pineslog | ( may event ) sudden recall

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( may event ) sudden recall

EVENT: SUDDEN RECALL

On the day of the fifteenth, as the sun finally begins to break through the clouds that have been hanging over the town for weeks, the incessant ringing of your house phone similarly pierces the stillness, and refuses to cease until you answer it. You're free to leave your house and simply ignore it, of course, but judging by the distant sounds of ringing coming from all of the other houses on your street as well, it's probably an important call. It would really be a shame if you missed it.

... or it could just be an update from the mayor on the town's current state of post-flood recovery. But maybe that is important to you. Civic pride is important, after all, you'd never catch Linda missing an address from the mayor. Even one as strange as this one.

The voice on the other line isn't as polished or eloquent as you'd expect from someone in such a high position of authority, sounding rather dazed and distracted instead, with meandering sentences, abrupt stops, and sudden topic shifts. The information's all there, certainly, if you can parse through the mess, but something about the delivery itself is troubling, something that lingers in the back of your mind like a shadow throughout the day.

Maybe it happens the moment you hang up the phone, or perhaps a few hours later as you're gossiping with a neighbor about whether or not the mayor has a drinking problem, but at some point during the day you're suddenly struck, sent nearly reeling by a vision, a... memory? The chill of metal against your bare back, a bustle of men and women around you, like a churning tide of movement. Their voices a steady drone of clipped conversation around you, but the words themselves are indecipherable. It doesn't seem to slot neatly into your misty memories of Wayward Pines, but then, it doesn't feel anything like that troubling other that's been steadily building and growing in your mind since that fateful day you woke up in the hospital not so long ago.

And yet it feels real all the same.

Over the next few days, it quickly becomes clear that you aren't the only one feeling... off. All over town the people of Wayward Pines are acting strange, distracted, wary. Even Linda fails to make any of her weirdly competitive passive aggressive comments when you see her at the bakery. So that's one good thing to come of all this, at least.

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( closed; stark / potts household. )

[ pepper was almost out the door when the phone rang. pausing and casting a glance over her shoulder she waits for it to stop… but when it doesn’t she huffs a sigh and moves back inside to answer it. at first glance the message isn’t all that strange, but it doesn’t help that she’s barely listening since she’s got a few errands to run. when it concludes with an abrupt click she blinks, giving the receiver a long hard stare as, only then, does she wonder about how the mayor rushed and floundered through his own town wide address. ]

[ it doesn’t hit her until she’s making dinner, her hand growing still as the memories hit her like a truck. she tenses, heart rate jumping as confusion and anxiousness prompt a cold sweat. what the hell is going on, what is… what is all this! she sucks in a deep breath, her pupils shrinking to pinpoints as she tries and fails to make sense of the doctors, the room, and the results. ] Haptic… [ she starts, swallowing as her throat tightens, cutting off whatever else she might have wanted to say. ]

[ the knife in her hand trembles, her attempts to ground herself by focusing on the food unsuccessful. ] S- Stop. [ it’s but a whisper as she slams the knife down, the sound snapping her from her stupor… along with the pain of having just cut herself. dammit. dropping the knife she jerks her hand back, thumb brought to her lips to steep the blood as she sets her hand on the island to brace herself. ]

( open; around town. )

[ much of what happens following her freak out is a blur, but when she finally gets a hold of herself she realizes she’s locked herself in the bathroom. pepper breathes, hand dabbing the moisture under her eyes. ] Get a grip, Virginia. [ it doesn’t help as much as she had hoped and only serves to remind her of how helpless she had been when aldrich had captured and tortured her… and to what end!, to get back at tony and make her like him. she would never be like him, ever, no matter what he did to her. ]

[ she climbs to her feet and grabs a couple of tissues she dries the remainder of her tears. ] It’s going to be alright. Just breath. [ not as harsh as her last pep talk and, thankfully, 100% more successful. she smiles at herself in the mirror, but its tired, somewhat forced, and… good enough. ]

I need some fresh air. [ and to, more importantly, get her mind off of what just happened… but try as she might she can’t shake the feeling that there’s something else, something much worse than she could have imagined, going on right under their noses. ] But why…

[ lost in thought she rubs at the back of her neck, heading up the street with no real destination in mind. she stops in the bakery, at the school, and by town hall to try to reinstall some semblance of normalcy back into her life… but her brief soiree around town does nothing but reinforce the fact that something is wrong. even linda is somewhat courteous, keeping her snide remarks to herself as pepper browses the sweets. ]

( closed; clary’s house. )

[ abandoning hope of finding a way to turn her mood around pepper decides to check on clary. spending time with her niece should help, right? with a box of eclairs in hand she walks up the path to knock on the door. ] It’s your favorite aunt; [ haha. ] Pepper.

