001} video: if love is what you need, a soldier i will be

[theresalwayshope]

[When the video switches on, Allison's face fills the screen in extreme close-up, an intensely thoughtful look on her features as she struggles to navigate the function of her communicator.]

C'mon...are you even on? [Her voice is low and impatient...then her expression comes alive when she realizes she's on display. Flinching a little, then smiling at her work, she backs up enough to be seen, visible seated at the desk in her cabin.]

Hi. [She smiles and offers up a little wave, then pauses for a moment before laughing as she lets her gaze drop.] Okay, this is way weirder than I thought it was going to be.

[She starts talking with her hands a little, not quite speaking to the communicator anymore.] I guess...I'm just restless. Out of practice, I haven't had to move around for a long time. I haven't been assigned to anyone just yet, but I know I will be. And I just want to introduce myself, you know? Put myself out there for anyone who wants my help. And I honestly do want to help. It's why I came.

[She lifts her head more fully, looking into the communicator with something a little different in her gaze...a little less friendly teenager and a little harder, a little older.]

It's...one reason I came.

[The moment passes, the look fades, and her smile brightens again as she takes a steadying breath.]

But I'm not here to complain about myself, right? So! Um... [A hand goes to her chest as she gestures to herself.] My name is Allison, I'm from Beacon Hills, California...and if any of you need anything at all? Just let me know. I look forward to getting to know everyone!

[She shifts, and part of her body moves out of the picture.]

Now if you'll excuse me...I still have to get settled in.

[She turns around to survey the rest of her room...neat as a pin, in perfect order...not a lot to be settled, really.]

Or...not...

Comments

[lydiascreams]

[Lydia is asleep when she starts hearing her voice. She doesn't even know she's back at the Barge. All she remembers is the darkness, the lack of fresh air, the death that surrounded her. She expects to find herself in Oak Creek, that's where she usually is in her dreams that involve Allison.

But Allison keeps talking and it pulls her from her sleep. She sees the light of her comm on the bed next to her and reaches for it, smiling softly when she sees Allison's face on the screen. At least this dream doesn't involve her dying. And Lydia can only wish her best friend is at the Barge, but she's not. It's just a dream.

Slowly, she pushes herself up and winces. Her body is sore and bruised from running in the dark and falling during the Port. She's exhausted but-- she normally doesn't feel pain in her dreams. And her room looks exactly how she left it, even in the darkness -- which still isn't as dark as it was back wherever they were -- she can see the boots she had set aside to wear if they needed to do some kind of rock climbing. Not that she had time to pick them up before they landed.

And Allison is still there.

She lifts the comm and watches her best friend for a moment, her head still too fuzzy to really make sense of whether or not this is a dream, although it has to be, right?

Still, Lydia runs her fingers through her hair and starts her feed.]

Allison? [Her voice is small, tired, raspy. And her looks match it.]

[maced_eggs]

You've just arrived, yes? No hurry, love, they won't assign you for a few months yet. Look at me; they haven't given me a personal keeper yet an' I've been here weeks and weeks.

California? Fuck, imagine that. I'm from Seattle. My name's Mason.

Here, what size clothes do you wear? It's for a friend.

Spam }

[semifreakingnormal]

[After getting breath back in his lungs, and getting back to the Barge, Scott only had the energy to make sure everyone was okay - and if they weren't, to make sure they were back. Tired or not, he would have jumped over the freaking rail if anyone had been left behind. They weren't - everyone got back okay, and that was enough. He'd passed out without even bothering to shower, practically falling over his bed when he finally got in. It didn't matter that he was still dirty and sweaty - he's going to have to wash everything.

It doesn't really matter now, either, as he rolls over and just spreads the grossness around his blanket. He's just awake enough to realize that he never kicked off his shoes. He's just awake enough to hear her.

And that's not so unusual: he dreams about her, sometimes. The worst ones are when she's falling, and he's stuck and can't dive after her. The best ones are when none of this ever happened, when they're just talking or laughing.

He's not sure which one this is. It doesn't feel the same, and the fact that he's thinking about dreams makes him think that maybe he's not actually dreaming. He doesn't have lucid dreams. Which means....which means, what?

Scott pushes himself up, taking a deep breath just to remind himself that he can, that he's not going to have another asthma attack. He's himself again. It takes a moment for him to rub his eyes and fumble for the communicator, and when he does, all he can do is stare. No. No, he's dreaming. Right? He has to be dreaming. He closes his eyes tight and shakes his head, but he doesn't know how to wake himself up. He's not sure it's real. There was so much over the last few days that just weren't, but this--

He swallows hard and stands, tossing the device down on his bed - now covered in dirt - and heads for the door. There's one way to know.

When he catches her scent, he staggers. He stops and counts his fingers, because he remembers Stiles saying that was a good way to tell a dream from reality. It's real. She's here. He doesn't care how he looks, he doesn't notice that his eyes are damp, he just follows her scent like a beacon, running down the stairs to the floor below and skidding to a halt.

For a moment he hesitates - he knows this door, and it feels less like a dream, but if it's not - if it's real--

He doesn't let himself finish that thought, banging open handed on the door instead.]

video;

[notdreaming]

[ Kara's in an increasingly good mood as she camps out in the CES. Good enough to greet newcomers, that's for sure. The only thing visible in the background is clouds and blue skies. ]

Welcome to the barge, Allison! I'm Kara Zor-El. I've never been to California, but I've heard good things about it.

[punched_hitler]

Beacon Hills, huh? It's a popular place.

[The weirdest part is, he's got memories of it even though he's never actually been there. Thank you, recent flood.] I know a Scott and Stiles from there - though they might've already found you, if you know them.

It's nice to meet you, Allison. I'm Steve. I'm pretty new here, myself, but I think you'll get the hang of it pretty quick. [Whether you want to or not.]

[patheticvillain]

Wait. Aren't you--

[Brain-mouth filter engage. Something less intense and crazy than you're dead. Um.]

--Scott's friend?

[Nailed it.]

[bodilesswarrior]

Weird, isn't it? [Her grin is wry, and almost obscures the pale, strained weariness. That was one hell of a port.] Perfect replica of the moment you left it.

Welcome to the Barge, it only gets stranger. I'm Barbara.

[imfollowinghim]

[Fortunately, Bucky's showered, shaved, slept and eaten before responding to this post, which means he looks less like he's coming straight from a war zone than he would have if he'd seen it right after he got back from port. As it is though, he's wearing his regular combat uniform, so he still looks like an escapee from the set of a World War II movie.]

Assignments happen on the 15th and 30th of the month. You don't always get assigned right off the bat, but sometimes, you get lucky.

I guess this means you know the rest of the Beacon Hills crew.

[myresponsibility]

[Oh.

Wow.

Peter's smart enough not to just. Click on the video feed the second he hears that name and that city and stare like an idiot until he knows what to say, so he has that moment in private for a long, long time before clicking on the feed to reply.

Does she know what happened to here? How are they going to keep that a secret?]

I mean, [God, this is crazy. How is Scott handling it?] There're other ways to settle in. Have you been up on deck, yet? It's kind of crazy.

[diealone]

Trust me, you won't be the only one complaining about yourself.

[He's joking, but also not. Jack's in the infirmary, wearing clean blue scrubs and a white lab coat. He maybe looks a little tired, but definitely seems better off than most of the other people who responded right after port ended.]

So, you're Scott's Allison. [Which he's saying sort of to make fun of Scott, but also lol he does talk a lot about you. BV Or did, anyway.]

[routemistress]

[Have a cheerful blonde lady grinning at you, Allison. Iris is outdoors, her video feed wobbling as the two German Shepherds and the pit bull terrier with her dance around jockeying for the next frisbee throw.]

Beacon 'Ills? Friend of our Scott and Stiles and Lydia, then? Quantum resonance strikes again, eh? Welcome aboard, Allison lovey!

[Voice]

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

[It's her first Barge death, in three years. More than three years. Maybe she ought to win a prize for it. It wouldn't be much consolation, though. Her thoughts drift as she lays in the infirmary, sometimes sharing the bed with her wolf, sometimes not. Nymeria has gone off for the moment, and Arya doesn't have the energy to worry about her half-wild friend. Nymeria will find her way into the CES, or she'll eat one of the pets people have. Arya can't bring herself to care.

She cares a lot about the woman who killed her, though, enough that she has been stalking the network, looking for her. Her memories are fuzzy, a priestess in red. But there are none here.

Sometimes, she lets other things distract her, because frowning as hard as she is just makes everything hurt worse. When she sees a new face, she keeps her response to audio, voice crackling with disuse and pain.]

You look settled in.