semi-closed

[queenofseers]

WHO: Residents and visitors to Maurtia Falls #004
WHERE: Maurtia Falls #004
WHEN: Second half of May
WHAT: Catch-all log for various residents and guests following and leading up to various stressful things
WARNINGS: Likely some mild body horror/illness as well as references to brain surgery because of 622 and Rex, more will be added if needed


There’s a sense of worry in the household, these days. It’s still obviously calm and orderly- Rex and Martin live here, after all- but a number of problems seem to have encroached on the residents, both suddenly and not. Meals will get made, and dishes will get done, but everyone has something on their mind.

There’s guests, for one, and one is recovering from literally having a chip removed from his brain- that’d be concerning enough if there wasn’t yet another person in the house who needs to go through the same thing. And that guest isn’t the only one feeling ill; there’s another sick person in the house, and she’s not exactly in recovery. Add all these stresses together, and things don’t exactly seem well.

It could probably be worse; most of the people staying here care deeply about each other, after all. But there won’t be calm for long. If this even counts as calm.

Comments

possum wife vs clone husband

[killtime]

What the fuck, Rex —

[ Okay. She'll admit it. She wasn't expecting that. And now she probably looks a little stupid, standing there scowling with her hands poised as if she were still holding her communicator. The delay before she thinks to let her hands drop to her sides is slightly embarrassing — but to be fair, she's never really fought with Rex before. Not like this. Not when it didn't simply boil down to them aggressively caring about each other.

This? This is just petty. Mostly on her part. Maybe she's acting out? Maybe she doesn't want to think about it. ]

Really? What are we, fucking twelve —

[ Oh. Wait. ]

[ct_7567]

Thirteen, thank you.

[ Rex scowls at her. He'd like to think he's not quick to lose his temper, but this? After everything that's been going on? This is the last thing any of them need, least of all him - least of all 622. ]

And you started it.

[ Well, she did. ]

What exactly do you think is going to happen?

[killtime]

Oh, right, thirteen. [ ROLLING HER EYES SO HARD SHE NEARLY STROKES OUT ] Because as a seven millenia old immortal, I clearly give a shit about the distinction of a single fucking year.

[ She does, of course. A year in his life means the world to her. But that's not even the point. She's just spitting venom now, just to be mean. Just because she can and because it makes her feel marginally better to have some choice in behaving like a temperamental child when everything else is spinning wildly out of her control. ]

I'm not the one advertising the fact that you're susceptible to brain control on the Network, okay? [ She gestures with frustration at where her yeeted communicator now lays on the floor. ] If it were anybody else, you'd let me be pissed off. You wouldn't be in here fucking lecturing me.

[ct_7567]

[ The truth of the matter is that the year doesn't mean a hell of a lot to Rex either. He'd only realized that the year had passed after someone else had pointed it out to him, and he sure as hell doesn't expect Andy to give a damn. That doesn't hurt. Her disrespect does. ]

Yeah. Maybe I would. But it's not anybody else. That's my brother in there, and he needs me now more than ever. I'll be damned if I let another thing weigh on him.

[ He gestures wildly in the direction of 622's room. ]

How do you expect him to react? He just had brain surgery, for god's sake! He's not in his right mind!

[killtime]

You know what, Rex? You're allowed to be pissed. I don't care. But I don't want the fucking excuses. Whatever made him do it, he still fucking did it — and if you had any real enemies, they wouldn't just give us a pass because your brother recently had the inside of his skull aerated.

[ She waves her hand dismissively, irritated and unapologetic and rude as ever. She's not even looking at him anymore. Her eyes are hard, pointed elsewhere. ]

There are two fucking problems here, Captain, and neither of them is me. First? You'll justify whatever stupid shit you have to, as long as the person doing it is someone you're loyal to. Apparently that includes 622 exposing your brain-chipped ass on a public forum. Second: You don't give a shit about yourself. Which is annoying for me, who gives about a shit and a half.

So be pissed, if you want. But I'm not fucking sorry. And I'm not wrong either.

[ct_7567]

And if I had enemies, the fault would be with them, not my brother.

[ He steps forward, pushing his finger into her chest, leaning in close. It doesn't appear that he's trying to intimidate her despite looming over her - it would never occur to him to try; he knows damn well that Andy's faced down far more intimidating things than a single clone who's been thoroughly run into the ground - but he feels no need to hold back his physicality either. ]

You don't get to make those judgments for me. I can look after myself. I survive. I have always survived. And I'm going to survive this too. [ He doesn't say it out loud, but he knows Andy can hear it, that little underpinning to this whole thing, this awareness that out of everyone here, he's the only one who's been here this long without being touched by the spectre of death. He's outlived Jedi. He's outlived gods. And he's outlived Andy too, immortal as she is.

