ximilialog | SEMI-OPEN

[ Ciraiwei was gone. Gwen was gone. Steve was gone.

But the guacamole was still here. The streamers were still up. Were they necessary in a room that could make anything? No. But Finn had hung them anyway. Because sometimes, things just felt more special with that handmade touch. And he wanted Steve to feel special, in all the ways Steve had made him feel that way since his arrival here. He'd shown up on the Ximilia alone. When Steve offered him a room, both of them wound up gaining a brother out of the deal instead. Maybe it had only been a few months, but they'd been hard months. Traumatic months. And no one else had coaxed him through more nightmares, or let Finn do the same for them. They were equals, in a way. And now, they weren't anything, because Steve was gone.

Finn was just... he was getting so sick of this. All of the people he had grown so close to, would they all poof away too the next time his back was turned? So far, it felt like a month couldn't pass without at least someone who had become intensely important to him disappearing from his life forever. Finn didn't want to be angry at them, didn't want to be angry at Steve, and yet... couldn't at least one of them have managed to say goodbye to him?

It's an uncharitable thought and Finn shakes it away immediately, focusing instead of the task at hand: the brown, disgusting, ten day old guacamole left mostly untouched on the buffet table. With a garbage bag in one hand and a sponge in the other, Finn nods to his cleaning companion. ]

You ready?

Edited 2023-04-02 16:29 (UTC)

[Minimus joins the post-party cleanup in full uniform: rubber gloves, a tarp protecting his body from dust, cleaning sprays on a utility belt, rags hung over his shoulder, and a can of cleaning wipes holstered on his thigh for a disinfecting quick draw.]

I am ready.

[What better way to kick your feelings of loneliness out of your head than doing some intense housework? The week-old food was festering in his thoughts, and the idea of the rot and stains won't let him sleep at night. It's time to help Finn improve his housekeeping skills.]

Clear the place first of waste, then we'll worry about the furniture. [He makes for the first table of cake and snacks and swipes in paper plate after paper plate.]

[ Ready was absolutely the word Finn would use to describe Minimus. The boy squares off his own shoulders, limbering up a bit in the face of the task ahead. ]

Thanks for helping me out, man. [ Finn nods to him, sincerely, approaching the bowl of dip-formerly-known-as-guacamole. ] The idea of doing all this alone sucks.

[ Not so much because of the task itself, but what it represented. It didn't feel that long ago that Minimus and he were both here, enjoying the party itself. Maybe because it wasn't that long ago, not unless you measured it in emotional time. ]

Has the orb ever done this before? [ He asks, carefully, casually. He needs it to sound casual. ] Made a mistake, sent someone home before they were ready?

[One table is cleaned with practiced efficiency, and Minimus pulls out a rag to wipe the remaining crumbs. He has a system for this.]

Once you practice this enough times, you'll find a calming rhythm to it all. [At least it works for himself. Few things can give him peace of mind than going through every surface of his room, dusting it, and seeing all items in their correct place. As terrible as things may be out there, he has some power over his living quarters.]

Yes. It's happened several times in the past year. [He slides some crumbs and dust into a bin.] Every month, this happens.

[ It wasn't the news Finn wanted to hear. Freak accidents were scary enough, but routine accidents carried a unique sort of dread. The teenager set to his own task a little slower, markedly less efficient than the Cybertronian. ]

So it could happen to us? Just... any time?

[ As far as people leaving every month, that was something Finn experienced first hand all too well. It made him feel a little sick to focus on too closely. As scary as it was, the idea of being pulled off the Ximilia crew against his will was a more pleasant topic of conversation. ]

It could. It doesn't happen often, but it could.

[If Finn wanted to be comforted, he went to the wrong robot.]

From what I've learned while here, it's important to make most of one's time. It's better to have attempted something than to lose the opportunity forever. [He spritzes the surface with the all-purpose cleaner and rubs vigorously. This isn't the best place to dwell on the past.] They will be better for having known you as well.

[ The first training day after returning from Ciraiwei feels strange. Gone was the usual early-morning banter and teasing challenges that coasted Finn from sleepiness to excitement. Missing was the way he and Steve would elbow each other down the halls, joking and laughing as they guessed at how many laps Finn would be asked to do this time. Half formed jokes about breaking the record and only one way to find out danced through Finn's head as he mechanically pulled on his clothes, studiously avoiding the empty bed just to his left.

