( closed ) this year taught me how it feels to be lost and ambitious

[diametrically]

Who: Cassian & various
When: September to October
Where: Around Thorne and the Horizon
What: Catch-all for September and October
Warnings: N/A, will update accordingly

🌌 💫 🌃
( closed starters below! ↓ reach out on discord @ cardialloyed for plotting! )

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— october 💫

[diametrically]

— the doctor 💫 the horizon

[diametrically]

[ So much had happened since the dream that it feels like Cassian's sense of time has been distorted with it. And while he had mostly dealt with it by simply ignoring it, there had been plenty of things in the present day that required his attention.

Even he understands that there's only so much that he can avoid however. There are still loose ends - people - from the dream, that he didn't know what to make of. And now that his life is as settled as it can be when someone is on the run and hiding from soldiers that may or may not be looking for them, he thinks he can have a moment to start gathering those loose ends.

The message to the Doctor had been brief, albeit a bit awkward on his part. Of course in the Doctor's typical manner that he recalls, the man hadn't batted an eyelash when asked if they could meet in the Horizon and chat. The last place Cassian expects to find the TARDIS however is up lodged in one of the trees that had sprung up in his domain overnight.

While he's grown taller and heavier, his body still remembers how to climb trees from his days as a young boy on Kenari. It's how he manages to pull himself up into the TARDIS. When he catches his breath and takes a proper look around he realizes that this thing is far bigger than he'd expected and when the Doctor eventually notices him or realizes he's there, he'll find Cassian looking around with a mild air of awe. ]

[thedreamer]

[ Never one to sit still, the Doctor isn't quite in the console room when Cassian enters. Perhaps he should have been milling about near there, knowing he was coming by soon. It might have been the proper thing, but not the Doctor's thing by any means. He'd been delighted to hear from him, as he is with all people he has even an iota of positive feelings towards (which is also...most people), and at least for now, none of that delighted feeling is at all hampered by whatever happened in that dream and the fact they haven't really spoken since then.

He hasn't just completely ignored it, but perhaps as a result of his own experience and his travels, he has a different perspective on the dream than some. Maybe he shouldn't make up his own reality about it and completely ignore the implications, but that's also a point of view that's often suited him well over the years.

— by a certain definition of the words, suited him well.

In any case, he's thrilled to see him, but he's actually not bothering to be there to greet him straight away. He's in the observatory, tweaking a few things so he can show Cassian when he arrives. At some point it occurs to him he might want to check to see if he's there, so he does eventually bump into him and he acts like they're already halfway into a conversation, a bright grin on his face as he makes a move to clap a hand to his shoulder. ]

Well! What do you think? I've redecorated a bit — not that you'd know or be able to compare, but — well done, eh? I'm glad you're here.

[diametrically]

[ The Doctor's voice signals his arrival and Cassian turns to look at him. His gaze goes briefly towards the hand on his shoulder. It would have been easy for him to gently move away from it, but he doesn't. Instead he allows it to remain there, a sense of familiarity from a life they hadn't really lived coming over him. Quietly, it's his own way of saying that it's good to see him too after the mindful distance that he'd put between them.

The same awe that he'd had on his face from before manages to creep into his voice even though everything he knows about space craft dictates that this shouldn't be possible. ]

It's bigger on the inside.

[ After a moment his gaze goes back to the Doctor. ]

How is that possible?

[thedreamer]

Dimensionally transcendental! Anything is possible with her, the TARDIS — Time and Relative Dimension in Space.

[ There is an undertone of...reverence when he speaks the name fully. ]

Actually — reverse, please, could you say that again?

[ Yes, he's really that thrilled, that excited enough to want to hear it again. Granted, that first utterance embodies that sense of wonder in a way that no subsequent reactions ever really can, but he's missed it and it helps him recapture that sense of wonder that's felt so far away from him lately here, the longer he's gone from the stars, gone from her, his old girl, his oldest and dearest friend. It means more than he can say to show it off to Cassian.

He will carefully tuck that melancholy away, though, wrapping it up in a joyful smile as he waits expectantly. As if this could fix everything in an instant. For a little while, though, it can. ]

Just one more time.

