(openish | prison log) lock our eyes on distant horizons

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Date & Time: Nov. 19th - ??? at least several days, tbd
Location: Empty housing in the West Wing.
Characters: Arrested mutineers & visitors (potentially YOU)
Summary: Everyone locked up some mutineers so now they're slightly stuck in place.
Warnings: there will probably be discussion of violence and death, will add if necessary.

[ Mutineers have been put in some of the empty rooms in the West Wing, one guard at a time on the hallway and the doors only able to be opened from the outside for now. Roslyn and whoever else she can get to volunteer are rotating guard duty.

They have been set four to a room for the moment.

Cell 1: Charlie, Connor, Max, and very briefly Sev
Cell 2: Chloe, Marie, Tempest, Bond
Cell 3: Sev (after not long at all)
Cell 4: Jesse (after taking Tempest's powers)

Visitors are allowed, but please note that anyone who had at any point been advocating violence against the mutineers in a place where Roslyn is likely to have seen it will absolutely not be allowed near them. Visits will be supervised and in a separate room from the cells for the sake of privacy, with the door open and a guard within easy eyesight  and earshot of any raised voices. 

Mutineers will start without access to their tablets but will regain access within approximately a day to two days. However! These tablets will be temporarily unable to encrypt messages. Private messages to personal inboxes are still accessible but on the network itself all their interaction must be public.

Guards on Duty: Roslyn, Riku, Raiden, Wesley Mitchell, Travis Marks, Seras Victoria, Caspian. Working on 6 hour rotations, so each guard is on approximately once every 1 1/2 days.

If you have any questions about confinement etc just let me know! ]

Comments

[hyanaimne]

[tentatively, she peeks her hand out to reach across for him and grab the one that just hit the ground]

Yes. My own fault, I did not realize it until it was a bit too late.

[werewolfing]

[he lets her take his hand and do whatever she likes with it, although the look he gives her when she does is a mix of curiosity and confusion. peter is, in general, all about peter, but this is really not about peter.]

You're getting better?

[hyanaimne]

[Tempest would like for it to be all about Peter, because that would mean the topic would not be about her instead. Maybe she can steer this into stupid conversations about their asses again]

Mm, slowly. I do not encounter that kind of magic often, so I am not very used to it.

[werewolfing]

The more you know, I guess.

[peter really wishes he knew what to do at all. tempest seems slightly less miserable, maybe, but he can't really count it a victory when he doesn't even really know why he's doing this. he's stopped making sense to himself lately. he exhales slowly.]

Don't really know what to do.

[hyanaimne]

[with a sigh, she lets her head thunk on his shoulder. She really had no idea how to answer him, because she wasn't sure what he meant. No - she knew, but it was one of those things she just . . . didn't want to think about. She didn't want to end up upsetting herself again]

What you are doing now is fine. [she squeezes his hand, and attempts a weak joke] I am much warmer than I was.

[werewolfing]

[he snorts at that and pats her head.]

Being a space heater is amongst my many talents.

[hyanaimne]

[she snorts as well]

It is a good talent.

[werewolfing]

Glad to be of service.

[hyanaimne]

[that's an invitation as any to press right up against him. She lets her eyes close]

Mm . . . thank you. [quiet, but earnest]

[werewolfing]

[he moves enough to accommodate her and lets out a quiet breath, the kind that could be amused but really isn't.]

Doesn't take anything special to maintain a normal body temperature.

[he knows that's not what she means. but he doesn't know how to be thanked for something that he doesn't know why he's doing. or doesn't want to admit he knows why he's doing. or something. he's still getting used to the idea of isaac having gotten under his skin, and isaac is enough like roman that there's sort of a place carved out for him already. tempest is something else, without a niche to fit into, and he can't really excuse this away or pretend it's not happening, that he's not sitting in a cage for someone else again, even if the door is still open for him.

which doesn't stop him from sitting there on the floor of this cage, practically hugging her and letting her soak up whatever warmth and comfort she can find there.]

[hyanaimne]

[she really isn't one to seek out comfort or warmth. Had she ever needed to, she would find somewhere private to cry, out of sight from anyone she was with, and in a place no one would stumble on. She usually dealt with these sort of things by herself, if it ever got to this point. Deal with or push it down, even if it made it all worse.

But it's been offered, and she doesn't want to move. She can only imagine how Peter feels, being in here with her - she sure as hell doesn't want to be in here, but she's stayed; both because breaking herself out would only make it worse, and because the others were here. Because this was supposed to have been a non-violent protest and she was not going to resort to it now, because it still wasn't over.

She releases his hand with a brief squeeze and once again hides it underneath her cloak]

Must be nice to have a normal one.

[werewolfing]

[he's trying really hard not to think about it, not to think about any of it even though he can see the little ripples spreading. steph, afraid of people with certain kind of powers, including him. jesse taking tempests powers away for no apparent reason beyond her participation in something that didn't come to violence, even though she wasn't making any attempt to use them. peter's not going within ten feet of jesse now, not if he can help it. not when jesse could just snatch his lycanthropy away.

the whole of exsilium drawing lines in the sand, committing little acts that won't be forgiven. and he's doing it too. it's all so fucking depressing.

so he doesn't talk about that.]

Can't say I ever gave it that much thought, but you've got a point. Are you from someplace tropical or something?

[hyanaimne]

[it's probably for the best, that they don't talk about lines being drawn and how all of this is going to end up just getting worse. Idle conversation about things of no importance are much, much better]

No, I am not. [there's a touch of sheepishness to her voice; she's never really spoken of this to anyone. But that shouldn't be surprising by now] I just don't take to the cold very well. I was always sick as a child, so I've always assumed it was from that.

[werewolfing]

Oh, makes sense. I was outside all the damn time. Never got sick much. Rumanceks are hardy, I guess.

[hyanaimne]

I was outside often, too, but . . . [it's hard to explain things she never has before, in a language she's never explained as much in] I was born in winter? And I was . . . early, I think.

[werewolfing]

Oooh, I get it. Premature, that's the word for babies born early.

[hyanaimne]

Oh. I hadn't known there was a word . . .

But mm, that is why. I am actually on the smaller side for someone of my kind.

[werewolfing]

Learning new things.

If you're short, meeting someone tall seems like it'd be a perpetual neck-ache.

[hyanaimne]

[she ducks her head a bit, but if Peter looks over, she's smiling a little]

Sometimes. But I do not normally get close enough to have to look up at them.