Edited 2017-05-15 21:22 (UTC)

[When Pepper arrives Clary is sitting on her couch with her sketchbook open and placed on her face. If asked, she's drawing via osmosis. Which is another way to say she's sweating on the page of her sketchbook.

The call at the door has her bolt upright sending her sketchbook clattering to a random page on the ground. She doesn't give it much mind as she rises to get the door.] It's open. [She's pretty sure it is anyway.

When Clary reaches the door she smiles at her aunt and gestures inside.] Come in. Oh! And sweets. I guess I'm not in trouble this time. [Her brow furrows slightly.] Are you alright?

[When Pepper walks inside she'll see the sketchbook positioned on the floor. It's open to a picture that Clary had drawn that morning, of an examining room and tools. The subject of the picture looks like Clary though she'd intended it to be her mother. It's come from the vision she had though seeing it gives her the creeps now.]

[ with a deep breath pepper puts on a smile. the last thing she wants to do is worry her niece about something that... felt a little too real. she shudders, her grip on the box tightening as she hears clary call it's open from the other side. she's frozen though, mind replaying what she remembered in the kitchen, so she doesn't reach for the knob. it's only when clary answers the door herself that she realizes she's standing outside on her porch looking like a deer caught in head. ]

No, not this time, [ she forces a laugh as she hands over the box. ] but I hope you've been staying out of trouble. [ it's hard to miss the open notebook when she moves inside, a frown forming as she sees just what she's drawn. ] Did... did you draw this today? [ she asks, because, maybe, it's a coincidence. she had caught clary drawing in the hospital following the accident. still, she can't help put stoop down and pick it up for a closer look. ]

[Clary forces a smile on her lips. She really is happy to see her aunt but her thoughts are jumbled and disjointed. Unlike Pepper she has issues hiding her true feelings.] I always try and stay out of trouble. [Which is mostly true.]

What did you bring anyway?

[She looks at the box curiously opening it before pausing and looking at the sketchbook that is now in her aunts hands. Panic flashes in her eyes.] Ah, yeah. Just a dream or something. I just had to draw it. It's nothing. Don't worry about it.

[It's obvious by Clary's tone that she's trying not to worry about it and failing.]

[ she believes she tries, but whether or not she manages to actually stay out of trouble is another story entirely. ]

I brought eclairs. [ she chose them at random, since she had just kind of wandered into the bakery while stuck in a daze. ] I hope they’re alright. [ she doesn’t remember her favorite dessert, but she’ll learn or relearn… right now she’s not even sure. ]

… [ the sketch, itself, is troubling, but how she reacted to her looking at it was definitely cause for concern. ] Just a dream… [ she trails off, studying it, because it looks vaguely similar to the room she recently remembered. ] Can you tell me about this dream of yours?

Perfect. [Clary is happy for the desert. What says distraction better than sugar? She pushes open the box and grabs one before placing the rest of them on the coffee table. She nibbles at the end of the desert, trying to make it last as long as humanly possible.]

It's... a nightmare. Not worth... talking about. [It sounds like a lame excuse. It might have sounded better if Clary could have gotten through the sentence without pausing.]

I don't know. I've been freaked out about it but I don't want to talk about it. It's just a dream... right?

[ with clary distracted by the desserts she takes another couple of minutes to study the drawing. it reminds her of what she saw, which is eerie, because how would clary know what she saw. but, then again, she could be looking a little too into this. ]

… [ she sets it down, however, when clary tries to dissuade her from doing a little digging. she doesn’t seem sure too herself though. ] I… don’t know. [ she takes a seat and, leaning forward, turns it towards her. ] Because how often do people have the same or similar dreams.