[diametrically]

[ The name is a mouthful. A whimsical creative one at that - especially when he considers the names of ships that he's used to working with. They're all numbers and letters, abbreviations for technical jargon named by those with engineering minds. They're practical.

And while having a name devoid of character doesn't mean that the pilots that pilot them or the people that designed them were any less affectionate towards their creations, it's incredibly clear to Cassian that the Doctor cared deeply for this ship as if it were more than just that.

At the Doctor's request his eyebrow raises. In most other instances he might not have humoured him. But it's hard not to catch the infectious air of whatever is happening inside this space that feels so distinct from his own. ]

...It's bigger on the inside? Is that something you don't get to hear often?

[thedreamer]

That's it!

[ Doesn't get to hear much lately. And though he certainly believes his mind is brilliant enough to conjure the perfect recreation of his ship here, the way she hums under the palms of his hands as he leans against the console is a cold memory. She isn't really here with him, but he can pretend for a little while.

He decides, evidently, that they can skip over other formalities and launch into conversation as though no time has passed at all, which leads to the Doctor smiling a little crookedly in fondness as he gestures with his hand, waving Cassian closer to the console that's bathed in shades of darker blue and green, lit up with life, seemingly. Not — not the way she really should be, not wholly, but...close. Enough for comfort. ]

Come and have a look! Or — a feel, if you like. Just rest your hand flat a moment. Listen and touch. She's humming with life, can you feel it?

[ Even if Cassian chooses not to come closer, the Doctor does his own leaning in, enough that can you feel it could be just for his sake alone. ]

[diametrically]

[ Cassian has since long come to terms with the fact that all of this in the Horizon is merely make believe. Maybe once upon a time (actually, very early upon his arrival here) he would have scoffed at such a thing. But that wasn't because he thought that people creating objects and places based on their memory was a silly thing. He just simply didn't believe in magic.

After all these months here however, it's hard for him to deny that now just like it's equally impossible for him to deny how this allows them a piece of their galaxies wherever it is that they've come from. So who is he to deny the Doctor that ounce if joy as well?

He wanders over to the console trying to make heads and tails of the bizarre controls in front of him. And while there's hesitation in the way he extends his hand out towards the console (why would this feel any different than a ship that's been powered up?) his fingers and then his palm eventually touch the cool metal.

And while it is cool, there is a warmth there that is different from that of a machine that has been working. There's something else. A breath. A pulse. He draws his hand back, an inquisitive look on his face. ]

Is there something else in the engine? Ships don't feel like that.

[thedreamer]

This one does.

[ It's an obvious thing to say, of course, and it might sound like he's just being haughty (which he absolutely is sometimes), but it's nothing of the sort now as he speaks; there's only joy and the satisfaction of being able to share this for a moment with someone who might have some semblance of appreciation for it.

For the Doctor, it's about more than just missing his TARDIS and wanting to be as close to his ship as possible. It's also about seeing the little spark of...something in anyone else but him. Whether it's a spark of wonder, curiosity, absolute disbelief, or something else entirely, he's thrilled at all of it. ]

You see, she's — the TARDIS, she's grown, not built. The last of her kind like this. Well, not this one, obviously. I'm very good at very many things, but I can't come close to replicating her in her full glory. This is...near enough. There's life in her, far beyond just her parts and stuff. That's what hums and sings and dances about the stars.

— carmy & percy 💫 nott

[diametrically]

[ When Cassian had taken up smuggling and started building up his contacts in the black market, he didn't think that one of the first thing he'd bring in from the Free Cities would be a blender. Or rather, the blueprints for a blender and some of its parts. Not that he particularly cares. Smuggling was something he'd fallen back into as a means of survival. This business wasn't something he took seriously or felt any particular joy from. It was a job plain and simple.

But he'd be lying if he said that this whole blender business wasn't a little self-indulgent as much as it was Percy and Carmy.

Which is why once he's managed to assemble it together and ensure that it works, he sends a message to the pair of them to meet him in Nott at a nondescript cafe just off the beaten path. The palace guards rarely passed through (he'd sat there and watched and made note of it) and if they did it was a cursory glance and nothing more.

