antarcticadown

[antarcticadown]

I think just about everyone here follows me on una's blog, but just a quick note to say I'm moving cam back to a new multi: @eclipscd.

[antarcticadown]

❛ who've you been hanging out with who's trigger happy when they're jumpy? ❜ cam's tone is half incredulous, but there's a note of earnestness beneath the lighthearted, if grumpy, indignation. it could be none of his team, and so to a level it is none of his concern, but even were he not responsible for the sgc's foremost team, he'd assume a sense of responsibility for the rest.

startled or not, cam's not going to draw a gun on a cat. unless it proves as malicious as a certain orange tabby that had spent six months in casey's shared house during his years in veterinary school, much to the chagrin of his roommates. then, cam makes no promises. he had been only too relieved the day he visited his brother while on leave and discovered that little monster gone.

cam switches gears, noting the way she stretched as if preparing herself. ❛ but, got it, nothing but bravado and overconfidence. I can do that. ready? ❜

staring him down with her best matronly look — half-judgement, half-honest puzzlement — clara briefly wonders if he is hearing half of the things he is saying. which is saying something coming from her! but she can at least say she avoids pointless conversations about black cats popping out from behind a rock, she has that going for her. well, most of the time.

❛⠀ if you were startled by a black cat, i'd take that gun away from you. there will be no jinxes, and no damseling on this mission,⠀ ❜ she says, stretching back up to her full height, shoulders crackling loudly in the quiet forest as she stretches her arms in front of her. ❛⠀ scaredy cats are so not the vibe.⠀ ❜

[antarcticadown]

her guess would be eerily right for someone who has never met the man in question, but casey's predictable enough: good humor and kind heart and a way of seeing the world as inherently good. of course he'd get a kick out of this. ❛ we will never mention this to my brother, ❜ cam corrects her with a faux sternness and a shake of the head. then, after a moment's pause, he points out, ❛ especially if I'm pretending I never saw this. ❜

cam's still not even sure what 'this' is, but he follows her without demanding an explanation, letting the last statement stand as his agreement that his lips are sealed.

christine briefly thinks about asking whether it’s an older or younger brother he’s referring to, as — despite his tone — she could still twist this around into a compliment if he is talking about an older brother. they always give good advice ( her own withstanding ). but the gamble is too great if it’s a younger brother; he might stubbornly decide it is a stupid idea and return to his earlier 'no'. a win is a win, she's satisfied.

for now.

❛⠀ we'll take a picture for your brother, he'll get a kick out of this.⠀ ❜⠀ with a crook of her finger, she motions for him to follow her. ❛⠀ you never saw this. promise?⠀ ❜⠀

[antarcticadown]

remember that time cam was sleep deprivation delirious and named an alien lizard joe bob? like, that was a canonical thing that happened.

[antarcticadown]

❛ it hardly matters? ❜ cam repeats, making no effort to mask his incredulity. despite the fact that her assertion absolutely defies every ounce of common sense he possesses — to say nothing of lessons learned by experience — he answers her question in earnest. ❛ no, they didn't. ❜

it's only after he's already spoken that cam stops to double check that he's correct. reassured, he restates the denial but then cannot resist demanding, ❛ what do you mean it doesn't matter why they're trying to kill us? how can that not matter? ❜ and, yes, moving forward and not getting killed are probably more important things at the present moment than disputing this, but cam is perfectly capable of multitasking.

La'an swallows her bitterness. Judgement is a natural response; no matter her efforts, La'an is human and as such, her emotions are natural, even if she's mastered them well enough to dismiss the annoyance that bubbles up at how clueless her companion is.

"It hardly matters," she grounds out, eyes scanning across the terrain. They'll need a plan and more pressing, a distraction. The rendezvous point is three-miles due west; if they have any hope contacting the enterprise, it'll be there.

La'an turns towards him quickly, frowning. "Did they tag you with anything?"

[antarcticadown]

aloud, cam will make no promises. he might try all he desires and still find himself ruining all her hard work, and inevitably he'll find some justification for forgetting to be careful. silence is kinder than a promise he can't keep. to himself, however, he does make a promise to consider the ramifications of his actions — at least a little more than usual.

rude would be arguing that in a way she had signed up for nonsense like being bled on. cam remarks instead, ❛ frankly, I've spent too much time in medical care, for far worse than this. I've lost track of what's considered rude. ❜ for that matter, it probably wasn't only rudeness he no longer perceived clearly. he weighed injury into two categories: would nearly kill him and leave him recovering for two years, and would prove an inconvenience he'd recover from in a matter of days.

the later category no longer even registered as worth his concern.

❛ so, I'm sorry? ❜ he finishes, though it's far too cavalier an apology to seem earnest.

❛⠀⠀you are bleeding on me, ⠀ ❜ ⠀ christine retorts, eyebrows pinched. there were no doors to open here in the jungle, much less bags to carry: they had what they brought with them, and what they could salvage from the packs. a little more than what she took when she went backpacking in her third year of college, but not even half of what she dragged into enterprise less than a decade later. she doesn't need someone to carry her bags down here — she needs him to make it. ⠀ ❛⠀⠀call me a city savage, but i don't think that's polite. ⠀ ❜

smoothing her fingers over the bandage with far more gentleness than she thinks @antarcticadown deserves, she tuts approvingly.

❛⠀ okay, red shirt. try not to mess this up, will ya? ⠀ ❜

[antarcticadown]

there are certain songs that I will forever associate with certain characters or certain ships... and normally it's my own damn fault, but once in a blue moon a show really does a number on me...

this post brought to you by my coffee shop, where I'm sitting to write, playing the night we met and absolutely slaughtering me...

[antarcticadown]

gotta love my timesheet breaking mid-week two days before our pay period ends and our accounting manager not knowing what's going on with it...

[antarcticadown]

with an exasperated groan and a protest that he wasn't superstitious muttered under his breath, cam tilts his head back against the wall supporting him. ❛ y'know, in my defense — if I were startled by a black cat — ❜ and that is, distinctly, a hypothetical if, as his tone clearly emphasizes, ❛ I think it would be perfectly reasonable. we haven't seen a single living thing larger than a bug this side of the gate. ❜

— and don't get him started on those bugs. at least they seem to have left them behind outside.

she gives him too much credit for work completed. this has been all her, save for convincing landry to allow this particular expedition. this is his work — what they're in the middle of now. on the ground and in the moment. it's work that is distinctly far from done, leaving an itch beneath his skin, and though he's supposed to be resting, he finds himself pushing off the wall and pacing — just a bit, just enough to keep muscles from seizing and his impatience from calling an early end to their break.

it is not bad advice. in fact, it sounds like something she might say to younger recruits these days. they walk into the mountain with stars in their eyes and so much burning hope that it takes her a while to work up the courage to dampen their enthusiasm. they should keep it as long as they can; once it's gone, it is almost impossible to get it back.

almost impossible. this day, this mission, the sleepless nights she put into to painstakingly recovering the lost tale, remind her of the rush of excitement she felt the first time she passed through the gate, idealism and unrealistic expectations not yet dashed. so, he can keep his practical country advice, that or any other rocks reality sends her way won't dampen her mood. two thousand and five minutes in the making, and they are going to finish it today.

❛⠀ shut up. shoosh. you are bummin' me out... sir,⠀ ❜⠀ she says, not that respectfully.⠀ ❛ did you do the work? yes, you did. and so did i. that matters more than any jinx, so don't spook if a black cat crosses your path in the next five minutes, okay? ⠀ ❜⠀

[antarcticadown]

to everyone waiting on replies, I am so sincerely sorry... I am trying to ease myself back into writing, but in the meantime I am slow ( and also very likely to prioritize certain interactions if my brain's playing nicer for them )

[antarcticadown]

❛ you sound like my brother. ❜ though cam thinks casey would be likely to utter the confident assertion with a little more wryness. ❛ but I can think of a dozen situations that definitely wouldn't be improved by a dog. actually, I can think of a dozen situations that haven't been helped by a dog. ❜ and a few where the dog was, in fact, definitely the problem and not the solution. much as cam might love his younger brother, casey's high promises that they would be no trouble at all rarely had proven true.

and, so, the correct answer to christine's question is distinctly 'no dog.' the safe answer, the less-likely-to-make-the-situation-worse-before-it-gets-better answer. ❛ but I'm way too curious to say no. ❜

❛⠀⠀obviously, well... ⠀ ❜ ⠀ christine starts, with every intention of launching into something resembling a well thought out plan. something worthy of una, or, the very least, la'an, but her mind goes blank, not one word or clever quip rising to the occasion. ❛⠀⠀obviously, every situation can be improved by a dog. ⠀ ❜

it might not solve their immediate problem, but it would certainly improve morale. a white ball of fluff would make them both a lot more chill.