[Clary took a seat as well, licking the sticky sweetness from her fingers. The eclair had been a really nice distraction but it had been a short term one. Her attention was pulled back to the image that she'd drawn.

It continued to unsettle her.]

Honestly? [She looked at her aunt with an odd mixture of emotions.] I don't know. I don't think so.

[Clary really wants to believe that everything is normal.] I mean, I've been having a lot of strange dreams lately and I don't know why but it keeps feeling like it's more than just a dream.

I didn’t think so either, but… [ she swallows, mouth going dry as she tries and fails to tell clary about her own ‘dream’. ] I had the same one… similar. [ she amends, since she had been alone… the doctors bustling around her as they performed their tests. shuddering she averted her eyes, hand gripping the arm of the couch. ] It’s not a dream, or at least I don’t think it is. [ it feels too real. ] If you don’t want to talk about I won’t make you, but… [ she’s curious. very curious. something’s not quite right in wayward. ]

[A chill creeps down Clary's spine and wraps around her core. It feels as if her stomach has dropped out of her and she now regrets eating that eclair. Her tongue drags awkwardly over her lips. She wishes she had water.]

If it is real. What then? We are't safe here? Anywhere? What about my mom? [Clary tries not to sound frantic but she can't help it. She looks up at Pepper with a worried expression.]

Can we even do anything about it?

I… I don’t know. [ she breaths deep, a pause following because she’s got to choose her words carefully. ] But what’s done is done, and now that we know we can do our best to avoid and prevent it from happening again. [ she scoots closer to clary, reaching for her hand, so she can take it in her own. ] It’s going to be alright. [ she’s going to do her best to keep clary safe in her mother’s absence. ] I’m sure your mom’s fine. [ she pulls her into a hug, squeezing her tightly. ]

[Clary nods her head but it's just an automatic reaction. Can they really do anything? She signs heavily before turning to look at her Aunt. The touch is comforting and she's happy to have someone like Pep in her life.]

Thanks. I wish I could believe that too.

[Frankly, she can't.]

[ he doesn't really go too near the kitchen while he knows food is being prepared for the wildly dichotomous reasons of 1. being not very allowed near edible outcomes, and 2. not wanting to be roped into things that involve food. one might assume these go hand in hand, but they were assigned by different people, and are currently somewhat self-enforced, so.

either way, he can't totally help himself. sometimes he's just hungry; sometimes he just enjoys watching her work; sometimes he just can't help but want to be nearby, even if he's not all that keen on the whole being-roped-into-preparing-dinner thing that being nearby usually entails.

regardless, for whatever reasons he possesses, tonight he is nearby enough at least to hear the clatter of things dropping in the kitchen where they likely shouldn't be. the most telling element is hearing no noise whatsoever following said clatter. there's no cursing, no mumbling to herself, no nothing. naturally, it's the nothing that piques his interest.

AND SHE's, bleeding. oh, okay. she's bleeding, but not like. bleeding. it's still bleeding. ]

Consider it done. Stopped. Absolute zero.

[ sometimes she appreciates his restraint, because he can easily do more harm than good… especially in the kitchen. but that’s not to say she doesn’t like when they do a little experimenting together. however, pepper’s nothing if not observant, and knows that if she asks or tells him to help he’ll be less likely to comply… so when she’d like his help ( or his company ) she tries to ~~not so~~ subtly coerce him to join in on his own, making it seem as fun and appealing as possible. ]

[ she doesn’t realize he’s hovering by the door until he speaks up, startling her out of her thoughts. ] Thanks. [ as her hand falls back to her side she smiles to stay his concern, though her eyes say more than she does. ] I knew I could count on you. [ her smile drops the moment she turns her back on him, a couple of paper towels taken so she can wrap her finger. ] But, sorry baby, dinner’s going to be a bit delayed.

[ yes, he's somewhat hip to her tactics there, but in the kind of way where he realizes what's happened again in the middle of cutting up potatoes and chattering on about whatever it is they're talking about that time, and can't ever seem to find it in himself to mind at all. well, much. she's a tricksy individual and it's one of the things that he loves about her, honestly.

this time, though, the tricks aren't really that strong. while he appreciates the thought and effort put into making him feel better, maybe it's not quite the right time for it. ] Cleaning up hazardous materials tends to take a while. After everything that just happened, I don't think we need any more health code violations. [ it's said as he sort of slides into the room. ambles, maybe. everything's calm, but maybe he could be a little closer to her than the doorway, and everything's light but maybe it could be a little less so than they're pretending. ] What are we having, anyway - nostalgia?

[ and there is no doubt in her mind that he's onto her and her tricks... but that makes it more fun, almost like a game, since she has to on occasion tweak her tactics to keep him from recognizing he's being duped. at least in a sense. she loves it though, watching as realization sinks in... the slight twitch of his brow or subtle turn of his lip. she'll admit it's hard not to chuckle sometimes, but she manages as best she can, instead cutting in with an affectionate gesture or a chaste kiss. ]

[ but this evening is different and she's having a hard time acting as though nothing's happened. it doesn't help that she cut herself, a tangible piece of proof that she was ( and still is ) distracted. still, she tries to redirect the conversation, but he's right there setting it back on track. ] I'll just order a pizza. [ since he's right and she doesn't much feel like cooking anymore. ] We were going to... [ she should have known better than to think she could slip this under the radar. ] Nostalgia... seasoned, maybe overly so, with fear and dread... and a side of uncertainty.

[ she rounds the counter when he starts to approach, telling herself not to look at the cameras, because she doesn't want to arouse further suspicion. ] Just memories, strange ones, ... [ her tone drops a few octaves as she continues, ] that may or may not pertain to the accident.

[ honestly, he appreciates that she goes through the effort of switching it up here and there. not only because otherwise it likely wouldn't keep working, but also because he doesn't care about being caught in any sort of trap as long as it's one made by her. it's a game; one of many they share, and it's just as rewarding as any of the others.

still, he likes it when she attempts to mollify him after he's figured out what happened again. it's unnecessary, but it's cute. plus it means extra kisses, so. ]

That all sounds... I don't know, Roman Catholic? Do they have their own dishes? I didn't think they did. [ he can still be casual, paying attention only to her because for some reason it's not that difficult for him to ignore that his every move is being watched; that everything he says is on some record somewhere. it doesn't always stop him from speaking candidly, but. usually it's a fair deterrent. ] Anything interesting, or just a bunch of splinters?

[ of course. she would hate for him to get bored. ~~pepper is the spice of life.~~ she doesn't think he would, but the time they share in the kitchen is something she enjoys. it's the little things... but besides that, between his job and her jobs they don't always have a lot of downtime, so she tries to make the most of it. all of it. ]

[ and, ok, yes it's wholly unnecessary, but mitigating damage ( of any kind, really ) has just become a reflex. ]

Roman Catholic... [ she shakes her head and snorts, hand reaching out for him. ] They don't. Dietary constraints, yes, their own dishes, no. [ she grabs a handful of his shirt when she's close enough, pulling him into her so she can bury her face in his chest. ] I don't know if it's something I'd classify as interesting. [ disconcerting maybe. ] I think... [ she tries to make sense of the bits and pieces she's remembered, to tell him something, anything, but it's easier said than done. ] Tests.

[ he was always kind of hit and miss on pepper - sometimes he cared about spices, sometimes he was just hungry; sometimes he wanted some zing, sometimes he wanted just the salt - but now he has a great excuse when someone offers him some on his salad or pasta or steak or whatever and he doesn't feel like it at the time: 'no thanks, i've got my own.'

and it's cool, he's pretty okay with the mitigation game. he's used to playing it himself. ]

That makes them sound way less fun than they already didn't, honestly. There's way too much guilt in that sect for me. [ HA. HAH. HAHAHHA. sorry. anyway, she pulls herself towards him (him into her?) and it's just second nature to pull her in as much as he can, putting his arms around her and holding her to him where she seems to want to tunnel into him anyway.