Cassian sees them enter from a table in the back corner and waves them over, hauling the device in the box onto the table. ]

No one followed you here?

[emulsions]

[ When Cassian promised him a whole ass blender, Carmy doesn't put a lot of stock in it. Not that he doubts the guy, just, you know, expectations, reality, all that. It kind of sounds insane to be living outta Hogwarts and somebody tells him that they can put together a Vitamix in the fishing town across the kingdom.

So color him fucking surprised when he gets the note that it's actually ready.

He throws on his jacket and hops the portal. Cassian might've mentioned something about being careful, but Carmy's idea of careful and Cassian's are clearly not on the same fucking page because he takes in that question with a blink. ]

Uh...shit. [ He glances over his shoulder, then back. ] No? No, I don't think so.

[ They're probably fine, yeah? Like, it's a fuckin' blender. What're they gonna arrest him for, pureeing the butternut squash too goddamn fast? ]

[seaweedbrain]

[ To say Percy's freakin' excited would be an understatement. He's never been more excited about a household appliance until he was kidnapped into a world where the stuff he's used to, the stuff he's never even imagined a world without was suddenly ... well, without.

He remembers the sound of his mom's blender back home in their cozy little Manhattan apartment, how she'd use it for milkshakes and smoothies and soup bases. It's almost a nostalgic sound at this rate.

His joining the table consists of a performance: it's acting super casual, it's looking around but pretending that he isn't looking around, and it's slipping into the last empty seat at the table when he's certain no one's looking. He doubts anyone would care about a blender either??? Like, it's barely even a weapon unless you chucked the whole thing at someone's head, and then maybe you'd concuss them at best, and break the blender at worst. But Cassian's message sparked some inspiration in him to treat this like he's been invited to some kind of top secret mission, and after spending months here, sometimes it's kinda fun to be a little stupid. ]

Oh, yeah. I got this espionage stuff down, man. So. You got the goods?

[ Is he still acting? Yeah, okay, maybe a little. ]

[diametrically]

[ Based on both Percy and Carmy's responses Cassian realizes belatedly how his question sounds. Namely how absolutely paranoid it makes him sound. Meeting any Summoned from the castle feels like a risk, but several weeks have passed since he and River had escaped to Nott and no one had found them or gone looking for them. If they wanted to expend any effort into finding them and bringing them back, they would have.

But just because it seemed like that on the surface however didn't make it true. And the last thing he wanted for both Carmy and Percy was for them to get in trouble.

Before he can explain himself, Percy's response has Cassian's expression twist as he glances towards the teen. ]

The goods? Why are you speaking like that?

[ There's no point in hiding how incredulous he sounds. For a moment it looks like he's about to say more before he shuts his mouth and sighs. ]

Never mind - here. [ And at that he pushes the crate towards Carmy. ] Hopefully this is something like what you had in mind.

[emulsions]

[ Wait, Percy? What's the kid doing here? Honestly, Carmy figured this was gonna be a quick back alley swap, blender for...(Twinkies? Actually, Cassian never said what he wanted out of this), but it's turning out to be, uh. More than that?

Carmy opens his mouth, squinting at Percy slinking along like he's a medieval Cody Banks. And it's, it's—fuckin' stupid? It shouldn't make him laugh 'cause it's definitely not ha-ha funny, but somehow it is. Funny. He looks down at the table and fails to stifle a smile. Fak would love this kid. They're practically the same age.

He clears his throat and takes the crate, motioning vaguely at it for Percy's sake. ] The goods.

[ Cassian's paranoia musts be rubbing off on him; tell him why the fuck he's suddenly taking a look around before he pops the lid on this thing? But that's what he does even though there's not a chance in hell he'd manage to notice a single thing out of place. Not unless there's a guy standing on the table swinging a battleaxe.

He peers inside. That's. Oh, shit. That's actually...?

He glances at Cassian. ] Am I allowed to take this out or is that, like, too wild of a risk?

[seaweedbrain]

Whoa — it's a real blender! Or kinda ... mostly like one.

