OPEN | Station Log

[heroooic]

CHARACTERS: Finn & You!
LOCATION: All around the ship
DATE: Immediately post-Aldyhion and onward
CONTENT: Teen brooding, teen helping, teen anxiety!
WARNINGS: Some light gore (blood mentions), will update if any others arise

I. ARRIVAL (closed to close CR)

[ A blinding flash and a stomach turning pop of shifting atmosphere and… they’re back on Ximilia. The crumbling ruins and swaying trees, the smell of burning grass and charred dremnin flesh all gone in an instant so startling, it made your head spin. All replaced by gleaming white walls, and the sterile smell of recycled air. Finn shakes his head, eyes adjusting to the harshness of artificial light after so long in the sun and campfires.

He holds up his hand, fully up to his elbow in dark dremnin blood now tacky and well on its way to drying. He was holding Jun’s sword still, hand clasped too tightly on the hilt. No longer glittering and pristine, it too was marked with battle, caked with mud and blood and all the signs of recent, hard use. He lowers his arm to his side as Viveca addresses them, although her words drift past him, barely heard.

Everyone around looked… tired. Worn thin. Maybe relieved in some cases, distressed in others. There was a disorganized dash to get the badly injured to the infirmary, some authoritative commands from people who knew what needed to be done, but an otherwise mundane feeling dispersal of people. Their job was done. What tasks now needed doing would be handled by the people who were most equipped to handle them, and everyone else was freed to return to the smaller attendances of their lives on the station. Conversation and sleep and long showers and taking stock of what they’d gained, and what they’d lost.

He catches brief glimpses of people as they move; of Itachi, still badly injured, a sudden inexplicable stab of guilt making him look away. After everything, it had been Itachi who’d saved his life, and Jun who’d betrayed the considerable trust he’d heaped on him. Trust that hadn’t been earned by much more than a winning smile and a shakily outdated world view that Finn himself didn’t really believe in anymore. What an idiot.

Sheathing the sword on his back, Finn avoids any accidental meeting of anyone’s eye and heads directly for the sunlight room. In keeping with their own clock, the room wasn’t sunlit at all, but early evening hung over it, quiet and dark. The contrast from the battle they’d been in the thick of, not twenty minutes before, was disorienting. No screeching cries or dremnin, or people shouting or the roar of fire or dragon; crickets, and the gentle swaying of trees in an artificial wind. In some ways, it made Alydhion feel like the simulation. A bad dream that he just needed time to fully wake up from.

Except there was still mud on his shoes, the smell of smoke in is hair, and when he sits on a large stone, putting his head in his hands, he can feel all of that and more, ground into his palms. For better or worse, it was all as real as anything. He just needed five minutes. Five minutes to process it, collect himself and…move on. Then he could get to work. ]

II. INFIRMARY (OTA)

[ After he was cleaned up, scrubbed clear of blood and mud and whatever else came out of the dremnins they’d been fighting, Finn find his way back to the infirmary. It was the most immediate and obvious place to help. So many people had been injured… not just in serious life threatening ways, but small, more mundane ones too. Uninjured, Finn was sure he could be of assistance; anxiously hovering around the peripheral, sidestepping people who were doing the healing, keeping out of the way but just barely. ]

Is there anything I can do to help? I can get things for you if you need, or, hold things? [ His voice comes anxious and rapid, standing a little too close, and whether you are healer or patient, he offers: ] Whatever you need, you got it.

III. KITCHEN (OTA)

[ In the kitchen, there is… an aroma of cooking. Is it food? Yes. Is the smell good? Harder to say. Finn, standing at the stove, looking like he was taking a pop quiz on quantum mathematics he's never heard of, dumps a box of pasta into a simmering pot. The broth bubbles up with the sudden increases volume, spilling over the edge with a hiss. Finn frantically turn the heat down, biting his lip and looking more worried than ever.

Picking up a large metal spoon, he tastes the broth carefully, making a face. It wasn’t at all turning out the way he wanted it to. Soup seemed so easy on paper: a foolproof combining of easily cooked ingredients, all in one big pot. But of course, like many things... there was a lot more to it than that. ]

Crap-- [ He adds a small handful of salt, moving to stir it again when his robotic hand, dented from their mission, doesn’t quite respond in the seamless way that it’s supposed to, and the spoon clatters to the floor. Finn grits his teeth in frustration, the minor inconvenience feelings quite a bit more than that as stoops down to pick it up. ] Stupid…hand…

[ The soup, meanwhile, was beginning to boil up again, bubbling treacherously at the rim of the pot. ]

IV. COMMON AREA (OTA)

[ In the laundry area of the common room, Finn was at the sink. Water pours hot into the basin as he scrubs at a corner of what appears to be an ornately woven scarf, spattered intermittently with dried blood. He’s done his best to keep it clean and safe as promised, but things had gotten a little hairy during the battle and now it was--]

I don’t understand how you’re supposed to do this?