Would someone else want to occupy it soon? Would Jake? The thought was even stranger than the idea of going to training without his best friend on the ship, his brother in all but name, who had gone the way of Rand and Helen and Gwen and...

Finn shakes his head, willing those names to recede back into his brain as he tucks his hair into his hat. Training. He had to go to training. Nothing beat a weird mood like getting so exhausted you couldn't even stand after. And if each lonely step towards the training room filled Finn with a strange twist of dread, at least it was better than the dead-eyed sadness he carried around everywhere else.

Upon arriving, Finn moves to open the door as he'd done dozens of times before. Usually Felix was already inside midway through his own workout, setting the lock to allow them entry without fuss. This time, the door doesn't budge at all. It's a new enough happening that it takes Finn a moment to even realize what's going on.

... Is it really possible he beat Felix here? ]

Edited 2023-03-30 05:14 (UTC)

[Felix came stomping down the hall right before their usual start time hit the clock. He wasn't in his armor anymore at the least but he still looked pretty no-nonsense as he approached the training room entrance with freshly shaved hair in its sharp cut that seemed to emphasis his narrowed gaze as he scowled on approach.]

What are you waiting for? Get in there.

[The mercenary chided Finn as he stood out in the hallway. Felix brushed past the teenager and struck the door controls with a little more force than necessary for access. He strode through the entrance as soon as the door began to open, knocking his shoulder in his haste and cursing under his breath.

Inside, he immediately began to set up their usual space.]

I was waiting for you?

[ Even when he got here early, Felix wasn’t happy. Finn follows him into the training room, sighing. You could practically see the bad mood coming off the man. They hadn’t trained together since before Ciraiwei; and it was the first time in what felt like ages since he’d trained with Felix alone. He already missed the easy jokes and light-heartedness that Steve being there had provided.

Watching him set up, Finn pulls on his right shoulder, rolling it back. The repairs Newt had made to his arm had changed the weight of it and he was still adjusting. It kind of made him miss not having it; whatever the advantages of a prosthetic arm, there were just as many drawbacks, and sometimes he wished he didn’t have to deal with it at all.]

Honestly, I thought maybe you weren’t gonna show.

[Felix paused in his endeavor at Finn's last words. His eyes narrowed further and his lips thinned into a line as he considered without turning around to face Finn. His hands clasped onto a piece of equipment to have something to do other than strangle either the kid or himself out of unbridled frustration.

Part of him wondered what he was even frustrated for, but a part of him knew the answer to that question and it had nothing to do with Finn. The kid was just a convenient outlet. Never mind that, his lizard brain said though, and he listened because it was easier that way.

He started moving again but his words were biting as he replied.]

Since when do I cut back on training? When do I ever miss an opportunity to make myself better? Never. Because fucking that up means being weak, and weakness gets you killed. I'm a survivor. I don't fuck with shit that makes me weak.

[...except, apparently, whenever he got too close and somehow managed to get attached to other people. Christ, why did he care about others so goddamn much when they were nothing but trouble?]

I don’t know… [ Finn shrugs heavily, exasperated. ] I don’t think it’s weak to take a break once in a awhile…

[ But on the other hand, Finn was here too. Chasing distraction, more than he was self betterment. But was it that different? If two people did the same thing, did it really matter what the different reasons were?

He pushes the thought from his head, not interested in heavy thoughts this morning. Absently he throws a few punches at an imaginary foe, warming up. ]

I take breaks all the time, and I haven’t gotten killed yet, is all I’m saying.

[Felix grunted as he snapped a piece of equipment into place a little too heavily than strictly necessary, annoyed at Finn and trying not to growl like a beast. He knew someone who did that sort of thing and he refused to be anything like him. The thought made him sick (though not because of the comparison... but rather the loss he refused to think about).

He spun around and immediately railed on Finn again.] Fix your stance, for fuck's sake. How many times do I have to tell you?

[He kicked Finn's foot for emphasis, throwing off the kid's balance with the simple act. Then he pointed to the training post.]

Square off. Go through the warm-ups. [...] Get your shit together.

[The last was quieter than the rest, and whether it was for Finn or himself was debatable.]

