driftfleet | Red Fish Pond

[hey, Red Fish! while parked on the moon, you guys get a visitor.

...well, more specifically, you get someone repetitively banging on the front door of the ship with far more force than necessary. it's probably knocking, but then again, it might just be some dumbass kicking the hull of the ship over and over. it's hard to tell.]

[call him a negligent captain, but Coil doesn't usually care who is at the door. with every new face infiltrating the ranks of this ship, the number of people he doesn't care about that might come calling continues to grow.

but there is a certain dead, unfriendly, unwavering 'tone' to that knocking that is especially hard for him to ignore. it takes only a minute or so of trying to come up with more compelling reasons to ignore that sound before he gives up.

and on the way across the cargo bay, he finds himself inexplicably hurrying.

Zhas won't have to wait long for too long before a sharper, rougher, wearier ghost of Coil jogs over to answer the door.]

[he knows that a lot has happened. he knows he doesn't have a good grasp on all the details of their unique situation yet. it isn't a surprise to him that Coil is the one to open the door, so he puts his leg down from where he was caught mid-wind-up... and stands there, waiting.

expecting, almost. hello, brother.]

[it only takes the span of time needed for that face to register in his head--one startled blink--before Coil is hit with what almost seems like terror. his gasp is an audible one as he almost trips over himself in falling back fast away from the door.

Zhas has seen the look a thousand times--the look of those who know the myth of him but are caught in horror at the sight because they know it can't be real. this is the first time that it's been on Coil's face, however.

he's not seeing Zhas. he's seeing the specter that Zhas must be... and he falls back another few bewildering steps almost as soon as he finds his feet after the first retreat.]

[well, that's not a good start. he's tried to dull himself to this already, he's had plenty of time... but seeing that look sends a pang of something through his chest regardless, like a stone sending ripples through a pond.

still, he passes through the threshold and calmly closes the door behind himself. his boots thunk against the floor with the same soft weight, his eyes are tinged with orange just the same. it's him, and he turns back to regard Coil again with another expectant gaze.]

[by the time Zhas looks back, Coil has halted his retreat... but he has a hand fastened over his mouth as if he actually needs it to stay silent. and while he frantically tries to judge the validity of what is standing before him--along with his own senses--the only thing he can do is stare. he certainly can't breathe. if he moves an inch, it will evaporate. it will all be a trick.

and he can't take that.

that would really be the end of it.

...once the decision is suddenly made, however, the whole thing snaps. as soon as he knows for sure, as soon as he can feel it where everything still hurts under his ribs, that held breath seethes out of him and he runs.

right at him, before he can disappear, Coil throws himself at Zhas' chest in open desperation. he bolts past whatever stretch of time had kept them apart and flings his arms up around his neck, grabbing on before anything else can get in.]

[So long story short, Syeira got very drunk, and Arthur had to chauffeur her back. She'd been put to bed, but she hadn't stayed there. Even drink has a hard time combating her insomnia.

So it's after hours on the ship. She's knocking around in the kitchen while everyone should be asleep. She's doing her utmost best to be quiet while she makes herself coffee. Which means that everything she does is louder than it should be. There will be coffee. Eventually. It might just take her a few extra minutes.]

[after the long ordeal of getting Coil calmed down, he's fleeing to the kitchen for a momentary respite. he figures the kid could use some food, and he--well, this isn't his ship right now, but he still wants to see how badly the poor kitchen has been mangled in his absence.

he didn't think the knocking-around sounds belonged to anyone he knew. a foolish assumption, especially as he turns the corner and sees that familiar tangle of red hair across the room.

he makes a... sound. which is a somewhat monumental feat of communication, for him.]

[Hey, the kitchen is fine. She's actually kept it the same as possible, because she needs consistency.

But isn't there a saying about the only consistency is change?

She turns at the sound, mild surprise muted further by inebriation. She's expecting someone else, maybe Arthur coming to usher her back to her room to try and sleep it off. So seeing Zhas there is unexpected to say the least.

She stares, blinks once, hard and slow, but he's still there when she opens her eyes. Even so it's hard to believe. Is she seeing things?]

Zhas?

[it's second-nature to expect a strike--a punch or a jab, or the possibility of being tackled off his feet. of course he flinches away from the other. he's only human.

but then Coil is clinging onto him, exposing his sides (a vulnerable position). and he doesn't know what to do, because no one holds onto him like this--but his instinct has one arm wrapping around him in return, because that way nothing else can hurt his friend. not while he's there.]

[he is there. he's solid--he has weight and scent. he's real. the aching shock of it doesn't allow room for Coil to think about the wound that he's exposing to the world, clinging onto Zhas like a child. even at his weakest and accepting support from his partner, he has always crumbled inward. Zhas's arms have always wrapped over his shoulders so he could keep the broken things safe and contained.

this is the result of having been peeled right open, and set so far adrift that he is desperate to grab onto something that can keep him out of the high torrent of water. Zhas is that island--that solid ground that he'd never thought he'd see again.

his fingers grip into familiar fabric, holding on tight as he buries his face, and he doesn't have a moment to even think about fighting back the sob that wracks out of him. he can finally breathe again.]

[he knows that he's been gone... a while, but he keeps forgetting exactly how long that "while" was. to his senses, it's been a week and a nap.

her exaggerated reaction doesn't fill him with a whole lot of confidence, but he raises an arm in what would have normally been his "hi" gesture anyway.]

[that's a sound that comes out of mothers who lose sons, children who lose parents. did he die, while he was away? he woke up cold, haunted by the echoes of a grave he can't remember--so maybe he missed his own funeral.

he doesn't move. this isn't right, but nothing about the Drift Fleet was every really right. he tilts his face away from Coil's, not just to keep the kid from smudging his face-paint. the neck is a vulnerable point too.]

[there had been a little funeral, yeah, but it hadn't helped. Coil had tried to mourn him as lost, but he apparently hasn't gotten any better at learning how to handle grief. judging by the sound of it, he's been choking on barely-stomached pain for months.

it might be the most of Coil's voice that he's heard for a long time.]

[She's walking closer, little by little. Half because she's not convinced he's there, half so she doesn't trip.]

Do you know me?

[This is important. Vital. If he doesn't remember her, well she's just not enough to cope with that.]

[he'll wait. he's feeling patient.

he's put up with a lot worse, for a lot longer.]

[...of course he remembers. he nods, swallowing back a sudden pang of uncomfortable familiarity. he remembers, there's nothing to worry about.

he happens to smell the air--and tilts his head, distracted. she smells like a bar; has she been drinking...?]

[The nod is pretty much her whole world right then. She's so happy she can't hold it. She's been half brought to tears more than once tonight, by well meaning friends who only wanted to make her feel better. But she'd overcome, even drunk, she'd not shed a tear.

But happiness cracks right through her battered defenses, and suddenly she just bursts into tears. He might have a half a second of warning because of it, before she just pitches herself at him, completely forgetting that he's not really a toucher. She throws her arms around his waist and hugs him, probably tight enough to be uncomfortable, just so she knows he's there. And well, she cries, open, body wracking sobs of just pure release.]

[it takes him a solid, uncomfortable minute before he can even try to get a hold of himself, and he does try as soon as he can.

he drags in longer breaths, attempting to gather himself together into one piece again. which means he finally loosens his grip on Zhas and starts to center on his own feet.]

[At some point during the day, there's a tiny streak of black and white that barrels itself on board the Red Fish and sprints straight for Sam's room. Don't worry if his door's shut, she'll just. Go straight through it, in a blink-and-you'll-miss-it kind of way. Pooka do that kind of thing.

Whether Sam is in his bedroom at the time or not is also a moot point; she scoots right under the bed to the furthest point beneath it and curls into a ball. It doesn't matter. She's in pure flight mode for both kitten and small child, and if she went straight for the person she trusts to make everything better, what of it? Just let her hide under here for a while until she feels better.

S'all good, nothing to see here.

...is that a sock.

GOOD ENOUGH SECURITY BLANKET, I'M TINY.]

[ Dean had begun adapting, he had. He thought he had, at the very least.

And then Cas went and fell asleep and forgot to wake the hell up. Which means that it's time to choose your own adventure!! Or, at least, choose which Dean you're willing to deal with. If any at all (and if the answer is none, I wouldn't be surprised.)

OPTION A: Dean has not left his room when anyone might see for days. His booze consumption is that of noxious levels and it's likely that whatever pot Cas had on him? Is now suddenly Dean's. Because he's a bastard like that and getting a hold of chemicals is a reprieve he finds necessary. Do you smell whatever it is he's smoking? Are you concerned he's died in there? All of the above? Feel free to bang on his door.

OR!

OPTION B: Dean has made his way out of his bedroom whilst being... rather hungover. There's a lot of squinty eyed grumbling going on right about now and he's making his way for coffee and what might be considered food. Sitting down with a plate of gunk in front of him, he sure as hell is not eating it. Would you like to eat it? He might even be heard mumbling to himself- ] There is no goddamn way.

Edited 2016-05-25 00:12 (UTC)

[ah... it's the brother that this half of the captain-duo has yet to really have interacted with, now finally leaving his cave. Coil hadn't minded when he'd more or less disappeared, really. he'd noted the various smells emanating from his room, and he'd just kind of... hoped that eventually the stench of death would follow at some point. it would have been one less crew member to think about.

because he is a caring individual and an attentive captain.

but now that the man is actually out and about, ignoring him isn't so much of an option. so, as Coil steps into the kitchen and finds him hunkered there... Dean will have a sketchy one-eyed kid kind of skirting quietly into the room--keeping to himself, trying to appear unobtrusive. and also sneaking pointed, curious glances over as he picks through the cabinets.]

[he flinches back in surprise, of course. just because it's already happened once doesn't mean he's any more prepared for someone to fling themselves at him. for several dense seconds, he only stands there, arms held up and out of the way in feeble astonishment...

...what... is going on...? what does he do with this...?

but... he knows how to deal with crying girls a little better than he does crying boys. in her right mind or not, Syeira can eventually feel his arms close around her in response.]

[and he, having fallen into his place as a caretaker, reaches out for Coil's shoulder to give him a little stability as he reorients himself.]

[You were missed, Zhas. That's what's going on.

She's not blind drunk, though she tried really hard to get there, people kept stopping her, so she does know when he puts his arms around her. It just makes her grip on him harden, and the tears come in another surprising wave, that half chokes her, and she coughs a few times. She will feel really bad about how gross she's making his shirt, in a few minutes.]

s-so happy....tssee you

[It's vaguely intelligible, if a little broken up by hiccuping breaths and wet, mucusy snucking. Welcome home, Zhas.]

Red Fish Pond

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For Zhas

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[Locked to Sam]

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B!

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