![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
Hello confusion, I know you well
Who: Sam Seaborn and Sarah Wenham
Where: Various
When: April 1st - 11th
What: Catch-all
Warnings: Will edit as necessary
[Open]
April 2nd
Sam starts walking on the road out of town while the sun is still high, determined to find the spot where this accident happened. As big as it was, as many people as there were involved, it has to have entailed a certain amount of large-scale destruction. Right? Right.
So there has to be some sign of it, somewhere, and he hasn't seen it anywhere else in town.
He can find it and stop wondering. He can find it and set aside the uneasiness that pricked him through the night. (Three accidents, three months, same symptoms each time, the odds of that can't be high, can't even be measurable.)
The first time he reaches the curve of the road, he doesn't notice. The sun is almost directly above him, and the trees are so tall that looking for landmarks is nigh-impossible.
But then there's the town's greeting sign, and he turns around and starts walking the other direction, this time making a point of watching the position of the sun.
When it starts to turn, well. He'll just have to head into the woods.
April 4th
It turns out that lunch meat and bread in a house with a teenage boy is not enough to keep everyone fed.
Which is why Sam is poking around the grocery store, completely unsure of what to get. Fruits and vegetables, probably. More lunch meat. Peanut butter? Jelly? Frozen pizza. He's zigzagging haphazardly through the store, retracing his steps as some other item occurs to him, stopping to stare at things he doesn't actually need for disproportionate amounts of time.
These instances are his brain catching up to him. Wanting to know what he's doing, why he's doing it, when it isn't necessary. He has to keep fighting that instinct. That this isn't necessary. He barely eats at his apartment anyway--
Except he doesn't have an apartment, he has a house. A house, and a teenage boy.
April 6th
He needs to get out of the house. Away from the signs of a teenage boy living in his space, away from the fresh waves of memory and the anxiety that comes with them.
(None of this is right/I don't know that boy/I don't have a/sister/sister/sister)
That word matches his gait as he jogs through the early-morning light. Sis-ter, sis-ter, sis-ter.
He's hung up on it, circling that one word until he's hypnotized by it, and pieces start falling into place again. Their parents disowning her after she got pregnant. Her marrying the scumbag who fathered Chase. The scumbag leaving when Chase was a baby. Chase and Theresa moving in with Sam himself while he was at Harvard.
(Sis-ter, sis-ter-- I didn't go to Harvard.)
He trips, catches himself, stumbles forward a few steps and then lands hard on his knees in someone's front yard.
"I went to Princeton," he says, outrage in his voice.
It's his Secret Service code name and everything.
April 8th
Sam feels like he's losing his mind.
If he smoked, he would be smoking. If he felt comfortable keeping alcohol in the house with Chase around, he would be drinking. Since he doesn't do one and won't do the other near his nephew (nephew?) he's stuck instead wandering around his back yard talking to himself.
At the moment it's an argument about guilt, grief, and responsibility. Responsibility to Chase vs responsibility for his own health, his own experienced grief vs his right to express it when Chase is (must be) going through the same or worse, the guilt of forgetting vs the resentment of being yoked to this kid vs guilt for feeling that way vs the ghostly thought that he doesn't belong here like this at all--
He's talking quietly, sure, but it's not impossible to overhear.
Where: Various
When: April 1st - 11th
What: Catch-all
Warnings: Will edit as necessary
[Open]
April 2nd
Sam starts walking on the road out of town while the sun is still high, determined to find the spot where this accident happened. As big as it was, as many people as there were involved, it has to have entailed a certain amount of large-scale destruction. Right? Right.
So there has to be some sign of it, somewhere, and he hasn't seen it anywhere else in town.
He can find it and stop wondering. He can find it and set aside the uneasiness that pricked him through the night. (Three accidents, three months, same symptoms each time, the odds of that can't be high, can't even be measurable.)
The first time he reaches the curve of the road, he doesn't notice. The sun is almost directly above him, and the trees are so tall that looking for landmarks is nigh-impossible.
But then there's the town's greeting sign, and he turns around and starts walking the other direction, this time making a point of watching the position of the sun.
When it starts to turn, well. He'll just have to head into the woods.
April 4th
It turns out that lunch meat and bread in a house with a teenage boy is not enough to keep everyone fed.
Which is why Sam is poking around the grocery store, completely unsure of what to get. Fruits and vegetables, probably. More lunch meat. Peanut butter? Jelly? Frozen pizza. He's zigzagging haphazardly through the store, retracing his steps as some other item occurs to him, stopping to stare at things he doesn't actually need for disproportionate amounts of time.
These instances are his brain catching up to him. Wanting to know what he's doing, why he's doing it, when it isn't necessary. He has to keep fighting that instinct. That this isn't necessary. He barely eats at his apartment anyway--
Except he doesn't have an apartment, he has a house. A house, and a teenage boy.
April 6th
He needs to get out of the house. Away from the signs of a teenage boy living in his space, away from the fresh waves of memory and the anxiety that comes with them.
(None of this is right/I don't know that boy/I don't have a/sister/sister/sister)
That word matches his gait as he jogs through the early-morning light. Sis-ter, sis-ter, sis-ter.
He's hung up on it, circling that one word until he's hypnotized by it, and pieces start falling into place again. Their parents disowning her after she got pregnant. Her marrying the scumbag who fathered Chase. The scumbag leaving when Chase was a baby. Chase and Theresa moving in with Sam himself while he was at Harvard.
(Sis-ter, sis-ter-- I didn't go to Harvard.)
He trips, catches himself, stumbles forward a few steps and then lands hard on his knees in someone's front yard.
"I went to Princeton," he says, outrage in his voice.
It's his Secret Service code name and everything.
April 8th
Sam feels like he's losing his mind.
If he smoked, he would be smoking. If he felt comfortable keeping alcohol in the house with Chase around, he would be drinking. Since he doesn't do one and won't do the other near his nephew (nephew?) he's stuck instead wandering around his back yard talking to himself.
At the moment it's an argument about guilt, grief, and responsibility. Responsibility to Chase vs responsibility for his own health, his own experienced grief vs his right to express it when Chase is (must be) going through the same or worse, the guilt of forgetting vs the resentment of being yoked to this kid vs guilt for feeling that way vs the ghostly thought that he doesn't belong here like this at all--
He's talking quietly, sure, but it's not impossible to overhear.
no subject
He remembers that. He remembers Pietro also being a little weird, but passionate! And passion is a good thing when it comes to civic engagement. "Water even would be great, thank you."
Probably a better idea than coffee, even if Sam gets the impression that he drinks a lot of coffee. A lot of it. "It's just the two of you?"
no subject
"I don't know them very well, the roommate." He grabs a glass, and bottled water from the fridge. Someone is still wary about the water supply.
no subject
Sam takes note of the water bottle, wondering if Cassian is like his parents, preferring not to taint their lips with the water of the hoi polloi. Still, he's not going to be rude enough to ask.
"When did you move here?"
no subject
Either way, he hands Sam the glass and the water bottle, and gives a little shake of his head. "Ten years ago, maybe. I don't know."
no subject
no subject
Mostly the latter; the details were probably deemed unimportant or maybe they simply didn't make it, I don't know.
Look at the light up there. Then look, oh, two degrees left. What do you see?
no subject
Sam looks, still holding the bottle poised to pour.
How much is a degree? A pinch, a twitch, a fraction?
--But there, what's that. A lens. A--] Camera. That's a camera.
[ He finally remembers what's in his hands and finishes pouring his glass of water. He sets the bottle down with a murmured thanks and takes a sip, not entirely sure why Cassian would point out something that seems like a private security feature.] I'm not going to steal the good silver if that's what you're worried about.
no subject
[ Not the camera, the entire situation. ]
That camera is in every house. Every single one. And it isn't the only one there.
This isn't about me. This is about the signs in the windows and the way people cringe when you break the rules.
i am so sorry about him
Holds up a finger, a wait, just wait a second gesture.
And then he walks out of Cassian's house and jogs back to his own.
He sees the cameras now. The more obvious ones at least. And he knows, knows that he didn't put them there. He wouldn't want surveillance inside his own home, whether it was for security or not.
Sam makes a rude gesture at the camera in the kitchen before he leaves again, heading back for Cassian's front door. ]
i laughed and keep laughing.
Well, he watches Sam leave the house and then Cassian decides he has not had enough coffee for all of this, whatever this is, so. Time to make some. It's even ready by the time Sam reaches the door again, which Cassian opens with a cocked eyebrow. ]
It's not just the houses; I don't think I need to say that but perhaps I do.
[ Come back in, Sam. ]
no subject
He glares up at the spot in the kitchen that Cassian pointed out, speaking to the camera even though he's technically addressing his neighbor. ] This constitutes an illegal search. It's a violation of the Constitution. Of this country's Constitution, the federal laws under which all States are subject. The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized.
[ A half-breath of a pause. ] How do I know that.
no subject
Why this? Why him? Ibaraki blew up a cop car and Cassian helped smuggle a body across town and this is probably what's going to get him busted. ]
Because you're a politician. That is my guess. [ Cassian pinches the bridge of his nose and goes to make coffee. ] From Earth, supposedly, which...hate to tell you, but you're assuming quite a lot if you're assuming we're still there. I mean, it's possible. But it's possible that we aren't, and I'd rather skip the 'are you sure's and padded room suggestions, if you're quite done.
Something to consider, anyway.
no subject
Uh??
Pls hold, because he didn't fully parse what you just said.
Rather, he did, but he really doesn't want to.
It takes him a few tries to get anything out. ] What. Why would you say that?
[ Because it does seem crazy. Entirely crazy. Completely.
Crazier than a town in the US completely closed off from the outside world, as best as he can tell?
No, it's impossible. Sam feels more unbalanced just for considering the idea.] Do you have evidence?
no subject
Evidence?
[ He does. Kind of, but he's also not...keen on the idea of just showing Sam his weapon and saying ~it's from outer space~. ]
The moment I see a ship I recognize I'll point it out to you.
no subject
The question he asks, he asks the camera, before turning to Cassian and repeating it. ]
Why are you surveilling us? Why are they surveilling us? What...
[ He looks at the camera again.
He's a school teacher. What possible... What possible......
Unless he isn't a school teacher. Unless he does work for the President. Unless. Unless. Unless something is wrong with his head?
Unless they did something to his head. ]
Oh, God. [ He needs to sit.
He'll compromise by leaning against the counter. ] This is crazy.
no subject
[ He does, however, take up Sam's previously forgotten bottle of water and nudge the other man's hands with it. Don't have a breakdown while dehydrated, it does no one any good. ]
Only theories, and they aren't terribly substantiated based on the chronic memory issues with this town.
sure thought i replied to this