20} didn't hear the confession...walking through the procession...

[theresalwayshope]

[SUNDAY SPAM]

[...something isn't right.

The whole day is off, and Allison can't...function properly. In the dining hall, she gets her usual blood bag, but she finds herself skipping the apples she usually grabs along with it. The food on the line smells good, the savory aromas drawing her attention...

Before she knows what she's doing, she's grabbed a couple of croissants as well, and not unlike her first day, she takes her food on deck to eat. The blood, and the croissants, do wonders for her mood.

And that's the most difficult part of the day: her mood. As she slinks through the corridors as she trails her friends through the ship...as she checks on Isaac and Tig, she's having a harder and harder time setting her feelings aside.

Something isn't right. All day, something is wrong, and she can't...quite...put her finger on it...]

[MONDAY SPAM]

[Allison is gone.

She hasn't left the ship, but there's no sign of her anywhere. She doesn't show up for meals in the dining hall, she doesn't stalk a soul, she's completely absent, a non-presence on the ship.

Because Allison is sitting in her cabin, in the dark, on the floor in the corner of her bedroom. The stakes gifted to her by Jerry's mirror counterpart are clutched to her chest, and she's armed with every single weapon she can comfortably stash on her person: her ring daggers, her father's gun, every folding knife she can possibly conceal, her quiver propped up beside her, and her recurve bow laying beside her on the floor.

She's not afraid of an attack: the weapons are her. They keep her rooted in the present, they remind her of who she is, how she thinks, what she feels.

She doesn't eat, but her stomach growls. She doesn't go for water, but her throat burns with thirst that blood won't slake.

Eventually, she will have to leave and seek out nourishment. Eventually, she will have to face the rest of the ship. Eventually, Allison will have to face the reality of truly being an omega, because this is bigger than fighting with Lydia.

She remembers everything she did, everyone she hurt...those she killed and nearly killed.

She knows that now, after all that...she is truly, completely alone.

And she will have to leave her cabin to face that eventually...she just can't bring herself to do it just yet.]

Comments

[with_my_teacup]

[There's a knock at the door.]

Hey, Argent. Heard you were eyeing food with an actual nutritional content the other day.

[hearrrtofgold]

[Duke is up and about on Sunday, still shaken from his encounter with Tig. He won't admit it, but Tig and Allison are why he's carrying an extra gun today, and three vials of Troubled blood -- one in each pocket, one in the sleeve of his jacket. It's heavy preparation for walking the dog, but Duke doesn't believe in leaving his weaknesses unguarded.

When they find Allison on the deck, Brownie doesn't growl like she did at Tig. She gives a friendly bark and sits down, awaiting the ear-scratches she's grown to expect from Allison. Duke hangs back, one hand in his pocket, watching Allison eat the bloody croissants.]

You look like Hell.

[Monday Spam]

[400yearsofsurvival]

[ Unlike on the other barge, Jerry had taken a very hands-off approach with Allison. He'd been very involved with the progress of those he'd turned on the mirror side. But both Mickey and Chris had been so much more receptive. They'd listened to him. Done as they were told. But not Allison. Yet another frustrating limit on his power. But having turned Mickey twice, he had a decent sense of how long the whole thing would stick. And he needed to know if it was the same on this side.

So he was waiting for her when she finally emerged from her cabin. Perched against the ceiling, immediately above her door. Once she was out of her room, he dropped down, putting himself between her and the door so she couldn't duck back inside. He only needed a moment to assess her state. She was human again, just barely. So the time limit was, in fact, the same. ]

Not feeling so well, Allison?

[ He actually sounded concerned. Looked it, too. The perfect ruse. Though he expected far more violence than the other two had shown. He doubted she'd ask to be turned again. ]

[text/private]

[routemistress]

[after the conclusion of this thread]

sry Allison I had to kill Tiggy a bit.

[SUNDAY]

[termofendearment]

[Tig isn't anywhere to be found.

Well. Not at first, anyway; it's Sunday that his mocking and stalking finally catch up to him, a friendly face turned murderess in the face of too-harsh malicious cheer and false biology, and when he's finally back in one piece it's to white walls and harsh lights and a wall of exhaustion and he's not supposed to feel like this anymore.

He finds his communicator tucked away in a pocket and absently turns it over between his fingers after fishing it out. He feels like he got run over by a truck and his chest feels like it's going to fucking explode and it wants to keep expanding and contracting like he needs to breathe but it hurts. And on top of everything else he's starving, a gnawing, churning feeling mixed with the unsettled stomach the Toll's already given him but he thinks about opening a throat to fix it but the thought doesn't make him practically drool like it has been. He wants a beer and a cheeseburger and that's fucking ridiculous.

Eventually he taps out a message.]


[TEXT -- locked to Allison]

your mission statement sucks

Monday Spam

[voluntaryapnea]

[He sits outside her cabin, back to the wall, knees pulled up to his chest and arms resting on them as he stares blankly at the opposite wall. It's probably not safe considering Jerry's out there still, but he's tired of hiding.

It's been a shitty few days, with Allison turning and then trying to turn Isaac. With everything that's happened. He doesn't know what to do, so he sits and waits.

There's probably no one she knows on the ship more aware of how awful it is to have your own mind and body turned against you, to hurt people that you care about than him. So he waits, silent and still. More still than he usually ever is.]

[Monday Spam]

[semifreakingnormal]

[She smells different. That's how he knows. He doesn't go looking for her, not after their fight, but he can smell the change outside her cabin. So he slows, and stops, and stares at her door for a very, very long time.

He doesn't know if she wants him there. If feels like they've been at opposite ends of a book for a long time, and they're not sure how to meet each other halfway.

But he can't just walk off, he knows that much. So he knocks. And he hopes she'll answer.]

sunday spam;

[freezerburns]

[This week - absolutely one of the worst weeks of Isaac's life - has fallen into a strange hellish kind of routine after he gets himself patched up and lets go of just enough guilt to get himself healing again.

Sometimes he feels like he's dreaming it, it's so messed up. He gets up, he eats something, and then sometime during the day he finds Allison or she finds him, he spends time with this utterly wrong twisted version of her, because he can't bear to be away from her and because of how badly he failed her. It's like penance. Some part of him feels like he needs to watch her to keep her from hurting anyone else or to keep anyone else from hurting her. Maybe death toll would be the way to reset her, but he can't kill her. He can't let anyone else kill her either.

So he checks up on her or waits until she checks up on him and every time he sees her or smells her it feels like it's ripping another hole inside him. By Sunday, he's almost used to it. That's the worst thing of all.]

Hey.

[Monday Spam]

[lydiascreams]

[She hasn't seen Allison. Not all day today, anyway. She saw her yesterday and she felt something off. But not in a bad way. Allison felt more-- there than she had when they first met up on the deck.

Lydia's asked around. No one's seen her. She hasn't been to the kitchen to pick up a blood bag.

It's the crash Lydia warned her about from day one. She knew it was coming, she expected it'd take longer, but apparently it's already here.

So she grabs one of the blood bags herself and heads over to Allison's room. Although she knocks on the door, she doesn't say a word.]