He listens to all that, and considers it carefully. Then: ] You wanna dance? I wanna dance. We should put on some music so we can dance properly. [ emphasis ever so slight but nothing she can't pick up on. This just seems like a conversation that should be had a little bit less under such insane constraints, and while they'll still have to be careful about what they say, maybe music will... help mask at least enough to get by. Honestly, he's not sure either of them can really break the habit of speaking without saying anything, but at least having some music on might help smooth things out a little. If nothing else, the movement might help.

Hopefully. ]

[ and that’s definitely enough to warrant a flush of embarrassment and not-so-muffled chuckle. ]

[ if they weren’t monitored by ‘big brother’ 24/7 she might not have opted to play the game, but regardless she’s thankful he’s going along with it. ]

I never had you pegged as the preachy type. [ too much guilt. oh tony. she tightens her grip on him, hugging him close as she tilts her head back and kisses the butt of his chin. ] I would love to dance. [ the smile comes easy, his emphasis not altogether necessary but nevertheless appreciated. her hand falls from his chest, taking his own and lacing their fingers together.] How about something… [ a pointed pause. ] fun. [ and loud. with something to smother their chatter she won’t feel as apprehensive about sharing. that, and a chance to relax and unwind is not something she’ll turn down right now. ]

[ she leads him into the living room. ] How does Queen sound, Fight From the Inside, Under Pressure, or maybe even I’m Going Slightly Mad. [ her gaze drops and she shakes her head with a laugh. ]

[ awww he does so enjoy it when he can make her change colors. it's not technically all that difficult, but when it happens out of a positive set of circumstances he always counts it as a win. ]

Did you not hear the "less fun than they already weren't" part? You definitely pegged me right. [ if there's a slight 'oh baby' lilt to those words it's purely intentional, i assure you. ] Fun is good.

[ he lets her lead him easily - since when does he do anything else - enjoying the relative lightness to her, even if it's potentially an act. she wasn't acting at all a few seconds ago, and it wasn't because she didn't feel like it. neither one of them just can't act until they. well. can't. if she's acting at all right now - and he's sure she is - it's not really a good thing? but it's a better thing. and he'll take it. this place seems to periodically like to take everything else; he feels it's only fair. ]

So there's definitely no theme or anything going on, good to know. Pick your poison; Hang On In There isn't bad, but. A little slow to get started. Whatever you want, babe.

[ it’s not all that difficult… for tony. he has a knack for knowing how to press all the right buttons, though his when still leaves something to be desired, since he’s left her flustered and speechless on more than one occasion… and in public no less! but now is not one of those times, and she’s grateful for his lightening the mood. ]

I heard it. But [ sliding her hands up and over his shoulders she locks them behind his head, her lips dusting his cheek on their way to his ear. ] do you think you could peg me right?

[ it is and it isn’t. she’s walking a fine line. he’s making it easier to keep it together, but she’s not sure how much longer she’s going to be able to hold out. ] Not at all… [ her lips quirk in a knowing smirk. ] Don’t Stop Me Now has a little more umf… but we can always just put it on shuffle. [ since it doesn’t really matter. ] If we have to start somewhere though… Save Me. [ reluctantly she peels herself away from him, crossing the room to turn on the music. she breathes out a sigh when the silence finally dissipates, turning with a tired smile. ] I can’t remember the last time we danced…

Edited (i swear i know how to read.) 2017-05-27 14:30 (UTC)

Closed @ home

When the phone rings, he's yelling for everybody to get moving, because the carpool is going to leave without them, and they'll have to walk to school (no it's not and no they won't). Ignoring the phone seems like a good idea until he realizes that their phone isn't the only one ringing. There are so many of them all at once that, to his sensitive hearing, it's like some kind of bizarre echo. It's not so much that he cares about answering it, especially not to toe the line. It's more that, now, he's curious.

He's not really sure what to make of the message. "What the fuck," he mutters, just as he's reaching out to return the phone to its cradle. That's when it hits him, and the phone ends up clattering to the floor as he braces himself against the table.

"Fuck," he says again, this time more of a guttural, angry denial. His memories of life before this town have been slowly coming back to him, and there still seem to be some gaps. From what he does remember, though, he suspects that those might never go away. This newest bit of information--he's not quite sure about when it goes, where to slot it away among all of the other bullshit. It serves to dredge up other memories. Similar experiences, in clinical environments, surrounded by people in lab coats. Some of them aren't terrible. He recalls one instance where he was lying on a table, but it was of his own volition, and a beautiful red-haired woman stood over him. Jean.

The clearest in his head, though, is Alkali's lab. The tank. The huge fucking needles, and the adamantium. Whatever this new piece of the puzzle is, he doesn't think it's related. What the hell does it mean? What the fuck did they do to me, this time?

A growl starts to build deep in his throat as he picks up the fallen phone and presses it to his ear again; but of course, there's nothing to be heard, now. He sets it down on the cradle, the steady calm of his action almost belying the rage he can feel starting to build. It erupts suddenly, along with his claws. He stabs the phone violently, along with the table where it's sitting. The phone is stuck on his claws now, so he flings it against the wall, where it breaks apart into pieces.

And then, just like that, he retracts his claws and yells, "Hurry up, I'll be in the van!"

Open @ school

Logan is very clearly in a bad mood. He's late to his first class in the morning, which means no time to stop for coffee in the teacher's lounge, which means bourbon flavored bourbon instead of coffee flavored bourbon will be his drink of choice for much of the morning. He's stealthy about it at least. It's in a coffee mug. It's fine. Everything is fine.

His main problem is that he's not sure where to aim his anger, and that's not really a new problem; but it does certainly make him a pain for his students and colleagues to deal with today. The fact that some of them are probably also out of sorts for the same reason might lead to hostility or to a shared commiseration. I'm an experiment. You're an experiment. Usually he's not one to talk shit out without some coaxing, but he's going to be cool with it today probably. Fuck the rules. He's kind of been feeling that sentiment more and more as the days and weeks wear on, and he recovers more of himself.

During class time, his students will probably see him carving away at a block of wood while he's not helping them with their own projects. It looks like it might turn out to be an animal. Maybe. A cat? A dog? An alpaca? Who knows. His carving tools are his own claws, though, for the most part. He doesn't hide the fact that he's different; that he's a mutant. It's never been a problem, here. If it were, he would have raised hell about it already.

He spends his prep period in the teacher's lounge, chatting to friends and colleagues, maybe discussing the mayor's weird message from earlier in the day.

Open @ other

After school, he tosses the keys to his oldest daughter and decides to walk back home, hoping that it will clear his head somewhat. He stops for dinner somewhere, and also probably definitely hits up a bar. After the day he's had, he certainly wants to drown it in something.

Open @ wildcard

If you want to meet him somewhere else or have another idea, feel free to hit me with whatever!

Taako doesn't hide, either. He openly lets his coffee mug float when he's not drinking, uncharacteristically deeply, from it.

"So, woof, that uh... Thing earlier? With the mayor? What a mess, huh?"

He's also not quiet, doesn't hide the curiosity in his voice or the raise in volume when he hits the subject. He doesn't mention the memories, not outright, but he does hint and nudge at the subject. He's mostly focused on the mayoral address itself.

"Talk about distracted - Like, could we ask for some professionalism, please?" Taako's eyes sweep the room to catch reactions as he idly stirs his coffee. It needs more sugar.

The day had been... long, and anything but pleasant. Having strange memories of a life she'd never lived was one thing, but this? Suddenly recalling that she'd been experimented on, again? It had been a real struggle to focus on her classes, to keep the mask in place for the students. Everything was fine, there was nothing wrong and not a thing to worry about.

Her instinct, once she'd remembered those fragments of what had been done to her (to them all?), was to turn to the people she cared about most. Unfortunately, that was problematic for poor Rogue. The only person in town who knew about her past experiences was Damon, and she couldn't burden him with this, not when he had his own terrible memories to deal with (and when he wasn't really anything to her at all really). And Logan... She couldn't even tell if this was her Logan, if he was the one who had saved her life and who she'd waited for all those years.

It was that not knowing that got to her. After the weeks they'd spent living together, or her wondering and hoping, she just couldn't take it anymore. So she waited for him that night, sitting in the living room with a book she very clearly wasn't reading, waiting for when he would come home. There were things she needed to say, questions she needed to ask, even if she doubted that she would like any of the answers he might have to give her.

ᴏᴘᴇɴ ﹣ ᴡᴏʀᴋᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ

[ it's been a weird day. first there's been the weird message, and then everyone else seemed on edge, or over the edge, or maybe under it in particularly special cases... he doesn't know; people have never traditionally been something he ever claimed to be a strong suit, intuitive as he is about other things.

there's a particularly irritating desktop he's working on restoring - what data he's recovered so far has more or less depressed him into not actually wanting to keep working on recovering data, even though he will bc he has no actual reason not to - and as a result he's probably been paying a slightly-higher-than-average amount of attention to people who've wandered into the store. please, distract him from this specific version of boredom where he has things to do, but you're just more interesting

anyway, he's only just keyed into whatever it is you're doing. it seems... weird... ] So! How does Moses make his tea? [ great icebreaker! ]

ᴄʟᴏsᴇᴅ ﹣ ʜᴏᴍᴇ-ɪsʜ

[ it's probably an important call. it would be a shame if he missed it, right?

so tony actually answers the phone. it helps that there's no one else immediately nearby, and that he's only in his workshop when it comes in, because it's not that unusual for him to be there at really any given hour and also because the call doesn't really come in at any hour that couldn't be considered easily given anyway. he couldn't really care all that much less about civic pride, but the flooding was something that was marginally important to him, and far more-so than that, he hates being out of the loop, so hearing multiple other phones nearby in the 'burbs all ringing at the same time is really what cinches things.

the actual message itself honestly... it takes a while for him to work out what about it seemed so unusual, because it was weird, sure, he flagged that, but. it's not that weird, and it's not that long before anything comes of it, but it's long enough to have pretty much forgotten all about the message in the first place.

there's something he's working on a few hours later, and then suddenly he remembers clinical hands, the shiver of metal and the scorch of sand; the chill of stone and the heat of observation. there's pain and there's numbness, and there's a steady murmur and mumble of words he can't understand or make out either way. two memories slam in completely at once, and he drops whatever the hell it is he's holding and covers his face with his hands for a few seconds in an attempt to mitigate the sudden input. ]

[ following dinner pepper decides to turn in for the night, because the strangeness she recalled and the mini meltdown that resulted had taken a lot out of her. she leaves tony to his work to retire, more or less collapsing on their bed the moment she's in range. it doesn't take her long to fall asleep, but when she stirs a few hours later and finds tony still hasn't come to bed she can't help but frown. ]

[ it's not the end of the world, no, but she might still be craving his closeness and the comfort it brings her. sitting up and rubbing he sleep out of her eyes she throws her legs over the side of the bed and stands. she knows where to find him, of course, which is why she ends up at his workshop. lingering in the door she's content just to watch him, a small smile turning on her lips as a few minutes pass. ] Tony.

[ she steps inside, bare feet carrying her towards him in a silence that's short lived. he startles her when he drops what he's got in hand, the lack of care drawing her attention to his looking frustrated or distressed or... it doesn't matter. she doubles her efforts and reaches him in no time, ] Tony. [ she sets a hand on his back to let him know she's here, the other sliding around his middle and pulling him back into her. fingers climb to his chest to cover his heart as she squeezes. ] You're tired... [ that may or may not be the case, but she's not jumping to conclusions. ]

[ tony does a marvelous job of only jumping a little bit when he feels hands sliding around him, peeling his own away from his face enough to look down and see very familiar, very petite fingers and arms starting to encircle his torso. she slides a palm over his heart and he lets one of his hands drop to cover it and hold it there, because something ought to be there, something needs to - it's stupid, he feels dumb for even having the thought, because it's his heart, of course it needs to be protected, but he just has this feeling that's almost panic about it, and his heart feels like it's going to beat right out of his chest and he might need some help holding it in place.

he turns his head enough to breathe her in, and it has the side effect of leaning back into her just a little bit - grounding, in the sense and feel of her. he'll probably never really be able to tell her what a tether she is, and in all honesty he's not sure he would want to. she's aware enough, and if she really knew the full scope of the role she filled then it might be too much. 'you're all i have' covers it well enough, even if he doesn't know why he's thinking that.

anyway, she tells him he's tired, and he's hitting the steep part of the curve now, coming down so hard from the adrenaline and anxiety that he almost laughs. almost. instead, he looks down at where her hands are resting on him, moving his other hand to hold her arm. stay. ]

You really shouldn't be in here without shoes on.