This isn't about him. It can't be. Because the last time he checked, he's been doing just fine. ]

If I justified anything from those I'm loyal to, I'd be justifying your behaviour too. But here we are. Because you're wrong. I'm not foolish enough to go after anyone who had a lapse of judgment after a week of nothing but loss. Seems to me like you're the only one doing that.

gremlin & anyone

[darkov]

o1.
[he'd said good-bye to his childhood home, making an effort to actually put a proper close on the chapter of his life defined by it. he's sure he ought to be relieved to keep his eyes forward on the things of here and now.

kind of hard when the atmosphere in his proper home is getting more and more tense as time ticks down on Cassandra's clock. to speak nothing of Rex's brother here. and Kanan not here. and Poe gone. and Bodhi gone. and--

Martin stops in the middle of dishes, feeling a wave of unease fill him up, overtake, and then settle in him. he breathes out slowly and steady, just as Kanan taught him, lifting his head to peer out the window over the sink.

it's fine. it's...it'll be fine.]

...It'll be fine.



o2.
[one of the few things that feel at all useful to do besides clean is make tea and coffee, and so that's what he'll do -- whether on command or at the sound of people coming home. it's easy. he can do that. it helps, right?

he'll do it again, hearing the door open and close; he just needs to peek out and see who it is first, whether it's one drink or the other...]


o3.
Puh-!

[he spits, head hovering over his glass, a quarter-full of a foul, black mess. that might be the last of it; his stomach doesn't feel any more rotten, so, probably.

instead of going inside to wash up, Martin chooses to fish out the garden hose and do so out in the yard, far, far from the concrete landing at the back door. the further he can keep his disgusting habits away from them, the better. even the fence line at 3am doesn't feel like far enough, though; maybe he can find some forgotten spot along his walking routes. not as safe, but...safer for them. his family.

in the meantime, garden hose it is.]

[ct_7567]

[ It's been a lot. And for all that he tries to shield Martin from trouble, there's only so much he can do. Martin knows Kanan left. Martin knows that 622 went through some intensive surgery and that Danger is here to help, though he hasn't yet told Martin why or what it is. And Martin knows, of course, that Cassandra is dying.

Which is why it's up to Rex to be a pillar of strength. But even he can't hold up as well as he'd like to; while he doesn't let Martin know any of his anxieties, it's impossible not to notice Rex's tight, drawn expression, the crease of his forehead, the way he goes quiet and still and stares at nothing - which isn't so different for him, just more frequent.

But, God help him, he's trying. He approaches Martin from behind, setting his hand on his shoulder. ] Yeah, [ he says quietly. ] It will be.

[ It won't be. ]

If you need to leave for a time, you can, [ he says. ] We can. You've been a great help, but that doesn't mean you can't take a break.

[ And Martin has been. Go talk to Cassandra, he told Martin when he needs her to be busy so he can go into her room and clean up her sick and sweaty sheets and make sure things are cleaned up before she retires in her room again. Go keep Danger company, he was told when he had to be kept underfoot and when Rex didn't particularly feel like hearing Danger's commentary on their rapidly splintering home. Take Cassandra this, he'd tell him when Cassandra was in too foul a mood to bear being fussed over any longer, but he knows she can never deny him.

Hell, Martin helps him. For all his worries about shielding him from this, his company is a welcome balm from the procedures. ]

[darkov]

[Martin startles a bit, the dish dropping out of his hands and back into the tub. he recovers quickly enough, glancing up over his shoulder. Rex...

he looks really tired. and grim -- he tends to wear a straight face, but this one is different thanks to the circumstances. it hurts to see an expression more suited to Olvoski than here, but there's been plenty of that to go around.

all the more reason to look unconvinced by the suggestion to go.]

Sir, I...I belong here. Where everyone else is.

[of course, not everyone is. that stings, too.

he swallows, looking back down as he rinses the dish off and puts it on the drying rack.

the prospect of leaving brings to mind when he had before -- off to the mountains. that didn't last very long at all, did it?]

I don't want to go anywhere.

[ct_7567]

Of course you belong here. And if you wish to stay, then you will. But you needn't leave for long - a day's break, perhaps. I'm sure Kanan would appreciate the company. I can even accompany you for a time. Danger has things well in hand.