[ The correction wasn't unheard of. Felix got grabby all the time when it came to making sure he (and Steve, his brain cruelly supplied) were as close to perfect as they could possibly be. Still, the kick makes him stumble, only barely catching his balance at the last moment. Finn was in no mood to be barked at and it shows in the glowering expression on his face.

...Right before he fixes his stance, as instructed. ]

I'm going. You don't gotta be so...

[ He trails off, biting his tongue. Something had clearly crawled up Felix's butt this morning and antagonizing him seemed not only stupid but masochistic. With a frustrated huff, Finn starts off his (their) usual warmup set. ]

Whatever. [ There's less heat in it now, trying to at least get close to correct on his stances. ] Sorry.

[On any other day Felix might be placated by the apology. In fact, he probably would be because it wasn't any skin off his back if Finn got it right or not. It's not like he cared. It just made the kid a more useful tool if he could survive longer.

But today was not a normal day, and Felix was not comforted by the fact that he had gotten his way. Instead, he just scowled and started pacing around Finn as he watched the kid go through the motions. He tried to ignore the little flaws because why did they matter but then Finn tripped up on one of the newer additions at the end and it set his teeth to grating.

When Steve had been around the older boy would have stepped in right about now to coach Finn on getting it right. Harrington had been good at that sort of thing. Big brother vibes. Felix didn't know what it was like to have a family but he imagined it was a little like what those two had had. In the military the squad had sometimes referred to each other as brothers, but Gates had never felt all that close to any of them. Except Ortez. And that had been a bit of a fluke.

The thought of gray and green swirled into a hazy mix of other features, ones that didn't match, ones that shouldn't have been in his head so easily. He grew more frustrated. Ready to burst.]

Again. Christ, what are you- [He stepped up to Finn rapidly and yanked at the boy, forcing him back to mid-position and righting all his imperfections bodily before Finn could even try to do it on his own.] -we've gone over this. It's not that hard. Why are you so much slower at picking this up?

[It wasn't really Finn's fault. It was new. It was more complex than the steps before it. Maybe shouldn't have even been a part of the warm-up section but that had never stopped Felix from treating it like it was basic and simple. It had taken Harrington extra coaching on the side for him to pick it up, but true to form the young adult was a quick learner and had finally nailed it. Now Felix was annoyed that Finn couldn't do it despite the lack of practice and careful training. That was no fault of his, but Felix was never good at taking the blame for anything.]

[ The sudden interruption throws Finn off balance, mentally and physically. His mind had just entered that pleasant fog that came with training; where the only thing that existed before or after was the moves in his set. A to B to C to D. Meditative, that was the word for it.

Not that training with Felix ever felt that close to calm. As evidenced by the way his heart jolted up to his throat at the shouting, face going red as the man jerked him in a dozen different directions. ]

Well I'm sorry, dude, I'm not Steve!

[The reaction was immediate: Felix's hand whipped out and backhanded Finn across the mouth so quickly it left even Felix blinking in the wake of the impact. He hadn't held back. He hardly ever held back. But that felt real. Like he meant it. Like he'd done it before--

--Felix reeled at the vivid sight of long hair and deep scars, cloudy steel eyes glaring at him in reaction to his mistake. He knew what came next. Retaliation. There was always retaliation for his antics. And his partner hit much harder than he did--

--for a second it felt too real and Felix's breath stuck in his chest. He wasn't a crying sort of man but if he had been he might have needed to hold back the urge to burst into tears at the flashback of memory. It was somehow worse than any of his usual flashes into the past, the ones that were from the Great War. He was usually so good at just pretending nothing was wrong with him. That he came out unscathed and everyone else was just a loser that couldn't handle reality. Nothing could be further from the truth but Felix was never one to self analyze all that closely.

It made it easier to move forward as if nothing was wrong. As if he was always in the right. Point in case: the adrenaline hit his system and suddenly he felt the thrill he usually got from putting himself in harm's way, of being on the battlefield with nothing but his training and wits to get him back out alive. It caused a dark smirk to cross his face even as his eyes narrowed in challenge at the boy in front of him.

(No time for sentiment. No use in worrying what consequences came next. There never was. It was all about the thrill. No use in caring about anything else.)

And it became all too evident of one thing: that Felix enjoyed this sort of action.]

OPEN | Simulation Room (somebody's gotta clean the guacamole)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

CLOSED | Training Room (Felix)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

{ wildcard }

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject