thirteen ♢ spam + voice

[versusnurture]

[After a violent eviction from the last place she ever truly considered to be home, Abigail doesn't know if she'll ever be anything but transient again. The Barge was a close thing, though. It made her feel safe more than it made her feel vulnerable, and so while she doesn't exactly thrill at the prospect of being yanked back here with no warning, she understands. It's the Barge's way. And it's only temporary.]

[Bittersweet.]

[She is a little different, though not unrecognizable. Her hair is longer, her spine straighter, her expression hovering not between neutrality and a scowl but between inexplicable pleasantry and a not-always-nice smile. When she walks, it's like she's balancing books on her head, an angel and devil on either shoulder, both quiet for most of the time. And she doesn't wear the scarf; her scar stands in stark relief against the paler skin of her neck, as it had in the past few months here.]

[First, she looks for people who were important to her: Ben, Harvey, Arkin, David, Ned. Alana, if she's still here, though a large part of Abigail hopes she isn't. Then she looks for Hannibal, to get it out of the way.]

[Then she situates herself in the library or on the deck, alternating between the two, with a book open in her lap. She is unbothered by events. Anyone else can come to her.]

voice

For anyone who hasn't been here before and doesn't understand what's going on: there isn't anything to panic about, at least not yet. I've been here before, so I might be able to answer some of your questions.


( ooc; abigail is from after her own graduation!! weh. )

Comments

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[secretasshole]

[Elizabeth isn't expecting anyone to come looking for her. Maybe Razer, to make sure she was alright after he dropped her off at the infirmary, but there's been no sign of the alien who had helped her on the network or in the hallways, and while the others had been friendly enough, it's not like she's expected a knock at the door. She's more surprised to see a completely unfamiliar face when she opens it, and stares at Abigail with some confusion. She's still wearing scrubs - none of David's clothes fit her, and she doesn't want to wear them.] Yes?

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[versusnurture]

[Well, this isn't what she was expecting. She looks nonplussed for a second, then smoothes down the hem of her shirt and crosses her arms.]

I'm looking for David. Have you seen him?

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[secretasshole]

[She literally has no idea why she'd be looking for him, but.] He isn't here. I've been told I'm here in his place, for the time being. Why?

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[versusnurture]

Oh. Well. Because he used to be my friend, when I was here before.

. . . You're not Shaw, are you?

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[secretasshole]

[The idea of David having friends is just. Completely foreign, and more than a little bizarre. It almost distracts her from answering, but the fact that David's apparently talked about her jerks her back into the presence.] Yes, I am.

[spam]

[themissingpiece]

[Arkin is here but it's how he was not long after his arrival on the Barge which unfortunately means he doesn't really know who Abigail is. His scars still fresh, especially the ones on his cheeks, as well as mental scars. He moves like someone who expects something bad to jump out of him at any moment. He's jumpier and truly does not like being out in the open.]

[So when Abigail finds him, he's moving down the hall outside his cabin. Though moving forward he keeps his torso twisted three quarters so his back to the wall at all times. He doesn't touch the wall and his eyes keep moving, scanning the familiar places he would be sure to find a trap.]

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[versusnurture]

[This Arkin is, at least, familiar, although not what she wants to be seeing. Whether he's from somewhere or sometime else or from the very first time they met, or even before, Abigail doesn't know - but she does know to keep her distance.]

[She stays several doors down as she calls to him softly.]

Hey. Arkin?

[praesidium]

[Surprised to see her is a drastic understatement. Alana looks positively shocked to see Abigail. Last she knew, the girl was dead. And here she looked...]

[Well, better than Alana had ever known her to be. She looked grounded. In control. She doesn't know what to make of this and so says nothing for a long moment.]

Abigail, what are you doing here?

[versusnurture]

[She raises her eyebrows.]

You probably know more than I do. I was at home. I was actually kind of busy.

I didn't realize you were still here.

[praesidium]

Still? [Alana frowns a little.] Abigail, I just arrived here.

[versusnurture]

Did you?

[She frowns harder. So there.]

This is another weird time thing. I hate the weird time things.

[praesidium]

Weird time things?

