WEEK 13 - 01010000 01000001 01011001 00100000 01011001 01001111 01010101 01010010 00100000 01010010

[al2955]

the pygmalion. . . ONLINE CAPTAIN'S LOG: WEEK (13)

saturday (10) survivors Something is different. You can feel it in the air: an ominous presence that weighs down the ship like it's underwater. Try as you might, you can't escape the feeling that you're being watched, the sensation of someone just out of view tailing you. Tensions are high, and paranoia grows with it. You feel it more than see it, and that's what warps your perception of the ship. Is it darker? Are the lights dimming? Who is it that calls out to you? Why is it so cold? Who can you trust? The distinct sensation of not knowing who your back is to wraps around you. There is one thing you can trust in, however; though you feel exposed, you are not alone. Mother is here for you. taken list profiles private conversations setting rulebook ENTER COMMAND_

Comments

[qundercover]

[Bull sits back himself for a minute, as the buzzing in his head from the imperfect resurrection returns in full force now that adrenaline isn't fueling him entirely. He feels a little weak, though he'd never admit it. He will admit he will miss that very cool dream axe.]

If it helps, I'll still be here when you leave this time.

[tevinteriscoming]

It helps.

[Dorian shoots him a crooked, tired smile, but nothing more; he wants to concentrate on getting rid of the illusion. He places each of his hands on Bull's forearms, takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and focuses, as he's been taught to do when dealing with dreams of the Fade. The illusion begins to vanish around him, the dark room giving way to the biolab and his bloodied hands clean.

It takes only a minute before it's gone. He notes the cool, stale air of the ship and, without opening his eyes, leans forward and rests his forehead against his chest, soaking in how solid that presence is that he had expected to vanish with the dream.]

Better? Tell me if you see any stray metaphors lying about I've neglected to do away with.

[qundercover]

[This is romantic, but Dorian is definitely face to face with Bull's mild but sexy injury - it turns out one or two stray metaphors might be a little more permanent. Bull doesn't seem to mind it, or really even notice it. He lets his face rest on top of Dorian's head, because it's nice to feel so physically present again here. It was all too infuriatingly brief the last time.]

Better. Think you managed to mop most of 'em up.

[tevinteriscoming]

[Ugh. Well, he may have just recovered from a nightmare and also have been reunited with Bull after a month, but he doesn't want blood in his hair. Pulling away and frowning at it, but not much. He's got a worse one.

He's suddenly aware that there are other people around them, and that sets him mildly panicking; he's uncomfortable with PDA. Habits long ingrained that if he were going to do this sort of thing, he absolutely must not be caught, and the sort of consequences the many times he has been caught. Much worse when it's this, being a romantic rather than merely hedonist; he'd rather be caught out as a degenerate than he would as a fool.

But the aftertaste of his nightmare is still with him, intended to shame him, instead, making him defiant. He has many flaws, of that he is aware, but this, this isn't one of them. This isn't wrong, it isn't some sort of rot to be excised. The phantom itch of the shame he's supposed to feel, that this nightmare was intended to tug on, is still there, and will probably always be there, but it isn't real. And he doesn't want to allow his father the power to deny him this.

A real, genuine, open-hearted smile for him, for this man who cared for him so unreservedly and deserves nothing but the same.]

So, here at last, are you? Better late than never, I suppose.

[And tugging his face down into a kiss.]