exsiliumlogs | (open) mission: hit the beach

Entry tags:

(open) mission: hit the beach

Date & Time: July 18th-24th, Exsilium Time
Location: Sea Shore during the Late Cretaceous Period
Characters: All! Oh those pesky mandatory missions.
Summary: In lieu of the success of the space shuttle's test flight, all of the Transports have been sent back to the Cretaceous period to gather mineral supplies and volcanic rock, while doubling as a sort of 'vacation' and chance to get Transports out of the Initiative's hair. With well stocked supplies, camping gear, and more burlap sacks than anyone could possibly ever use, the Transports have been set under a protective dome and told to collect what they can... and to enjoy the sunshine.
Warnings: Shenanigans!

The overflow log can be found HERE!

It's almost surreal, the quality of color, of light, of oxygen saturation in the air once people arrive. It's so rich that the Initiative sent people back with respirators, to help ease the transition, and warned those who would listen about the effects of too much oxygen on a system.

What they don't warn for is the sheer alien familiarity of the landscape, the warmth, the roughness of the sand on the beaches. This is not the fine, sandy beaches out of vacation dreams, but a rougher, larger granule sort, with shells that might be recognizeable as ancestors to ones those from Earth would remember washing up on familiar beaches, millions of years later.

Most striking is the lack of abundant wildlife found among the fronds and leaves and foliage, or underneath the surface of the saltier, much warmer waters extending off the beach. While acting as a permeable membrane to oxygen and water, along with the sorts of phytoplankton that kept sea creatures alive, all the larger animals had been pushed out by the Initiative's installment of the safety dome. Along the transparent walls, curious creatures would come close, peer in, tap against the barrier and run off if frightened, but very few were found inside at any size larger than that of a house cat. It was for the better in the long run.

Too bad that the Initiative didn't have ultra-violet blocking technology in their shielding. For all the atmosphere is in much better shape millions of years in the past, the sun is as strong as ever, and the unwary will be burned through and through if they're not careful.

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[ He'd been laughing too hard to hear the sound of Gilbert disrobing over the roar of the ocean, but Collette's questions make it clear-- ]

Oh my goodness!

[ He's up, on his feet, and skipping next to them, flapping his arms up and down as if he were some sort of gangly stork trying to take off. ]

Gilbert, whyyyyyy! How gallant! Sweeping off your shirt to save a lady's modesty--

[ Now he leaves off flapping and lays one hand, fingers splayed, on the small of Gilbert's naked back. ]

--or was it more for your own sake, hmm?

[ Never walk around with your arms full in front of Xerxes Break. ]

Hnnhg--?!

[WHY IS ANY OF THIS HAPPENING.

WHY CAN'T THEIR LIVES JUST BE NORMAL.

WHY DOES BREAK HAVE TO - EXIST.

He flinches terribly as she touches his scar, and though he doesn't seem like he's going to drop her, he still hunches his shoulders forward as though he's trying to hide his nakedness from her. Break is already aware of it all, even though he's currently without his sight. He'd had ten years to catalog everything about Gilbert and his ridiculous, awkward body, from his scars and superior height to his painfully embarrassing mannerisms and pathetic expressions. He doesn't need sight to know what's going on.

So the fact that he also touches him just pisses him off even more!]

--EVERYONE BE QUIET AND STOP TOUCHING ME!

[And that's all he's saying as he stomps up towards the ATV. He sounds a little angry, sure, but he's more flustered and mortified than actually pissed off. They can continue this conversation when everyone is clothed and sitting down and just - not in the damned sea.]

( Collette's hand jerks back at the flinch -- for all she's handsy and too inquisitive for anyone's good, pressing people to uncomfortable places isn't something she takes pleasure in. Between that, the hunching that she takes to be a sign of disgust with her, not the self-consciousness it is, and the shouting, she pulls her hands in close and goes stiff. Her tone's more stilted, though she tries laughing it off.

It's an awkward giggle of a laugh, but as she looks determinedly at her legs (if you worked, she told them quietly, this wouldn't be a problem, you know) it's easier to miss how Gilbert's reaction is closer to a teenager's than an adult's.

She's still not used to the discrepancies in adult behavior from what she expects, and what really is.

Thus all she has to say at the ATV is a quiet: )

Thank you.

( Without further direction. Set down on it, she can move for her own pack of supplies, all the while averting her eyes from Gilbert. She pauses (if set down) to carefully peels his shirt off and hand it back over. )

[ If Break had been attending to any of this, he might have suspected that something was off about Collette's reactions. But after Gilbert's outburst, he can't contain himself anymore. He laughs until he coughs, and then he's on his knees in the sand, holding his sides and still laughing.

