Allison Argent (
theresalwayshope) wrote2015-05-11 01:14 pm
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31} just like a needle in a haystack, another day when we run with the wolfpack...
{forward dated to tomorrow, because the mun is impatient. :P}
[ACCIDENTAL PUBLIC VIDEO]
[When the feed flickers to life, it shows an unconscious Allison Argent, head half-buried in her pillow. The arm she has flung out towards the camera, fingertips looming large in the shot, show that she's the culprit who activated the transmission: more likely than not, she roused just enough to roll over and, in a sleepy haze, shut off a nonexistent alarm, inadvertently flicking on her video feed.
The dead transmission continues on until it is interrupted...she may be asleep, but Allison Argent's coma is officially over.]
[OPEN SPAM]
[Allison is in a miserable mood by the time she finally showers and gets dressed, heading to the dining hall to eat. For a while, she walks the corridors of the ship, just to stretch her legs and really start to feel awake again, with stops to pick up Brownie and Duchess along the way.
Once Brownie has been walked, unwilling to separate from them just yet, Allison finally heads for the pub. The keys jingle in her hand with a sad, hollow sound.
She files in with Brownie on her heels, surveying the place with a sigh. She'd requested custody of the place just after she realized Duke was gone, then fallen into another stupid coma before she could take proper care of it.
She missed him...Jesus, she missed him.
Taking a deep breath, she walked over to slip behind the bar, setting Duchess down on the end with her bandanna, some hay, and one of her chew toys to amuse her. Ever the responsible "mother," Brownie planted herself to lay on the floor directly under Duchess's perch while Allison began to shuffle around, looking over the glasses, booze, and anything else Duke might have left behind.
It was her place now...she had to learn how to keep it running.]
[ACCIDENTAL PUBLIC VIDEO]
[When the feed flickers to life, it shows an unconscious Allison Argent, head half-buried in her pillow. The arm she has flung out towards the camera, fingertips looming large in the shot, show that she's the culprit who activated the transmission: more likely than not, she roused just enough to roll over and, in a sleepy haze, shut off a nonexistent alarm, inadvertently flicking on her video feed.
The dead transmission continues on until it is interrupted...she may be asleep, but Allison Argent's coma is officially over.]
[OPEN SPAM]
[Allison is in a miserable mood by the time she finally showers and gets dressed, heading to the dining hall to eat. For a while, she walks the corridors of the ship, just to stretch her legs and really start to feel awake again, with stops to pick up Brownie and Duchess along the way.
Once Brownie has been walked, unwilling to separate from them just yet, Allison finally heads for the pub. The keys jingle in her hand with a sad, hollow sound.
She files in with Brownie on her heels, surveying the place with a sigh. She'd requested custody of the place just after she realized Duke was gone, then fallen into another stupid coma before she could take proper care of it.
She missed him...Jesus, she missed him.
Taking a deep breath, she walked over to slip behind the bar, setting Duchess down on the end with her bandanna, some hay, and one of her chew toys to amuse her. Ever the responsible "mother," Brownie planted herself to lay on the floor directly under Duchess's perch while Allison began to shuffle around, looking over the glasses, booze, and anything else Duke might have left behind.
It was her place now...she had to learn how to keep it running.]
[private]
[And she was worried. And upset. And she could really have used her best friend being around a couple nights ago when she was making mistakes and torturing people.
So she might be a little shorter than usual.]
[private]
And she is, to reiterate, pissed off.]
Another coma? Are you fucking kidding me with this--give me five minutes to change my clothes, Lydia. I'm coming over there...are you in Stiles' cabin or yours?
[private]
[And she wants to see Allison, and she'll be glad to have five minutes until she gets here. But she needs to make sure of one thing first.]
Are you okay to come over?
[private]
Thank you for protecting me from coma art, by the way...I'll see you in a few?
[private]
You're welcome.
Take a shower, take your time. I'll be here. [At least now that she's awake, they can plan that trip.]
[private] --> [spam]
She takes more like thirty to forty minutes, luxuriating in the shower (she doesn't care what anyone says, she can feel the coma on her, the two weeks of sleep and the lack of activity clinging to her skin and muscles and gritty in her eyes.). She changes into leggings and a sports bra, throwing an oversized t-shirt over it that slouches off one shoulder because the gym is next, so she can remind her body what it feels like to move again.
Later, she'll hit the pub. Now that Duke is gone, it's her responsibility. She made sure of that.
So, later than she promised, Allison is knocking on the door of Lydia's cabin. Once the door is answered, the first important issue springs to her lips.]
Who's been taking care of Brownie and Duchess while I was out?
[spam]
Tig has Brownie. He has been checking in on you a lot, too. And Stiles has Duchess. We've been keeping an eye on her.
[She'll give her a moment to digest that information and to say hi to Prada who is now jumping at her feet and barking, begging for attention.]
[spam]
I love my pack...they're great, huh, Prada? [She switches to baby talk as she holds up Prada and makes kissy faces at him, which he returns with kisses of his own.] Isn't your mommy and Papa Stiles and Uncle Tigger the bestest packmates ever? Yes, they are!
[Dissolving into giggles, she tucks Prada under her arm, then reaches out for Lydia with her free one as she steps into Lydia's cabin.] Mmmmm...it's weird, but I can feel that I haven't seen you. Stupid fucking comas...
[spam]
It's not just a hug, though. She's holding on to her like she's missed her, but also like she really needed her to have been there. And she did.
Not having her there a couple of nights ago made her remember how lost she'd felt before she made her deal, how broken and how much of a failure she was when she let Allison die. And how much of a failure she is now when she pushed an inmate even further away from any kind of rehabilitation he might have managed.]
I missed you.
[spam]
I know, sweetie...shhh, I'm here now. I've got you.
[She holds on, and stays there until Lydia pulls away first. When she does, she searches her best friend's eyes with a look of concern.]
What happened? What don't I know?
[spam]
She doesn't feel that way anymore. She knows she has them, all of them, whenever she needs. She also knows that they won't turn their backs on her, no matter what she does.]
I screwed up. [And that's not something she's used to doing.]
[spam]
Placing Prada in Lydia's arms, she makes sure the door is shut tight behind her, then drapes an arm around Lydia's shoulders to steer her over to the couch. Once they're both seated, she gently tugs Lydia close enough that she can rest her head on Allison's shoulder, and Allison can rest her own head atop Lydia's. It's animal instinct to pull her close, to comfort through touch.]
Tell me what happened, sweetie.
[spam]
I was assigned to Arthas, as a temporary Warden this month. Letty told me he was going to come after her when he got out of zero and I wanted to make sure he couldn't hurt anyone.
[Her face falls and she shakes her head slightly, trying not to move much not to disturb Allison.]
I ended up hurting him instead.
[spam]
She doesn't know Arthas well...but she knows enough about him to be perplexed.]
Arthas? Sweetie...how did you hurt Arthas?
[spam]
She hates repeating this story, but it also serves her as a reminds of what not to do next time.]
Letty told me he was going to kill her, or try to, when he got out of zero. I wanted to stop him from killing anyone. But I also wanted him to understand what was happening, so I knew that just removing his will to kill wouldn't work.
[She sighs, rubbing a hand over her eyes.]
I turned him into a rabbit. I made him powerless, defenseless, and trapped him into a body that wasn't his.
[spam]
[Allison blinked, shocked for the moment. For one thing, she's not sure how she could have done that (unless Dillon could turn people into rabbits, the way he turned Jerry human? The Admiral wasn't likely to approve a request like that...). For another, it was so...extreme. There were other ways, and Lydia was a creative person, but a rabbit?]
Sweetie, why? There are a million other ways you could have stopped him. [There's no judgment in her gentle tone, and her hand drifts up to stroke Lydia's hair, straying to occasionally smooth a stray tendril back against her temple or off her forehead.] You could have asked the Admiral to make it impossible for him to touch a weapon, or you could have had him assigned to work in the infirmary for a while and had the Admiral restrict his movements...or you could have asked the Admiral to give Letty some kind of protection. You could have asked the Admiral for anything else...why did you ask for that?
[spam]
[She sighs deeply, letting Allison talk. But starts to shake her head as she goes on. Lydia sits up slightly so she can look at her best friend as she tells her this:]
The Admiral isn't here, Allison. I didn't ask for anything, I just-- did it myself. We don't know what's happening, but he seems to be gone and we can do things. Things only he could do.