Oct. 29th, 2012

amberdrake: 2nd book's cover art of Drake (Default)
[personal profile] amberdrake
Who: Amberdrake and Spike
What: A chance first meeting~
Where: Out and about in Ludmead.
When: Present
Notes: --
Warnings: --


The skin around Amberdrake's eye is still a rather disconcerting shade of ick from his mean bastard of a black eye the other day, but it's healing up nicely... and a touch faster than one might normally expect. It's not so shockingly noticeable, now, that the kestra'chern will avoid leaving the house at all, although he hasn't yet gone back to work.

In fact, the walk he's on is one he figures will stay solitary, on his way back from... somewhere, heading for the house again. It's a ways off, and he's got his head ducked a bit as he goes, although the vibe around him remains calm and serene as usual.
gotbottle: (alone)
[personal profile] gotbottle
Who: Raylan Givens and Rachel Conway
What: Regrouping.
Where: Rachel's house, Flyside.
When: backdated to a few days after the riots.
Notes: n/a
Warnings: none so far, will update as needed.


It takes her a few days to reach out to people. It's not that she doesn't care.

It's that she cares so desperately, so deeply. Feels so much responsibility for everyone she cares about, too much to let them be dragged into whatever mess she's created.

But she can't be sure, at first, what that mess might be. She lets that small handful of days pass, lets time come and go and unfold and bring what it will. And it brings... nothing. Apparently.

No imminent danger, at least. Rachel still can't quite believe she walked out of the Arena with a fallen vigilante's sword down her boot and a purloined Militia agent's CiD slipped down her shirt, but she's apparently pulled it off. No one's come to kick in her door, no one's come to drag her away.

So now she can reach out. Now she can make sure the people most dear to her are all right without putting them in harm's way.

She starts at the top of the list.

are you okay?


She still can't bring herself to send even Raylan a voice or video message, started out paranoid after her curbside interrogation, got even more so after her thefts at the Arena. What if someone sees her face and remembers her? What if someone hears her voice and reads between the lines?

i'm at home.


Her new home, the house in Flyside he just got done helping her move into, in the days leading up to the riots.

come over when you can.


He works to help keep order in the city and to help those that need it and have no other resources. God only knows how busy he is right now, in the wake of everything that's happened.

i want to see you. i miss you.


And that, at least, requires no further explanation.
serjeant: (→ occupied our skeleton)
[personal profile] serjeant
Who: Seoraj and Hasibe Ozcelik
What: Grieving.
Where: Amaryllis.
When: Over the weekend.
Notes: Sad faces.
Warnings: Discussion of death.
Grief is not something that Seoraj has ever done alone.

He knows loss - it's a familiar path to tread, a fallen comrade, a lost lover. They've never been the same person, before, but he's no stranger to the quiet that comes afterwards, when motion can no longer be maintained and the space where they aren't feels accusatory. The space where he isn't. Seoraj wakes up to silence in the wee hours of the morning, unsettled, and drinks tea alone in his kitchen, spreading his hands on the rough wooden table where he got accustomed to drinking, sometimes, with someone else. At home- at home he would never be alone, right now. He's never known a kitchen to be empty; the sound of someone trying to sleep filtering down. A cat sleeping near the hearth, where it's warm. His cousin sitting beside him with something stronger than tea and not meeting his eyes- Ewar is a boy in his memory, but he knows that hasn't been true for much longer than he's been in Baedal. He is, he's sure, still a boy in the mind of his brothers. In the mind of his sister, especially.

He tries to imagine, while he's saddling the horse who is now his and who will probably never get a name, what she'd say. Everything he can think of sounds disapproving - uncharitable of him, maybe, but that's the way of sisters, and it comes of love. He's had few problems in his life she wasn't pretty sure could be solved by a wife, and he finds himself leaning against the side of the horse, laughing-

It's just he's never done this by himself. He doesn't have it in mind to start now.
mightyfallen: (➵ and the weapons of war perished)
[personal profile] mightyfallen
Who: Jack and Rachel
What: Talkin' about things
When: After hours
Where: Jack's office in Syriac Well
Warnings: Mild alcoholism

i've got lots of them )

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