[ It's a little bit weird like it's been was given the Fantasy Novel treatment, but the gist is there and it does look pretty cool.

Percy can't help himself as he, too, joins Carmy to peer inside. He's got like, so many ideas for this thing, but he's going to be calm and cool and collected and patient, even if his natural instinct is do the very opposite.

Who knew he'd get excited over something that seems so mundane back home?

And it's true, it does look like a real blender in their real world and not the Horizon where this kinda stuff can be dreamt up out of a fond memory, with its exact likeness. This thing needs to be made up of existing parts, and it needs all of that other engineering stuff and skilled hands, like those of the Hephaestus kids. ]

Does it work?

[diametrically]

[ With how much time Cassian has spent with Percy and Annabeth, the kid's behaviour really shouldn't come as any sort of surprise to him. And yet he somehow proves to him time and time again that he should know better.

...Honestly he'll be able to find the hilarity in this later once he's certain that neither of them will get in any trouble. But after that display? If they were trying to remain inconspicuous that just went right out the window.

At this point would pulling a blender out of a box really be that strange? He sighs, seemingly relenting. ]

It should be fine.

[ And as for the silly demigod whose excitement is admittedly a little infectious - ]

I tested it to make sure. You'll have to power it by hand for now until we can magic the motor. But I might have someone in mind for that.

[emulsions]

[ Cool, okay. Taking it out of the box, then.

Carmy reaches inside and extracts the blender that looks a lot like something you'd see in a museum or art gallery, the sort of shit that's hypothetical. A what-if blender from the olden times or steampunk stuff. It's kind of surreal, mostly 'cause he can see exactly how it works: the blades, the crank, the lid and jar that holds the whole thing together.

He gives it a couple test rotations. Huh. ]

Yeah. Yeah, this is great. Uh— [ He glances at Percy. ] You wanted the milkshakes, right? You and your friend?

[ Annabeth? He's seen them together in the halls and they look about the same age. She'd popped up asking about milkshakes, too, which he's gonna guess isn't a coincidence. Can't really blame them, you know? You miss the mundane shit when you're stuck in fantasy land, and he thinks about how when he was in Copenhagen, he'd kill for a shitty street taco. ]

— jack 🦝 i do what i want

[stations]

( Picture it: Sicily, 1922 — wait, no. That's not right. Picture it: August, at the tail end of the Herald's second rising. Is it a flashback? Is time linear? These are things science just can't explain yet.

Anyway, this is what it looks like if you can get over semantics such as time and chronology and the sequence of events and how late is too late to tell a story: two soggy men step off two separate boats at two separate times. Both of them on similar missions, both of them with varying amounts of success, but not with one another. Both of them exhausted, and trudging quietly up the cobbled streets that run adjacent to the sea shore.

One of them happens to have a prosthetic leg, and consequently might walk just a little more slowly than the other, making him a little too easy to catch up to, whether it be accidentally or on purpose. Jack's inclined to assume the former, the moment he properly, directly sees the look on Cassian's face.

He looks--

Haunted.

As someone with resting apathy face, who rarely projects his emotions and frequently denies even having them in the first place, it's often jarring for him when he looks into the eyes of somebody that's actually expressive sometimes. It certainly helps his occasionally spotty tendency to miss social cues or blank on people's general vibe. Maybe it's lingering, faded memories of fake lifetimes, or maybe it's character growth, or maybe Jack's brain is just more functional now than it used to be three or four books years ago. Whatever the case, he looks at Cassian and knows almost instantly that something's very wrong.

To clarify: almost instantly, unfortunately, means right after conjuring the party blower and wheezing out a weak celebratory little toot. Because he's pretty sure he remembers it being Cassian's birthday recently, and he forgot until seeing him, and birthday instinct beat out recognize emotions and express empathy instinct, and now-

Well, now it all sort of finally finishes resolving, and the party blower's streamer goes limp and sad, hanging from the plastic mouthpiece as Jack pulls it away to furrow his brow. His hair drips. His clothes sag, soaked and heavy. It's all very Sad Clown. )

Ha-( -ppy birthd- )...ey, are you okay?

