circumspector: (network » this is not a dream)
a n g e l . ([personal profile] circumspector) wrote in [community profile] station722016-06-22 02:57 pm

mental link - :018

[ There's a crackle of static, of a radio station getting tuned in and a deep breath. Not a loud one, this one, just tentative brush at whatever is closest. ]

( ... Aoba? Petre? )

[ Well, someone's awake. Tired sounding, but awake and she tries to clear her mind to focus enough to reach out broaden to whoever might be nearby. More direct, a little more present. Nervous always, when she feels disconnected from others. ]

( ... Hello? Anyone nearby? )

[ and for anyone looking for her, she's around the Bearings as she catches up on what she's missed out on, getting herself cleaned up from her extended nap time, and plugging herself back into the nest of machines in the common area. ]
deployed: (048.)

[personal profile] deployed 2016-08-14 01:05 am (UTC)(link)
[ Hope is a hard thing to keep alive. What little Bellamy has left is carefully hoarded, kept alive by his people, by Clarke. The lack of answering echo from her is discomfiting, made worse by the realization that none of the small hope he's cherished can be halved and gifted to her. ]

( You can tell me, if you want to, ) [ He says simply, finally. ] ( Do you have that now? Here? )

[ Which seemed impossible to Bellamy, but in comparison, without anything to root her to her past, then why not? Maybe this is all there was. Maybe this connection, the nest, her brood, they could be something good for her the way Octavia was for him. ]
Edited (dang it) 2016-08-14 01:06 (UTC)
deployed: (009.)

[personal profile] deployed 2016-08-31 03:32 am (UTC)(link)
[ This is what Bellamy has been trying to avoid feeling. Angel's contentment and satisfaction, the purity of her happiness, it's overwhelming. Bellamy holds his breath, savoring it unthinkingly. He hasn't felt anything like this in his entire life. Happiness always came with a price, with an edge of danger, even when he was just a kid. Knowing Angel feels this makes it hard to condemn anything, and he feels himself leaning in towards her until his forehead is pressed to hers.

She's not Octavia. For a moment, that fact is hard to remember. Bellamy has cared for so few people's happiness like this. Momentarily, it all blurs together. The sensation of that first breath and the feeling of rain mixing with the memory of Octavia's joy as she spun to face him in the open air of Earth. Surely this was the same exhilaration. Bellamy's happiness had been muted by the memory of gunfire and blood, but he'd seen this on Octavia's face. But it wasn't—

Angel's not Octavia. Bellamy's eyes open, mind humming, reminding himself. ]


( I'm glad, ) [ He admits, because whatever his own struggle to accept this place as his home, he finds the same pleasure in her happiness as he had in Octavia's. ] ( I didn't know it could feel like that. )

[ Being here, or just being happy in general. Probably both. ]