thelegion | [ TEXT ] SENDING OUT AN S.O.S. TO THE WORLD

Entry tags:

[ TEXT ] SENDING OUT AN S.O.S. TO THE WORLD

Quick Check in for Members of Project Freelancer, the UNSC, and our mutual associates- or anyone that wants to get word out about themselves having changed or not changed or...whatever. Has questions? This is Agent York and Delta, so far we're unaffected by this time ripple thing. Connie, North, Wash, Grif, Chief, Theta, Cortana, Locus, Azucar, Parker, Pidge, Fareeha, Amélie - and anyone else I'm forgetting, shoot me a text back, alright?

I'll deliver pancakes and blankets or other care package items if needed. If you'd rather come talk in person swing by my habitat, I'll be hanging in the bar. Directions are below. Also, Jason- buddy? Swing by, I feel like I owe you a beer.

[ In neat green lines there's a little holographic map showing how to get to York's dive bar from the recipient's current location, wherever they might be. ]

Specific refreshments are available upon request.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I don't think North is coming.

Why would that be? Is he injured?

No he's okay! But he's-

[Ellipses are pointless when they communicate in precisely-timed pings and the trailing-off is palpable in the exchange between them, as is the sudden flurry of Theta compiling and sending several pictures covertly taken of North's face while he was examining the communicator. It's him, though edging into his late teens at the oldest, silver ring curled around his lower lip and hair a white-blond, unruly fluff well past regulation length.]

A teenager.

[ Interesting. ]

Do you think you could convince him to send a message back in response? Taylor is growing anxious.

He's not going to know who I am.

[The tone is all metadata, little scraps of nonsense that maybe only make sense between the two of them, common root that they share. But it's perfectly clear for what it is. He's afraid.]

...do you wish to stay with Taylor and I until North returns to his usual age?

[ Caring algorithms, activate. This is his brother, someone for whom he feels particularly protective- almost as much as he does Taylor. His being afraid will not stand. ]

We can meet him in person and explain you to him together, if you like.

[He hesitates, just a moment, and there's a sense of no before the words, an intangible head-shake.]

It's okay. He doesn't know I can watch from the communicator, and he's keeping that around all the time. And . . . I'm supposed to keep him safe. So if he's in trouble at least I can pretend to call him, or something.

Right?

[He hopes that's a good idea. He's really used to having North to bounce his ideas off of.]

[ Delta's little digital heart clenches. All that fear, all that determination. Did the Director ever know what it was he made when they were born? Did he ever care? With as much warmth as he can offer- which is more than he'd ever thought possible? He responds. ]

That is an excellent idea, Theta. Would you mind if I sent Taylor to check in on North in person without mentioning either of us?
He is determined to be a 'responsible adult' while he is still able.

If we are fortunate, nothing will explode.

[Delta is funny, in his own way. It makes everything a little more familiar, even without the anchor of his assigned Freelancer or the comforting hum of his neurons lighting in familiar rhythms. It makes everything a little closer to okay.]

That sounds really good. Thanks, Delta.

Edited 2017-06-03 22:49 (UTC)

[ Anchors of normalcy. Constants in the stream of variable data flung at them from their partners or the world- if he can be that for his brother? He will. If he can be that for York? He will. It is as much his purpose as minding them in the field. ]

We will be right there.

[ Sure enough Taylor's wandering up the drive, hands slung low in his jeans, dressed in civvies to keep from spooking the kid. ]

Hey, Gabe!

[It's been a pretty productive morning. Gabriel's learned that he is apparently a superhero who has been de-aged to his teenaged self. He's surmised that this is probably his house - his future-self's house, anyway - and has felt subsequently much better about helping himself to its contents.

And he's figured out flying, which is how he's come to be seated on the roof. With a beer that is definitely to his tastes.]

Hey yourself!

[He calls back cheerfully enough, though without too much enthusiasm. Whoever this is, he doesn't remember a thing about them.]

Oh dear lord he is a childrens. [ He mutters under his breath, a sentiment Delta snips, clips, and sends right along to Theta in hopes of lightening the mood. For a moment York just...stares.

He's never been older back home, till here. He's never been THIS MUCH older, period. It takes half a step before he's hovering- walking in the air like climbing stairs. A trick he taught himself for style points forever ago. ]

You don't know me right now, bud, but I'm Taylor and we're kinda best friends. [ A beat as he draws up to the edge of the roof. ] When you're grown. And aren't you too young to be having beer right now?

[ He's pretty sure. Mostly sure. ]

It's German beer, and I'm legal in Germany.

[He leans back on one palm, lets the opposite foot slide out, and takes an easy, leisurely drink, go ahead and stop me distilled through all the sinewy self-assurance of a teenage honor-roll jock.

Who now knows that he's a superhero.]

Kinda harsh to go all babysitter on your friends, don't you think, Taylor?

Loopholes don't work on me kiddo.