[ Finn snaps at no one in particular. Sighing in frustration, he pushes away the thought that it might be ruined. There had to be a way to clean it. It was just blood. He scrubs harder; the obvious, perhaps excessive, tension clear in his shoulders and movements. ]

V. SUNLIGHT ROOM (OTA)

[ The unending churn of tasks, errands, fetching, and chores was a blessing. Hour by hour, Finn allowed himself to be swept away in the river they created, moving too swiftly along on the surface to ever sink more than a few inches deep into the murkiness below. Though it was always there with him, it could never touch him. Not so long as he kept busy.

But there were times when the river slowed, yawning open into something larger and calm. In those moments, Finn found himself drawn back to the sunlight room as he had that first moment back. Sometimes he sat by the pond, other times he would lay down in the grass and watch the artificial clouds. Fellow visitors may even find him dozing high in the bows of a tree, looking more comfortable and natural there than he ever had in the small Ximilia sleeping quarters.

It's an echo of a ritual from his life before. Every time they returned home from a mission, his brother knew to give him space for a while. Sometimes, after an adventure, he likes to sit on that log out there and think, Jake would say to the curious, keeping them at bay so Finn could brood in peace.

Only Jake wasn't here now, was he? Oh, well. A ritual was a ritual.

Finn pulls up a handful of grass, sinking a couple inches deeper into his own thoughts. Any passers by won't earn so much as a look from the teenager, eyes fixed on the setting artificial sun. ]

(( please feel free to wildcard another scenario at your leisure, or reach out to me at nonvieta to plan something out! I will be adding closed starters in the comments of this post. ))

Comments

infirmary, also wildcard

[swordandshield]

[Felix was in and out of consciousness somewhat consistently for the first few days, never content when he was awake and restless when asleep so that he never appeared happy or healthy. After the first few days he began to stay awake more often and capable of holding conversation though he was still very much a complainer. He didn't like being stuck in the infirmary at all. He didn't like being injured even less.

But the mission was complete and they all made it back to the station with one more orb in their possession. So the day had technically been won. Felix knew the general idea of what happened during the final fight, having kept up via whatever network feed he could get out of others in the thick of things. But between the disorienting, disjointed information from the network and his own lack of full consciousness through the whole matter he only knew the final outcome for certain. For the most part, that was enough for him.

He concentrated on healing and counting down the time till he thought he could get out of here. A few more days if he had his way. There were constants, like Sabriel visiting him to flush him full of healing magic and try to undo more of what the nasty orb spell had done to him. Despite his constant complaints, she was a fucking saint and he appreciated her more than he let on. McCoy told him to shut up and relax at least three times a day when he made his rounds. Others moved around the infirmary to help out or just visit patients stuck in the sterile room. And then there was Finn who came to do his best to help out at any little thing he could.

Felix hadn't said more than a few words to Finn so far, "feigning" pain or drowsiness whenever the boy was around even if he was having a relatively good moment. He didn't know what he wanted to say. He was still trying to remember what rubbish he last had told Finn and wondered if the boy remembered any of it after the hell he'd gone through in the final battle. He could only avoid a real conversation with the boy for so long though, and he finally remembered telling McCoy and Cabrera to grab his sword and Finn's along with it.

When Felix next heard Finn's voice filter through the infirmary room the mercenary glanced to the side where he'd asked McCoy to put the boy's weapon. He shifted uneasily as he turned his head towards where the boy's voice came from and stared at the thin material separating his section from the rest of the room. Finally, he cleared his throat before speaking.]

Finn. [He tried to raise his voice a little to be heard.] Finn, come here!

[heroooic]

[ For all the time that Finn had been spending in the infirmary, he had yet to catch Felix when he was conscious. It had concerned him, but Dr. McCoy had assured him the man was recovering well, and been awake quite a few times. Just bad luck, Finn supposed, that it was never when he was around.

So when he he hears a familiar voice, more hoarse demand than request, his heart leaps with relief. ]

Felix! You’re awake! Oh, man, I was so worried. [He rushes over to his bed, stopping only briefly to set aside the folded linens he’d been carrying over from the laundry. ] How are you feeling? You’ve been out cold every time I stopped by.

[ There were still a lot of complicated feelings for Finn, tied up in their final moments on Alydhion, there was no doubt about that. But they were all set aside for a moment. Just a moment to know that Felix was awake and okay and still wanted to speak to him.]

[swordandshield]

[The determined expression Felix had as he waited for Finn to make his way over faltered as the boy reacted with genuine enthusiasm to seeing Felix awake and talking to him. His features softened as the words I was so worried wormed their way into his head and pricked at emotions he didn't know he was still capable of feeling. He almost smiled at the boy.

The mercenary looked away from Finn's earnest eyes and the moment was gone. Felix caught sight of the reason he'd called Finn over here again and he returned to the task at hand. He looked at Finn and then tilted his head towards what he had been looking at: Finn's sword propped up against the wall.]

You left something behind in your haste.

[He told Finn with a dry tone, completely ignoring the kid's question for the opportunity to make himself feel better by being a resolute jerk.]

Take it.

[heroooic]

[ Did Felix’s expression soften for a fleeting moment there, or was it just his imagination? Either way it was gone faster than Finn could even assess, and just as quickly, the question he’d asked was brushed aside, unanswered, leaving Finn feeling a strange hollowness, his own expression falling slightly.

That is, until he follows Felix’s gaze, and sees his sword; The Vending Machine sword, resting against the wall. ]

Wh…how-

[ Finn’s face lights up in a grin, grabbing the sword by the hilt. It was dented and scratched, still stained with dremnin blood and mud - although not as much as Jun’s sword had been by the time they’d left. But all of that was cosmetic. Swords could be cleaned. They could be repaired, honed and sharpened. The sentimentality of it meant a lot more to Finn, because despite his misgivings, he’d grown attached to the blade. It had seen him through a lot on Alydhion, even if he hadn’t treated it very well. ]

I can’t believe…you grabbed it for me?

[swordandshield]

Yeah, of course.

[Felix said with the casual matter-of-fact tone of a shrug. Like an implied 'why wouldn't I?' rested within his words.

He was fighting some sort of emotion again. As he watched Finn go through his feelings with them written plain as day on his face, Felix couldn't help it though damn if he didn't try. From the guilt of making Finn falter to the self-serving joy of making Finn grin for seeing his sword again. His hand tightened into a shaky fist on the opposite side of his body from where Finn stood, hidden beneath the folds of the blankets covering Felix as he lay in the infirmary bed. Then relaxed as he gave up.

What use did it serve him to fight it off when it was clearly here to stay. Besides, if he didn't think too much about it, it kinda felt good. So with that his whole demeanor changed, relaxed, and his tone of voice took on a genuine note to it.]

Well, technically I got McCoy to grab it when I spotted it, but I couldn't damn well let it get lost. It was about all I could do was hold onto yours alongside mine when they got me out of the ruined tower.

[a beat and then:]

It was worth it.

[heroooic]

[Gripping the blade tightly in his hands, Finn can't quite help the surge of emotion inside him. Felix was such a hard man, cruel with a routine casualness that made it fade into the background of who he was. It made this moment stand out like red on black; high contrast and all the more arresting because of it.

Finn swallows, guilt rushing back in. He was the reason Felix was in this hospital bed, right? Or at least... he could've...]

I--[He starts, cutting himself off shortly. There was a wetness to his eyes, for all he stays any actual shedding of tears. Felix would hate that anyway.] This means a lot to me. Thanks, dude.

[swordandshield]

[The surge of emotion made Felix feel suddenly awkward again. He never knew what to do in these situations. The best he had was to fake it like someone who gave a shit because long ago he decided he didn't care. What he knew about basic human empathy was what he got from watching others and emulating it to fit in, and long forgotten memories of a past life shoved deep down into a pit that he ignored lest he feel something other than what he wanted.

He glanced away as if to prove he saw nothing; no tears were being suppressed here by the manly men in the room, right? Right.]

Don't think about it, kiddo. It's just what a warrior does for a fellow warrior, all right?

[He offered Finn a faint smile of reassurance.]

[heroooic]

[ The truth in whatever emotions Felix did or did not have in that moment were unimportant; he saw exactly what he needed to see. Not only validation that he cared, but validation that he respected him. Warrior for fellow warrior. It was enough to make his own eyes start to shine a little brighter, holding the sword tightly. ]

Heh, right. [ He risks scrubbing his arm across his eyes. A quick thing, one he feels a rare amount of comfort to do in front of him. ] I won't. And I'd do the same for you, y'know?

[ He really would, he knows that. ]