[diametrically]

[ Having a panic attack on a boat in the middle of a storm isn't exactly how Cassian had pictured his day going. But if he wondered what he was doing on a boat in the first place, he definitely wonders  what the hell Jack was doing there. Jack is more than capable in his own way of handling himself. That won't stop Cassian from worrying though - even if he is reluctant to admit as much despite how he keeps an eye on the man from afar.

Afar really isn't in the cards today when he spots that familiar gait ahead of him as they make their way back up to the castle, soggy, wet and miserable. Something urges him ahead to catch up and check on Jack despite everything that he had just been through. Time and being pulled to a completely different world hadn't changed Cassian's propensity to put others ahead of himself. Except when he arrives at his side the last thing he expects is to have a party blower toot weakly in his face. 

For a moment Cassian can do nothing but blink in shock until it slowly settles into an expression that is a dead ringer for the BenAfflecksmokingmeme. ] 

...It's been a long day. [ There's another pause as he seems to take in the sad little party blower and something else shifts in his expression. ] How did you remember my birthday? 

[stations]

( Ah, yes, cool — he has, once again, made things immediately awkward with this man. Jack would like to imagine somewhere out there, there's an alternate universe with a version of events where their first impression was smooth, where they had a pleasant conversation, where they got to know one another in a very normal context, and where Jack's pet raccoon never initiated a game of keep-away with a fish.

Unfortunately, that world is not this world, and he's left delicately pulling the party blower out of his mouth, feeling for the thousandth time like a fucking idiot. One day, ever, in the duration of the time that they know each other, he's going to demonstrate some semblance of competence in front of Cassian — or he's going to yeet himself directly into the sun. )

Well, to be honest with you, my memory's... kind of weird. I can forget formative, super important moments and yet somehow totally remember a date I'm pretty sure you told me one time in a reality that never actually happened. It's annoying, and incredibly unhelpful, and also... possibly not the most important thing happening right now?

( He thoughtlessly offers the party blower over, just in case the not-quite-Birthday Boy is, for some unknowable reason, interested in keeping it. )

You look like you just got run over by a truck made entirely of emotions. What happened?

[diametrically]

[ Truthfully whatever incredulousness and annoyance Cassian may have had towards Jack has long since weathered away. It's truly the last thing he associates with the man anymore. Or rather, there's less of it that he associates with him now than he did before. And even if that were the case it's hard to be those things when it feels like he's been put through a meat grinder and spit out again.

And funnily enough (and maybe because of the meat grinder experience) the offered party blower brings him a small spark of joy because it looks like how he feels. After a moment he takes it from him with a faint lift of the corner of his lips. ]

It's possible I would have forgotten it if you hadn't said it so. Thank you.

[ He pockets it to do what with later he isn't certain but at least it won't just end up in the trash. It offers him a moment of pause to think about Jack's question and how he wants to go about answering it. Or if he even wants to. With so many of his walls down already, he relents. ]

While we were on the ship I saw visions of people I know from home.

[ It's a small fib. He's been seeing them everywhere actually out of the corner of his eye. ]

I almost dove overboard to save someone that wasn't there.

[stations]

( You know, he'd half expected Cassian to wave him off the party blower. Kind of nice that he takes it, strangely.

He tucks his now-free hands into his pockets as they walk, his already slow gait dropping just a little as his limited processing power diverts to navigating this conversation instead. Jack's got kind of a limit on brain RAM, he can only allocate it to so many things at one time. Walking and unpacking the deeper layers beneath complicated moments requires a little adjustment at the cost of speed. The alternative is losing grace, and he'd really rather not eat the dirt in an almighty faceplant right now.

There's a reason he went on this trip with Kyle, though — he is good at a few things. Weirdness and magic are under that umbrella, and the value he brought to this expedition definitely wasn't in his ability to rescue-swim with a prosthetic leg. It was in the tracking spell that other mages refused to continue performing, it was in locating the survivors without being dissuaded by the visions it brought on. He spent a fair amount of time today getting lost in the sauce, and while he was under, he saw them, too. People, bodies — mostly strangers, but... not all of them.

He understands, and that understanding flickers subtly across his features. His eyes drift toward the ground for a few moments so he can think while he talks, because his speaking eloquently and reading emotions through facial expressions mechanisms tend to be at odds, too. He can't actually turn off the latter while he's trying to do the former, it's a little too automatic, so... eye contact with the ground for a hot second. )

Something about the water, or whatever- whoever- did this, was screwing with a lot of people. Messing with magic, or with our minds, sometimes both. I gotta hand it to them, it was pretty convincing. I think it focused on people we've lost, or who are important to us.

( Only then does he lift his eyes to Cassian again, studying him quietly. )

It played with your heart, nobody can blame you for trying to do something about it, you know?

[diametrically]

[ Cassian's own pace is usually faster than the normal person's. It had been forged out of necessity to a certain extent. A childhood on Kenari with its gnarled roots and reaching vines across the forest floor necessitated nimble feet unless you wanted to eat dirt often and frequently. And then after that it was the need to move as quickly as possible through streets and between bodies to avoid being caught. But he slows here, unbothered by having to do so and always keeping an eye out in case Jack does stumble and fall on the uneven road back to the castle.

From the few conversations that he'd had with other Summoned Cassian had come to a similar conclusion. Now would have been a good time as any to draw some sort of comfort from the combined misery that they seemed to be experiencing - but then again he had never really been the sort. He would have vastly preferred that they not experience these strange happenings at all. It was enough having been kidnapped and brought here against their will.

His jaw tightens into a line - not because he disagrees with what Jack is saying but because there's some part of him that bristles against the perceived sympathy being shown to him. It was less about being perceived and more that he's frustrated that it had happened at all. Frustrated that he can't do anything to prevent it. Some of that frustration manages to make its way past his usual restraint. ]

It shouldn't have happened. I -

[ He cuts himself off, remembering himself. ]

Did it happen to you?

[stations]

( Okay, that's not exactly the reaction he expected to get — not that he's bothered by it, it's more interesting than off-putting. Also, deeply relatable. It sucks that his sentence ended there, Jack's pretty curious where it would've ended. Should he press? He's not very good with stuff like this, knowing where the line is, knowing when he's being insensitive or when he should gently pry. Not for the first time, he wishes he could have absorbed even, like, ten percent of Rosa's people skills. )

Yeah, it happened to me. It's just- I'm kind of used to seeing stuff like that normally, so it... hits me less, I think, than it does other people.

( He's been hallucinating the ghosts of the people he's lost for a very, very long time. He doesn't need the Heralds or Mages or the Singularity for that, and he's got enough exposure therapy by now that he's a little bit immune to the emotional turmoil it brings. Not entirely, but... decently.

But this conversation isn't about him — or at least, it shouldn't be. Cassian was there for him after Sabine disappeared, this is the first time he might actually have an opportunity to repay the favor. )

Hey- just... preemptively, in the interest of transparency, I'm not really the best at being an emotionally comforting person, but that's for sure my goal right now, and I could really use the practice? If you could maybe... humor me a little? If you wanna talk about it. No pressure, obviously, but it would be pretty cool of you.

[diametrically]

[ Cassian's frustrations shift away from himself and towards Jack once again. Whether or not this (visions, hallucinations, ghosts - whatever label you wanted to place on this), is normal for Jack doesn't mean that he should have had to experience it.

But before he can say as much, he finds himself surprised again by what comes next. Despite Jack's delivery, Cassian can hear the sincerity woven through it. He's worried about him. And maybe Cassian shouldn't balk so hard against someone's act of kindness.

He can't help himself and lets out a breath that could nearly be a laugh though if it is, it's aimed entirely at himself. It quickly fades after that and after another breath he starts. It's difficult at first. It's clear that he doesn't want to talk about it but once he begins it slowly begins to get easier. At least, that's what he tells himself. ]

I saw my sister. And my mother. And some friends that I left behind before I arrived here. They were alive. [ Well. Most of them. Maarva was now stone and dust and ash and he had failed her and her ghost. ] But I keep seeing them die in different ways and there's nothing I can do to help them.