It's almost enough to soothe his damaged pride. Almost.

By the time he calms down, Gilbert and Collette have moved off. He doesn't go looking for them; there's no need. Gilbert, if nothing else, is capable. Yes, that's right - capable. As he, himself, becomes increasingly useless...

He stands. Perhaps he'll try his luck in the water once more. This time he'll be more attentive to how far he's drifting out, and the direction of shore. He walks back into the sea. ]

[He's still breathing hard, face turning from anger to embarrassment and then eventually to shame. He shouldn't have yelled. He should have thought all of this through a little better, and above all he shouldn't have let Break get to him after all this. His chest and stomach suddenly ache with anxiety as he sets her down and finds his shirt being offered back to him, Break's laughter finally dying down in the distance.

Shit. He really screwed this up.

At first, he doesn't take the shirt back. He looks down at his body, touches the top of his scar (of which there are more on his chest and stomach, this is just the most obvious one, where his body looks like it was once sliced in half) where she'd touched a second ago. He's still tensed up, but he stands in front of her all the same.]

I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let Break get to me. It's not your fault, I'm...

[He sighs and then puts the shirt back on, slowly as his hands are trembling slightly. Once he's got it back on, he'll help her with hers, if she hasn't already found them.]

It happened ten years ago, it's fine now.

( She doesn't pull on clothing; just the towel she wraps around her shoulders and starts rubbing at her arms with, one at a time. There's a lot of awkward sand she'll have to find a way to deal with later, and the thought makes her grimace, but it's a small expression that passes as quickly as it comes on. )

It's kind of a hobby of his.

( She jokes, if she's still too quiet. She'd continued to avoid looking at him, focused on the terrycloth towel, her hand, anything else. The way sand clung to her legs in an almost disconnected fashion. Insidious, that sand is. )

What happened?

( Because she always asks. Even now, when she doesn't know exactly how to say sorry for something she hadn't intended to do, she inevitably asks.

Good going, Collette. )

[The truth is absolutely not what needs to be told here.

The truth, out of context without a world of information behind it, sounds terrible. How he'd been taken over by a Baskerville Chain, sliced through Oz's shoulder to spill his blood and open the pathway to the Abyss, only to finally come back into himself and realize what he'd done too late.

A thousand quick decisions came right after that, all of them meant to protect Oz from the messengers of the Abyss who were trying to drag him into it. A thousand decisions that couldn't save Oz from his inevitable fate, but left Gilbert nearly dead at his feet. He hadn't meant to step in front of Oz's sword the way that he had; he'd only meant to stop him from cutting down the man responsible for the terrible event, a person whose face Gilbert had only seen briefly, but long enough to know that Oz would regret killing if he had the chance. He'd only meant to stop him, he hadn't meant to force Oz to cut him from chest to hipbone and bleed out at his feet.

There's no context he could add to that would make anything about the truth any better, so he only says, as he buttons up his (slightly damp, slightly sandy) shirt:]

I was cut with a sword.

Woah.

( That gets her to look up, then away again, but not before it'd been clear what she was looking at Gilbert for -- wanting to see the extent of that. Now it's a scar with a story, something survived and placed down in history permanently, like any trauma wound, or the scars that have marked the turning of other friends to permanent life changes.

It's impromptu and blurted out, what she says next: )

I can't scar anymore.

( Not as a comparison: it's a statement on something that doesn't sit right with her. Some things were meant to be physical, not just carried on the heart or in the mind. She had no choice.

But maybe it was easier when people couldn't ask questions, and that's why she speaks. )

You're still very handsome. ( Yes! There! Compliments!!! It strikes her as exactly the wrong thing to say, but by jove, she'll just roll with it because she has no idea what else to babble on about. ) Girls totally dig scars. Especially big ones!

--Huh?

[That doesn't make much sense. Why wouldn't a person be able to scar? Some heal faster than others, but most of the time a scar is still left behind. Or maybe she means in some other way, a less literal way, like she's become too strong-willed to let anything scar her after all the war she's seen in this world or her own. Or maybe he's just thinking too far into her statement.

Either way he doesn't have a chance to think too deeply on it, because that 'compliment' makes him cringe and grasp his shirt with both hands so tightly that the fabric instantly wrinkles between his fingers.]

I-it's not meant to be impressive! Or attractive!

( Collette pulls at her towel, quirking up an eyebrow before glancing down again. It does make her laugh a little, light and breathy. Yeah. Things like that really weren't supposed to be, but... )

I didn't say that. But the way people see it when it's hidden is like a -- I dunno, a mark of you survivng. Or enduring, or something like that. It's part of you, and who you are. If they like you anyway, why wouldn't that just be another part of it?

( Not something to shy away from or decry as gross just because it's not a perfect example of untouched, unaltered, healthy human flesh.

Nothing personal tied up in that at all. )

[He doesn't realize the connection that she's making at first. He'd survived the strike, the gash in his skin, but what had come after had cut him so much deeper. His failure to protect Oz from being taken from him, his inability to explain to everyone what had happened, brushed off because after all who would believe his word over that of his lord? Break had told him as much: That's because you were nothing but a mere servant.

He rests his hand on top of his collarbone, fingers going slack as he starts to relax a little. At least those words are easier to digest than compliments on physical appearance, because these are ones that he can disagree with easier.]

There's nothing respectable about this scar.

[He turns his gaze back towards the ground in front of her.]

Are you sure you're okay? You weren't hurt in the water? I can find a doctor -

Bodies don't do respect on their own, you know. That's all in your head.

( Gee, they've both established exactly how fascinating anything but the other person is right now. It's too much of the awkwardness for her to embrace for long, and so it is that Collette looks back at his face (carefully, avoiding much more than a passing glance at his clothed torso, even with the damp spots from her bathing suit) and shakes her head. )

No, no, no doctors! I'm not hurt, Gilbert, I just can't walk. Break was teasing you, that's all, and I really hate having sand in all the uncomfortable places, so avoiding crawling was just sort of nice.

Especially since we don't have showers!

( she waves a hand to dismiss it all; dismiss what she can out of a structured, undeniable reality. she's not hurt. hurting, maybe, but that's on the inside, and she'll get to figuring how to handle that again when she's not afraid she might do something wickedly inappropriate like cry. )

[He doesn't understand what she means, not in the same way that she does. He takes it the wrong way, which seems to be a theme in this conversation, and assumes that she means he simply shouldn't be ashamed of the appearance of it, as so many people (especially nobility) are when they end up with a blemish on their body somewhere. It's not the part that bothers him, but it's good enough to pass off as a reason if only to drop that particular part of the conversation.]

No - I wasn't trying to--

[To point out that lack of walking part. Though that does beg the question what she was doing in the water to begin with. Was Break helping her? That could have ended up being dangerous! A wave could have crashed on them! Who knows if Break would have noticed it before it happened?!]

You didn't...want to back into the water, did you?

[It might be an offer. Maybe.]

( She looks at him, startled into almost-laughing at the idea. Um -- )

Only if it's bathwater, Gilbert!

( And it's like that's a dam finally breaking: Collette rolls the rest of how she feels up into tiny, insignificant things stashed away in the corners of her mind and just begins to laugh and laugh and laugh, hard enough that it's difficult to breath, and she almost starts to cry. )

Or the river, if we have to make do!

[Right, right, of course. He flinches at her laughter, clearly looking embarrassed for having asked the question in the first place when the answer was so obvious. (He thinks.)]

S-sorry! Er-

[He sounds like he wants to say something else, but cuts himself off before it gets past a single syllable.]

( it takes that time to gather herself again. she's not sure if she catches Gilbert cutting himself off, or just imagines it. )

Ahhahaha, aha, ha... yeah? What was that?

Nothing.

[Nothing worth repeating aside from the frantic voice in his head that begs for forgiveness while still wanting to dig a hole in the sand and disappear into it so he doesn't have to continue pretending he's not an awkward failure of a human being.

He glances over his shoulder, cautiously, as though he expects someone to sneak up on him. Probably Break.]

Never mind. I'm just - sorry for yelling.

It's okay. I didn't mean to feel you up like that.

( Feel his scar -- oh, whatever. He'll get what she means. (She hopes.) )

Break's probably going to try to get himself lost at sea again. And Oz -- I bet he's getting burned ever as we speak!

( You can go. It's fine. )

[He realizes that she's giving him a cue to leave, but he still asks just to be certain.]

Are you sure you'll be fine from here?

I've got my wheels! All four of them, even if they look a little different.

( Another smile, and she hopes her earnesty comes across in her voice. )

It's okay, Bertie. I can take care of myself! Thanks for the lift.

[It still takes him another second before he finally turns halfway away from her, looks back out towards the water.]

I'll come to your camp to check on you before everyone goes to sleep.

( she gives him another smile, slight mischievous. )

Plan on singing me a lullaby?

( but it's a light tease, without much energy behind it. )

I'll see you then! Be careful.

I promise I won't!

[Collette you're embarrassing! He hides his face with one hand and starts back for the water.]

See you...

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(open) mission: hit the beach

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