[ But if he wants to stay, Rex knows he can't combat that - shouldn't, after they'd tried so hard to convince Martin that he belongs here. Now that he finally feels that way, look at what's become of them. What's a kid like him supposed to do with all those mixed messages?

He glances off, out the window that looks over their backyard, as tidy as it ever is. ]

I... worry. I know this has been a difficult time.

[ It can't be good for Martin. God knows it hasn't been good for Rex. ]

[darkov]

[difficult certainly is a word for it. Martin can't say he's ever watched anyone die so slowly -- not even as Peklabog. he always came right at the last few breaths for that.

those dying people are quite often in mind as this goes on, and Martin can only wonder if any of their whispers are at all like what's going on in Cass' head now. not the best state of mind to be in, but the asks to ferry drinks or fetch food provide some break here and there.

it's as much a break as he's sure he could handle. as much as Rex could stand, too, probably; if anyone is truly feeling the weight of this besides Cass, Martin assumes it's him.

all the more reason to stay. help, somehow.

but of course, dismissing Rex's offer is not something he can do. learning to say no to things doesn't mean saying no to him.]

I can go if you want me to. Or want to. I don't mind either way.

[he looks toward Rex.]

I'd...rather do what you tell me to. This time. Please. [he doesn't know how to navigate this otherwise.]

[ct_7567]

I don't want you to go.

[ It's all he can say for a moment. He looks tired. He feels tired. And he knows that perhaps Martin shouldn't be here, but what would happen if he sent him away? It'd be saying that he doesn't want the boy. That's the first thing that's always going to be on his mind. What's best for Martin.

But there's another part of him that likes having Martin around, even during times like this, even during things Martin should never have to bear witness to, not at such a young age, not when he'd already gone through so much. Even so, he's like a balm on everything else that's so terribly, eager to help in ways he can, staying underfoot and quietly taking care of everything he's always taken care of. Hell, Rex likes just knowing he's nearby. They've never been separated for long. Only when Rex had ported out and that other time, when Martin had left for but a day and Rex had immediately lost whatever sense he had in that skull of his and went on a post-battle excursion just to bring him back. ]

Let's go for awhile. An hour or two. Just you and me.

[ He can, however, get Martin out of the damn house. Maybe they can talk properly then, when they're not so stifled by everything else that's going on, everything else that seems far more important than the two of them. ]

open to anyone

[stlg13bomber]

Carter is in the throes of future shock, and he's trying to find ways to put things in terms that he understands. He has a house, or he will have a house once Maurtia Falls #003 is finished being rebuilt, and that house has houses next to it, which means neighbors, which means Carter needs to be neighborly. Especially when Mr. 622 (or was it Mr. TK?) was having some unclear but deeply troubling medical problems going on.

So while Poe's out Carter raids his fridge and pantry, and puts together a simple but edible stew. He finds a glass dish to put it in, buys some French bread because LeBeau's instilled in him that soup and bread go together, and takes the entire array in a basket to house #004. One arm balances the food while he leans and hits the doorbell (or what is hopefully a doorbell?) with the other.

[killtime]

It's probably Carter's bad luck that, of all the friendly and welcoming people that live in Maurtia Falls #004, it's the one mean bitch that comes to answer the door. Andy has what could, in kind terms, be called a naturally severe face. Even worse, between this business with the brain chips and Cassandra's impending doom, what little generosity of spirit she does have has been crushed beneath the heel of overwhelming stress — which has fixed her face into an even less charitable expression than usual.

That's the face that greets Carter: Deadpan, tired, and vaguely impatient.

She gives him a skeptical once over before finally speaking.

"Yeah?"

[stlg13bomber]

She'll find the opposite of that face staring back at her - chipper, eager, pleasant, and just so happy to meetcha.

"Hi, miss! I'm Andrew, I'm from the next house over. Or at least I would be, if it hadn't burned down, but once they fix it I'll be from the next house over." He hefts the container in his hands. "I brought over some soup. Thought I'd be neighborly, since we're neighbors, or will be soon."

[killtime]

"...Okay. Andrew from the house that burned down," she exhales, eyebrows pinching a little as if the mere act if interacting with another human being is an exertion of energy she can barely afford right now. "Guess you better come in then."

Andy steps back to let him by her. Maybe she should be more cautious about letting strangers into the house, but fuck it. She's basically immortal and is willing to throw down at almost any given moment. Besides, he brought soup. When was the last time Rex and Martin ate something? She's not even sure.

"So, whose person are you?"

He must be someone's. Cassandra's, maybe? She can barely keep track anymore.