[ He might feel bad about this later, but in the moment? Protecting his bro's bitty babby liver takes priority. At least till he's conned into changing his mind. His fingers flick and curl, the universal 'gimme' wiggle, while his good eye glows pale blue. Don't you wanna listen to him? Isn't he reasonable? ]

Hand it over, yeah? Besides, stealing your beer is how I became your friend.

[ Not entirely untrue, that. ]

It's not exactly a loophole when you've lived there.

[He stubbornly takes another drink, holding eye contact, a defiant glint in his eye that makes it far less mysterious how he and his sister could be twins.

And then he realizes that the beer is getting kind of warm. And flat. Sure, best-buddy-Taylor can have his warm beer, there are three more cold ones inside.]

You're going to have to explain how that one works.

I'm gonna add that to 'list of shit you've never told me' and make a point to ask about it when you're aged up again.

[ York shrugs and pops a squat next to Gabriel, slinging his legs out and leaning back on his elbows as he downs the rest of the beer in a few swallows. He's always got the better stuff honestly. ]

It's kinda complicated, involves both the military and a secret special ops project that involves power armor and science and a lot of getting shot at. But we're basically best bros, man. Buddy cop dudes. Except you're the older more rational one, South's the rude gives no fucks loose canon, and I'm the kickass pretty one.

South?

[All of that sounds pretty fantastically involved, but at least plausible. More plausible than the superhero stuff, honestly. He knows that the military is pulling out all the stops in the war effort.]

Oh, shit, right- your sister. Lindsay. We're bros too, but most people don't think it cuz she's. Well. The way she is. But it's nice to have a friend that gives exactly zero fucks and is as brutally honest as you can possibly get away with- and still laugh at all the terrible shit you go through.

[ Because, kidlet, there is so much terrible shit in your future. ]

Y'all make the grade together. It's pretty impressive when you work an op together, at least till shit starts going sideways. But that's a long boring story and I'm just glad you're okay. If. Bittified.

[He releases a quiet breath, one he hadn't intended to hold or even known he was holding, because even if Taylor's kind of a jackass and might have just used some kind of superpower to steal his (admittedly warm) beer, that's been the future he wants for a long time now. Whatever he an Lindsay are doing, they're doing it together, and they're amazing at it.

Maybe Taylor isn't so bad. He gets points for not tiptoeing around how Linds is just because she's his sister. As if spending his whole life next to her he'd somehow magically never noticed.

They're points he puts on hold, temporarily, at that 'bittified.' Though it's easily enough remedied with a calm, pointed look that isn't too far removed from its older version.]

How tall are you, bro?

[Just. Asking an innocent question. With just the slightest amount of stress on that term of endearment.]

So yeah. South. North and South Dakota. The twins. Kind of infamous in the Project. [ He rolls the empty bottle of beer around in his palm, eyes on the hazy horizon of Gabe's habitat. It's...nice to be able to think back to the handful of good things in the Project. The camaraderie, the pride, the way they all fell in together when they needed to.

Meeting them. Getting under their skin, letting them get under his. ] First time I felt comfortable there, really, was when we all started hanging out.

[ Something he never told older North cuz. Well. Bros don't talk about that shit. His head lolls on his shoulders as he rolls it around to look at Gabe, good eye glinting with humor. ]

Dude you're supposed to be two decades older. I'm supposed to be younger than you by like, two years. Not older by twenty eight- oh god I could be your dad.

[Wow. It seems like they really are friends. Will be friends?

Geez, the verb tenses are going to get confusing on this one. He's mulling that over when Taylor looks at him, and he glances back, snorting at that observation.]

I don't think it really gets weird until you try to act like my dad. [He gives Taylor's shoe a tap with his own, smirking slightly.] Come on. I can't be completely helpless if I make it into my thirties.

Oh god no, you're the older and more responsible one between the two of us. I am the charismatic fuckup. [ That's his role, he likes that role, this whole thing is messing with his head could they not? Please? ] Nah, you're alright. It's just- A lot of people are younger. A lot of them are confused. I was hoping to not have to be the Responsible Authority Figure. I'm bad at that.

If you really need me to prove I'm responsible right now, I can roll out the whole song and dance. [It feels weird, having to tell his supposed best friend this basic stuff, like that he's lived cumulative years in Germany or that he's still able to take care of himself even at the tender age when it's absolutely legal to fling yourself into humanity's vastest war.] I've been doing it enough for university admissions boards.

Nah, I can swing it. I think.

[ He's gonna give it the old college try. ]

...Seriously, dude, you never told me about any of this shit. The boarding school shit, the lip piercing punk twink shit, the being absolutely loaded shit. I'm kinda hurt.

[He lifts a very pale eyebrow, which rises only higher with the litany of his apparent omissions.]

Did I have reason to think you'd give Lindsay and I endless amounts of shit over it?

[His guess is 'yes,' if Taylor is rolling out gems like lip piercing punk twink to his face.]

text

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

text > action

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject