009} tell me, tell me, can you feel the pressure?

[theresalwayshope]

[Public Video]

[The first thing that's clear, to anyone that knows Allison from home, is that something's...off. Her expression is a little harder, her jaw set a little differently, and he's holding herself with a little more authority, a little more readiness.

She seems a little more not like the head of the Argent clan they know, but the head of the Argent clan that Gerard molded in his own image.]

That pillow fort flood was kind of interesting, but I wanted to kinda touch base about the stuff before that. The..communications glitch thing? I was curious: who all did everyone get to talk to? Was it good for you? Or was it...rough?

[She's in the CES today, where off to one side, she's been visibly busy putting arrows in the trees. The location resembles a clearing in the Beacon Hills Preserve she favors for shooting, since it's a pretty broad clearing with a minimal risk of someone taking a stray shot unless they plant themselves directly in front of the paper target she's got tacked up. At the same time, she swears she can occasionally catch the cold, crisp smell of brine in the air...she's blaming her recent conversations with Duke about his hometown in Maine and her own distant memories of a couple months spent living in Augusta.

Her comm is propped on a low tree branch, which is still almost at head height, but she's standing back far enough that she can be seen to the waist, at a slightly downward angle. Her bow is slung across her back, her quiver over one shoulder, and she's still wearing both her arm guard and her glove.]

I know it was kinda nice for some, and for others...

[She trails off, thinking of Tig as she swallows thickly, and of her father as she draws a shaky sigh. Her expression is a little colder, a little more distant.

She doesn't finish. Instead, she gathers her composure and swaps between filters for a few specific messages.]

[Private to Mindy Macready]

So, random question: would you hate me if I wanted to do something? Like, ridiculous and ubergirly and probably unnecessary, but...it could be totally fun, and I really, really think it could be awesome? It's actually related to me asking if you had any interest in the basic training course Bucky Barnes is doing. Most of my friends are doing wit with me, and you're one of maybe a couple people that's missing.

So...I'm asking if you want to do boot camp, and asking if you...well, let's call it the Barge equivalent of a makeover-slash-shopping spree.

Interested?

[Barge Pack Filter - includes Beacon Hills folks, Duke Crocker, Tig Trager, Needy Lesnicki]

If you can see this, you're...part of my pack. My pack, I mean...I'm still getting to know some people, so I know we're all not necessarily best friends with everyone else's best friends. But, uhm...friends and pack mean different things to me, some of you may already know that. I've got a growing list of friends on this ship so far, but if you can see this? You're more than that. You're family, you're...sort of...mine.

Losing any of you would be losing a limb.

Anyway, I just wanted a way to talk to you all together for personal stuff, so first order of business? If you're not already in Bucky's boot camp, get there. Sign up, get permission from your wardens, whatever. Because if you don't, I'm going to mercilessly badger you. And if you're a macho manly type, I will resort to dirty female tactics. Like crying. All over you. Big, ugly, howling female tears in public places.

[The threat is real, but it's delivered with a small smile that makes her look a little less severe.]

[Private to Scott, Stiles, Lydia, and Isaac]

[There are definite cracks in the chilly veneer now...as evidenced by tears in Allison's eyes as she takes a wet, wobbly breath.]

Erica's on the Barge. I saw her message when she arrived, I...don't know if any of you have talked to her yet or seen her. I...haven't spoken to her yet.

[She pauses, and covers her mouth with one hand as she fights to hold it together. When she tries to speak again, her voice is thick and breathless, and her hand is shaking as it pulls away from her mouth.]

The Alphas may have killed her, but...I'm responsible for her death. If she'd stayed with Derek, if...if I hadn't drawn her and Boyd out...

[The rest of the sentiment finishes in her mind, unspoken.

She died because of me.

Allison knows Erica will come for her the second she knows Allison is on board. The second she's healed, the second she's ready.

And Allison isn't entirely sure she won't be killed, but she doesn't really care. For once, she's making light of the death toll. If Erica feels she has to go that far, Allison doesn't really know that she can stop her without killing Erica herself.

And she won't do that. Not now.]

I don't know where to start. I don't know what to do.

[CES Spam]

[After she cuts off the feed completely, the bow and quiver come off and are laid aside so she can move for freely, and for a while Allison finds a nearby tree to sit beneath and cry. She's alone, there's no one there...for a second, she's safe.

Tears turn into open weeping. Weeping turns into sobbing. It's the ugly kind of sobbing you don't get to see on TV or in the movies. It's not shrieking hysterics and beating fists...it's more like strangled, broken screaming she swiftly loses control over. It's snot and drool and bits of dirty leaves clinging to the damp places until she gives up and lays down, curling on her side and letting the hysterics claim her.

She cries for Erica. She cries for herself, she cries for her friends...for everyone her own death touches and destroys. She gives in to the fear and the rage and the pain of isolation (because she's by herself and it's safe to let go but she needs someone arms to hold her together a voice to bring her back God she needs to not be alone) until she finally cries herself sick, rising from her huddled place on the ground and darting behind her tree to be physically ill.

After she wipes her mouth once her stomach's empty, she feels weirdly better. Empty and numb, but more in control.

She uses the rest of her time alone to gather herself up again. She can easily be found packing away her things and removing her arrows from the nearby tree, a process she lingers over in a meditative fashion. She's since used a towel in her gym bag to wipe her face and neck, but her eyes are still puffy and nose red from crying, and she's a little bit pale from having been sick.

Beyond the CES, she can be found heading back to her cabin on Level 2.]

Comments

[BFF Filter]

[lydiascreams]

[Lydia is not ready to be seen. She's got her hair up in a ponytail and her face is flushed. She's at the gym, working on moves that Bucky has been teaching them and she doesn't want everyone to know she's working as hard as she is. She's physically and mentally exhausted. She's still seeing Jerry everywhere, including her dreams. Nightmares. Sleeping with Stiles has been helping some, but when he's still around every time she steps out of one of their cabins, there's only so much it can help. For Lydia Martin standards? She kinda looks like crap.

She does consider ignoring Allison's message for a moment.

But-- obviously she can't. Not when her best friend needs her. Not because of some stupid sense of pride and ego.

Still, she does answer in a private filter between the two of them. And she's already grabbing a towel so she can wipe her face, and head to Allison's cabin.]

Sweetie. You need to take a deep breath first.

[private]

[routemistress]

[She's not talked to Allison much, but she's on Iris' radar more than usual lately: Tig, Barbara, Mindy. So she opens a private channel, because no one asks questions like that without having a personal angle, and it's usually a painful one.]

A lot of old friends. I was 'oping for my son. But 'e never was very good at talking on these things. This about our Tigger's daughter or your family, Allison love?

spam

[godsays]

[ The sound of crying draws him in. He doesn't know who it is, not until he sees her, but this isn't something he can leave alone. He remembers when he felt the most alone in the barge, powerless and broken. He came here wanting to change, but, even so, it had hurt.

He's expecting an inmate.

He sees a warden.

His history with her tells him that maybe he shouldn't intervene, but he ignores it. His hand goes to a little vial of metals in his pocket, and he swallows it down. It includes brass and zinc. He burns brass, feeling the familiar throb of power in his stomach, and gently begins Soothing - pain, anger, grief. It's a light touch, the same kind of effect that would come from a loved one wiping the tears away, a cool hand on a fevered forehead, but not quite so effective. He doesn't want her to think he's changing what she feels.

It won't last when he's out of reach anyhow.

He steps into her view before he comes close. Moves to his knees, and pulls a handkerchief out of his pocket, soft and worn and embroidered with a rabbit. (Marsh's fine-stitched, exquisite work.) He holds it out to her, even though he knows it won't make much difference. ]

Private

[freezerburns]

[Isaac's got a habit of trying to pretend things don't touch him. Allison's death was an exception to that rule, something so huge and overwhelming that he couldn't shut it out, couldn't trick himself into dealing with it like he'd dealt with so much death in his life. But Erica and Boyd, those he'd shut out. He'd gotten angry but not sad. He'd grieved only after the action was over, after the alphas were destroyed - and by then the grief had been somehow distant, anyway.

It's not distant now.

But he's still trying to pretend like it's not rising up in his chest and closing his throat when he thinks about Erica. He's still pretending he doesn't feel cold at the weird shadowy memories of her body in the abandoned bank. He wants to tell Allison it's okay. He wants to but he can't be comforting here. There's not enough comfort in him to keep himself calm and reassure Allison too. But he can't just not say anything.]

I found her when she arrived. [His voice is almost casual. He's not really looking at the camera, eyes focused somewhere off to the side.] She talked to me on the glitch day, too, but I didn't think she'd come here. She knew she was dead then, so...

[There's a pause and the next words are a little lower. There's more teeth in them.]

I had to tell her about Boyd twice. And I... I don't know what to do either. I was going to ask Scott.

[pack filter because reasons]

[seizurings]

[She just stares for a long time. She'd seen the message come through, had planned to ignore it, continue her silent grief for her dead friend - her dead packmate. Trying to hold onto the moments of happiness, few and far between, his smile. The way it made things just a little easier to bear, how it could fill a room and chase away the loneliness she felt. Little things that had brought them together as friends, made them do everything they could to help each other in that vault. She'd gotten to see a side of him few ever did. There's so much they didn't know about him - about her. Things they'd never bothered to get to know before the bite - things they'd never had a chance to know after it.

Instead the message continues, and those words come out of her lips. She's a part of her pack. It stings like a slap to the face. She remembers her family's basement, the way she'd pleaded with Allison to stop in the woods. She remembers breaking off the arrow that she'd shot into her leg, the arrows she'd shot into Boyd... The things her grandfather... She didn't understand how Allison could think she was a part of her pack after all of that.

There's so much she's unsure of, her place in her own pack, if she's going to make it through life here, earn her deal. She doesn't need this added to it - she's not her family. Her family is back home, people she'll never get to see again. People that think she's dead. In the four months together in the vault, Boyd had become family. The only ones on this stupid ship that might fit that description are Stiles and Isaac, although with everything who knows? There's so much she doesn't know of the future, finding it easier to just cut herself off from them, return to her solitary existence. A part of her wants to leave it, ignore it and go back to trying to pick up the pieces of her life, whatever was left. The other part of her has a burning need to know and that part eats at her until she finally picks up the comm.]

Why the hell would you even think me a part of your pack?

[She practically spits the word back at her, almost dripping with disgust. She's suspicious, a hunter calling people her pack. It's weird and it doesn't sit well.]

Spam

[walkthedarkpath]

[ Vergil Didn't respond, he saw no point but seeing the area behind her he merely stood up from his work in the piles of books and walked to the CES, he couldn;t get in, he knew that much so he didn't try. He merely waited outside of the door, leaning against the wall beside it with his arms crossed over his chest.

He was not sure what drove him to go, maybe it was seeing someone who had been kind when really she didn't have to be to him, clearly upset, or just some part of his humanity he forgot to smoother in the middle of a night long past. Either way, he waited silently for her to finish.]

[Private]

[termofendearment]

Already did boot camp once, pretty sure I'm set.

[Nope he is not talking about things unless she brings it up sorry.]

[Private]

[semifreakingnormal]

Don't let yourself drown.

[He doesn't know how to put it - but she sounds adrift, like she's floating away and soon she'll be pulled under. That's how guilt works, it eats and eats and eats, and somehow you have to go on while it's attached to your side.

He gets that.]

Want company?

[ voice ; private ]

[walkingmeltdown]

[He's still been going to "boot camp", and there he's still been acting as if it's business mostly as usual. Though by now there may have been a few times where he's pushed himself extra hard in that way that only comes out of misplaced anger. A few moments where he's been sullen and silent rather than disparaging snark.

It would take someone who knew his habits at least a bit, and for them to have been actually watching him, to notice though. He functions. He's always been able to conceal his upsets well, so long as he's given a task to focus on.

In private though he feels...displaced. Like he's on the verge of breaking down, and he's afraid that he has no idea what might be waiting to come out on the other side. He's alone in his room, and the isolation is stifling, the silence is so deafening.

It's enough that just about anything seems like it might hold potential as a distraction. Even having a chat about an unpleasant subject with a young woman who he has little in common with and barely knows.]

I only spoke to one person that I knew on that day. And it was an enemy of mine from home.

[private]

[hearrrtofgold]

Pack, huh? [He sounds pleased although he's concerned about Allison standing there in the woods with the dignity and pride of a queen. Still he half-smiles, expecting that what he's about to say is the best thing for her to hear right now.] I never had much of one except for Nathan and Audrey. Glad I'm in yours.

So, Everdeen, want some company?

[private]

[robinwishes]

You want me to what? Boot camp and... what?

[ Make.... over? What is this madness? ]

Spam

[voluntaryapnea]

[He gets all of her messages, and he isn't sure how to respond to any of them. It's a boatload of different issues that he's not ready to face himself -- like the fact that his dad is back home, hurt, and in the hospital from a gunshot wound. Like the fact that Erica's here, but he's only seen her once so far because he doesn't want to crowd her.

He doesn't know what to tell Allison about how to deal with Erica, but he feels like if there's anyone from their group from Beacon Hills who might have a shot at mediating between the two girls, it's him. Erica isn't really a fan of Scott's or Lydia's, and Isaac is too close to both girls. Stiles is just...on the edge of things. He chews his thumbnail and rises to his feet, tucking his communicator into his jeans pocket and heading out the door, locking it behind him. He doesn't have to ask where she is. The trees signal that she's in the CES.

He's there within a few minutes, and he finds her yanking arrows out of one of the trees there, eyes red-rimmed. He draws in a breath and stuffs his hands in his pockets, approaching cautiously.]

Hey.

[pack filter] yikes this is late

[notsoneedy]

Oh my god, you don't have to tell me twice. I've already been trying to figure out how to get in on this ever since I heard about it from Steve.