burnmythoughts | 19

[Private to David, Arkin and Marsh, separately]

I know that wasn't us, but...I wanted to know how you were doing.

[Private to Ben]

How are you?

[Private to Alex]

How d'you feel about another sparring match?

[Spam - OTA]

[Not thinking about it has become a survival tactic on the barge.

It's easier, this time, as the memories fade like forgotten photographs. But she still remembers being lost and lonely, being horrified and trapped.

She's thrown herself back into life on the Barge as much as she can, chasing away the past with the present, even as her bones ache with it. At least she can walk around.

That's what she's doing now, gingerly stretching her legs on the deck as she finishes sending her messages.]

[Spam - For Charles]

[She can only Not Think About Things for so long, though. Her first and best coping method was always doing something. Sparring with Alex helped, but she didn't want to push herself too far physically, not yet. So she went to the kitchens, and she did something challenging.

There's a bit of smoke, and a bit of cursing, and they don't come out nearly as good as Anya's, but they taste pretty good. Eventually, she has a decent-sized tray of thumbprint cookies, and she lets them cool before sliding them into a container.

Then she heads up to Charles' room, letting the cookies float in front of her. She even uses them to knock on the door.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I think plums. So far.

[Jean cocks her head slightly.] I don't know if they make plum sorbet, but you could look. Or ask.

I will see.

Where should I bring your rocky road?

[He can't actually see the background on the communicator screen.]

I'm in my room - 416.

Very well.

[A little while later, he knocks awkwardly, balancing bowls, spoons, and cartons of both rocky road and peach sorbet.]

[Jean's been sitting by the door, leaning back in the little armchair as she peruses an old book, so she's there in a few seconds to pull it open.

She grins, holding out a hand.]

Here, let me help with that. [And if he lets them, everything begins to float from his grasp.]

[He lets go gingerly when he feels pressure tugging at them; it's strange to see objects pulled so slowly, in lines other than neat trajectories based on an allomancer's center of gravity, and not all of them metal, but it's a very small oddity in the scheme of things.]

I hope you're not taxing yourself.

[Big Brother Lecture Voice is at the ready, Jean. You have been through an Ordeal.]

[Jean rolls her eyes as she steps backwards, but her smile only widens. The concern feels nice - and she remembers how much she cherished it it, too, as that lost little girl.

I'm not, I promise. I -

[And that's when her eyes go wide, and the sherbet wavers dangerously.

She doesn't pry into peoples' minds without permission, not unless she has damn good reason, but she's aware of them all the same - and something is very, very wrong.]

[For Marsh, the pain and damage is old and constant. He sees the sherbet wobble and and catches it in a smooth rush of speed, then scowls at her.]

Really.

Sorry. I'm sorry. [The apology is rushed and earnest, the words stumbling into each other. Still, she steadies the spoons.]

Are you - can I - sorry.

[He snatches those out of the air as well, a small iron-fueled pull behind it.]

Just rest. I can handle it fine.

[Jean lets them go, nodding. She does her best to pull her mind back, not to feel the open wounds in his, even if it feels wrong to just leave them there. It's his choice, and if she doesn't respect that than she's no better.

And she won't let herself get caught up in the rage stirring in her stomach. Maybe later.]

Okay.

[Now she just feels awkward.]

...So, um, I made us a table. [Meaning she pulled out her computer desk and set her armchairs next to it. She gestures toward it with a lopsided smile.]

[He nods, still stern, but in the vaguely approving way, both at her acquiescence and the makeshift industriousness of the construction. He scoops rocky road and sets it in front of her to avoid the temptation to levitate it - he still misunderstands the cause of her faltering.]

[Jean pulls the bowl close, lifting her spoon and mustering a smile.] Nothing better than chocolate to make you feel better.

...Do they have chocolate, where you're from?

19 - Video

[private, video] because Marsh's deadpan is hilarious that's why

[private, video]

[private, video]

[private, video]

[private, video] => spam

spam

spam

spam

spam

Re: spam

spam

spam

spam

i never got this notif sob