[halftheman]

[ Harvey is here and there, still troubled by Mira's-- alteration. He still doesn't know what to make to make of it, but he's.... not mad at her (that's foolish). Two-Face is confused, curling around the idea in their backbrain over and over and over again. ]

[ Knowing even a fragment of the future is terrifying. ]

[ Harvey sticks to routine, to make sense of it. He gets up, goes to the gym, hits the showers after, hits the mess hall, goes to the library for his shift. He needs to stay focused. Indulge ritual. He fingers his coin in his pocket, feeling the scratches dug deep, and reminds himself of his reality, the now. ]

[versusnurture]

[She finds him in the library. Which seems fitting enough - they are, in their own individual ways, questers for knowledge. People who like things set up in straight lines, too. Organized.]

[Her hand rests on his shoulder for a fleeting moment, then falls back to her side.]

Do you remember be? [Enough people haven't by now - she needs to know.]

[halftheman]

[ He smiles; it's slight and smile but real. ]

I do, I do.

Been lost in the time stream, or making sure I didn't? [ He tilts his head, taking her in. No, she's different. Every inch of her is the same, but--older, more vital, prouder. ] Ah, no. It's you. Look at you.

All grown up.

[versusnurture]

[She smiles, shy, and draws her hands back to herself.]

Yeah. I guess I am all grown up, if you want to put it that way.

Are you all right? I [miss you; worry so much] think about you a lot, back home.

[halftheman]

I'm fine. Keeping my nose clean and all. [ Still treading water, but that's not so bad, right? So long as his head's above the waves. ]

[ It is. Barely. ]

You went home? Tell me what you're doing there. I half-expected you to go looking for 'Lena.

[warisart]

[Ben is now, as he often was then, locked in his assigned cabin, 3-6. It has changed, a single room spartan military barracks consisting of a metal-framed cot, a three-drawer dresser, and an overhead lamp confined by a metal cage style cover; the walls and floor are painted cement. Ben is comfortable here, except for how it makes his skin crawl.

He is not expecting visitors but he responds to the knock on the sturdy, unmarked and unbroken metal door as quickly as he can; somewhat ungainly around the knee-straightening cast on his left leg, he's learned to use the crutches effectively and efficiently once he's upright.

Physically he is the same, right down to his familiar, unchanging wardrobe; his expression is blank and closed, though, and there is no recognition in the bright brown of his eyes when he steps back smartly to allow her entrance, coming to the best attention he can at the moment.]

Ma'am.

[versusnurture]

[One look is all it takes: this is not her Ben.]

[Her heart sinks, though her expression doesn't change. She could just turn and go, she thinks; could say she had the wrong door and leave without another word, and Ben would accept it. She knows enough about him to know that this is absolutely true.]

[But as much as seeing the shine in his eyes dimmed to nearly nothing, she wants to be near him. She's missed him. So, for however long this lasts, she will start from scratch.]

[When she smiles, after a moment's pause, it's soft and true.]

Ben. My name is Abigail. I don't think you know me, but I knew you once.

. . . Is it okay if I call you Ben? If I stay for a while?

[warisart]

[So many here know his name; a tremor runs through him so deep and so brittle that he doesn't so much as sway in his posture, and he stops himself from swallowing. He cannot stop his pulse from picking up.

He can see in the moment before she asks him questions that she recognizes him; others seem to, as well, and he doesn't know how that's possible. Perhaps another 490. Is there another named Ben?

Is it coincidence? He blinks and remembers to breathe.]

Yes ma'am. My designation is X5-493, but I am familiar with field names.

I have no memory of meeting you. I apologize.

[versusnurture]

It's okay. There's nothing to apologize for. You haven't met me yet. It's a long time until you meet me, I think, for you. Maybe more than a year.

Are you - [She wonders how to speak to him properly, so that he understands her concern at a level that makes sense to him.]

Are you well physically? Injured or ill? Have you been treated well since you came here? It's important to me that you've been treated well.

I'm not Manticore, [she hastens to add.] But it's still important.

[strangehistorian]

Ah, you too! Please be careful not to disrupt the timeline.

[versusnurture]

. . . I'll try not to, although I think I generally try not to.

Is there anything in particular I shouldn't do?

[strangehistorian]

Well, don't influence anyone's important choices using knowledge of the future, for one. And don't move towards preventing anything you know will happen, or cause anything you know did not happen.

[versusnurture]

I was going to just sort of have lunch. If that's okay.