. ]

[erbier]

( No. Why don't you come visit me. )

[ She'll let him in for now, because it will be just as easy to keep him out later. ]

( Come find me. )

[ She isn't somewhere. She is tucked into a pocket of the Station found by a desire to be with her, and allowed only by her desire to be found. The door is in no one hallway, it is wherever the Station opens up for it. Malleable as clay. ]

[inflori]

[ There's the slightest reluctance on Petre's end, as clear as day, taking the challenge upon himself to play hard. Just a little. He'd like to think no one's ever known him to just go after the kind voice in his head. They all know he's a desperate little puppy with sharp teeth yearning for love, though, as long as they're willing to accept his destructive possessiveness. (And occasional bites.)

The echo of a hmpf crosses the station before he picks himself up, arms crossed, and walks out into the spacious halls away from the pods. Petre has used his stupid little head long enough to pinpoint presences accurately, unless more experienced hosts lock him out, and while Ilde's location isn't a spot in any mental map, it guides his steps all the same.

Soon enough, his feet are stepping on grass. ]