[stlg13bomber]

"Uh." Carter had to stop - literally, stop in place in the middle of the hallway with soup in hand - to think about the answer to that question.

"I guess the American government?" he said after a few moments of intense thought. Or Jesus? Could be Jesus.

[loyal_soldier]

'Up and about' does not quite describe 622's state right now. He's not presently asleep. That's a start. He doesn't need the bacta patch on his head anymore, so everything external's healed up. Just got a weird little shaved bit that's growing in stubble. And he's not in bed right now either, he's on the couch.

But for someone who's used to waking up at bugger o'clock each morning for a run, he is neither up nor particularly about.

And he's hungry. Can't remember when he last ate. Which doesn't mean much, he keeps forgetting things right now.

He's definitely eaten oatmeal. There's a lot of that in this house, though, so he has no idea what day that was.

...What was he thinking about?

So by the time Carter makes it into the house, holding the perfect reminder of what he really should be doing, he's happy to see him.

"Sergeant Carter. Everything alright?"

[stlg13bomber]

After Carter fights his way through several confused housemates, he manages to find his way into the kitchen and is contentedly hunting up a pot to heat up the soup on the stove.

...he's been here barely a week, no one's explained microwaves to him yet.

"Heya! How're you feeling? Head doing any better? I brought you some soup. And bread!" He gestures at the french bread, as if it was somehow very important to the undertaking.

[loyal_soldier]

"It's healing up. Between my bacta and the nanites, it shouldn't take long," he replies, doing his best to give Carter a small smile. He'd only briefly been introduced, leaving his only defining memory of Carter being the image of the man walking straight past him and into their burning hab unit. Given that, the earnest friendliness comes as a real surprise, but it's not unwelcome either. The whole house has been on edge, and part of it's his own fault.

And sitting down all day's been driving him mad. He pulls himself up to his feet, slow and careful. "Good food's always welcome here." He's been lying about, but it's still hard to keep up with his metabolism with the state he's in right now.

Speaking of. "If I say something I've already said before, it's because my memory's taken a hit while my brain heals up. It should be temporary." Should be. It still gave him a little sick twist in his stomach, to pick up on someone's tone and realize they're reciting something they've said before. It's doing better than it was just after the surgery, but he can't wait for it to be over.

Food will help. "I'm not sure I've had that kind of bread before. Why is it that long?"

[stlg13bomber]

"You know, I'm not sure. I guess they just have really long ovens in France or something." He'd need to ask LeBeau when he got back to camp. Carter holds his hand a few inches over the soup, trying to test the heat.

"But I'm glad you're healing up well. I've never had brain surgery before, the whole concept's kind of impressive to me. Poe said you were getting something removed?"

[ct_7567]

After 622 had essentially let the entirety of the public know that he had a mind control chip in his head, after Cassandra's extended illness, after 622's surgery, Rex is, as he'd say, a little on edge. He's not expecting to get any strangers as guests anytime soon, and that's obvious from the moment he opens the door and looks Carter up and down as though he's someone who requires that sort of scrutiny.

He's not much to look at on the surface, but people rarely are. The other notable thing is, likely, that Rex is nearly identical to 622 - he's got blond hair shaved down to his scalp and a couple more scars and 622's a bit more stockily built than he is, but that's about it.

"Hello," he says slowly. "Who are you, then?"

[stlg13bomber]

Between Poe and Akobi Carter had gotten a really, really general overview of things like 'wars in space' and 'clones' and 'wars with clones in them'. Carter estimated he'd understood about half of it, and that was probably an overly ambitious estimation.

"Andrew. I brought soup." He stops and stares at the man in the doorway, who looks very similar to the man he'd seen in passing and to whom he was now bringing said soup. "Hey, uh, weird question. Are you related to 622? You two really look alike."

[ct_7567]

"We're brothers."

It's the same line that Rex feeds everyone, really. He doesn't hide that he's a clone, nor is he particularly ashamed of it, but he doesn't care to give the full explanation to everyone for his patience's sake alone. And these days, his patience is in short supply.

They're brothers. Close enough.

"You're a friend of his? He hasn't mentioned you."

[stlg13bomber]

"Sort of? I'm assigned at the same house as Commander Akobi. I didn't know he had a brother, they told me he was a..." Carter furrows his brow as things start to process in his head. It's a slower process than it ought to be. The soup in his hand gently ripples back and forth as he shifts his stance.

"Wait, but if he's a clone, how does he have brothers? They said they made him in a big batch...oh! Were you made in a batch too?" Carter looks back up again, face bright, as if being a clone is the neatest thing. "Like, an older batch?"