[ that, there, is one of the reasons she hadn't embraced him immediately... as much as she would have liked to. he was on edge, that much was clear, and exacerbating things wasn't her intention. and though his hand on her hand has her smiling, it's not nearly enough to placate her concerns. she applies a bit more pressure, a reminder, of sorts, that she's there and hoping to calm him, the erratic beating of his heart making her own skip. ]

[ as the tension starts to dissolve and she feels him move in her arms pepper tips her head down and kisses his crown. he doesn't need to share. she knows, at least to some extent, that he relies on her as much as she relies on him. to some, and maybe even him, it might seem a bit one sided... but he plays a very important role in her life too. their relationship, personal and professional, has always been different, but she wouldn't have it any other way. ]

No, maybe not, [ she leans down a bit further, her lips grazing his ear as she continues, ] but it was a risk I was willing to take. [ planting a kiss on his cheek a moment later she circles him, her hand, not once, moving from his heart. ] What happened?

(The school, open to students or teachers or anyone there.)
[For some reason a phone ringing is still entirely foreign to Leia's mind, so it takes her a moment to realize that's what the buzzing sound is that seems to be filling the neighborhood. More than that, there seems to be an undercurrent of fear right below her heart and she can't help but wonder where it came from. It shouldn't come from her, but somehow it did.

The politician in her listens to the speech, and she's reminded of other speeches that she'd heard elsewhere, the same halting patterns giving rise to the same sorts of thoughts that someone was making them do this. The Empire was what her brain floated towards her, but she pushed it away, along with the idea of a Senate that had hovering platforms so that everyone could speak.

But once she sets the phone down, the pain in her chest seems to explode outward and she gasps as she holds it for a moment, things flashing in her head. Everything feels wrong now, and it doesn't seem to just feel wrong for her. Waves of despair prick across her brain and a memory threatens to surface of another time when she was held prisoner and people did things to her. Leia presses that down, along with all of the other feelings that go along with it, both her own and not.

In the end, it's all she can do to head to the school and leave her door open when her office didn't have someone in it. Leia remembered it was something that she did here, and that kids could come with her when they had a problem. Today, she was expecting both kids and teachers to have a lot of problems. And helping people with their problems meant that she didn't need to think about her own.]

(Evening at the bar, open to anyone else.)
[Leia Organa doesn't often head to the bar these days. She's not someone who prefers to drink outside of her house, and the bar itself has too many memories mixed up in it that belong to her being with Han. Oh, she doesn't avoid Han's memory, but when you drink with a scoundrel like that, no one else ever seems to match up to it. Besides, it's probably not a good idea to be out drinking often when you're the Vice-Principal of the town's only school.

But tonight Leia doesn't want to go home to an empty house with nothing to keep her busy. If she doesn't keep busy she's going to need to think about things. If she needs to think about things of her own then she's going to go completely insane. So it's how she finds herself at the bar, looking at the tender and ordering:]

Scotch. Neat. And don't give me the cheap stuff, I still remember when you were in school there, kiddo.

[It was a threat, and benign one probably, made with her tongue firmly in cheek. Her hair was down tonight, but she was still open for the listening business. She was open for most anything as long as she didn't need to think about herself.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

( may event ) sudden recall

Pepper Potts, May 15th, open & closed.

Clary's House

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closed, bc hey i have a key right here

key to my heart.

<3

alt+3.

♥ !! omg i had to try it and see what it did bc i forgot that whole convo

less than three. also, how did you forget. that conversation was, like, a million years long!

well i /remembered it/ once the thing did the thing, okay, hush

never ♥²

shhhhhhhHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH (they're listening)

let them listen... and watch, apparently 💕 !

Logan | May 15th | Closed & Open

school - teacher's lounge

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tony stark [ open / closed ]

ish.

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Leia Organa May 15th, open