❛⠀⠀so... hmm, dog or no dog? what are we thinking? ⠀ ❜

[antarcticadown]

imagine if my brain didn't think I needed back-to-back migraines...

[antarcticadown]

I personally think it should be illegal for temperatures to break 100 in october. I'm staring at you, california...

[antarcticadown]

cam finally realizes where superstition came into all this, and, rather than diving into the fact his grandma probably thought friday the 13th ought to be spent in church, which is not nearly as fun an answer as clara was no doubt hoping, instead he shakes his head. ❛ I wasn't saying we were gonna jinx it — although, now that you mention it, yes, we probably are, not that that's ever stopped me before — ❜ much to the dismay of a team jaded by more years of travel through the gate than he's likely to ever see. if he's entirely fair, cam can't blame them: his enthusiasm's led them astray once or twice.

he wrangles himself back on track, though it takes him a moment to remember just what the track was. ❛ what I was saying is that we shouldn't get our hopes up. disappointment, and all that. ❜ again, not something cameron has ever let stop him, but, hey, he usually practices what he preaches. surely he can be forgiven a time or two of trying to spare others from his own failings even if he cannot spare himself. ❛ not that I doubt us, mind, but it's the principle of the thing. ❜

❛⠀ so lay off the hair products tomorrow. there, i've given you your five minutes back, ⠀ ❜⠀⠀ she quips, toeing off her boots without unlacing them or bothering to sit down. this old routine — which she had town to a t, involved a lot of hopping about and flailing, but, luckily, not a lot of falling, as there was always a surface, or cam's arm, within reach for her to steady herself.

finally sitting down on the floor, clara shakes the boots, smoothing down the soles, in search of any rocks that might have sneaked in, stretching out her legs with a blissful sigh. an adventure of a lifetime. she had to tell herself, as she plucked a sharp little jagged rock that burrowed itself near her toe. it would all be worth it.

❛⠀ so mirrors are fake, and jinxes are real? what about friday the 13th? what does grandma say about that?⠀ ❜

[antarcticadown]

the excellent thing about cam's canon verse tag not generating when I type the word "verse" or "canon" is that I have to type the word "love" and therefore get to see this beautiful tag on a regular basis:

[antarcticadown]

hey katya, you might ask, what does it take for a character to instantaneously become your new favorite?

apparently, the answer to this question is pull a dumb stunt like jumping onto a helo with three maybe-terrorists who already tried to kill you, and then playing the original star trek theme song on repeat on your ipod over a radio frequency to alert your team to where you are...

[antarcticadown]

far as cam's concerned, she can leave his accent — and his grandma's proverbs — out of it. ❛ it's not superstition. ❜ then again, considering some of the people cam grew up with, he can't really fault her for it. he grimaces. ❛ I mean, sure, there's plenty of superstition where I come from, too, but if breaking a mirror was seven years bad luck, I don't think I'd be standing here. ❜ there was one or two too many broken rear-view mirrors in his past for landing in the cockpit of a 302, much less here, on a whole other damned planet.

besides, cam makes his own luck.

he's equal parts relieved and horrified by her concession to five minutes. just long enough for his back to stiffen. he's less than surreptitious in his effort to stretch the offending muscles as he avoids contemplating the math her statement presented him with. there was no sam to run the calculations on just how infinitesimal five minutes was on a scale of two thousand years. or, even, how not-so-infinitesimal... ❛ wrong calculation. five minutes on the scale of a lifetime. that's the one that matters. ❜ not even a lifetime, a lifetime minus thirty-five odd years. for him at least.

❛⠀ should've known that accent came with superstitions,⠀ ❜⠀ she says, with a soft huff of a laugh. it was nothing she hadn't heard before; americans were all like that, brimming with superstitions and strange little rituals ( no, she's not still smarting about the time she had to go through the gate twice while throwing salt over her shoulder because her commander did not like her confidence. that was ages ago, and she is too busy for grudges... ). ❛⠀ but you won't. 'cause you want to bask in the excitement as well. you can admit it, i won't tell anyone, it'll be our little secret.⠀ ❜

but now that he mentioned it... she was kind of tired.

the word rest seems to lift the veil of excitement from her eyes for just long enough for her to realize her thigh is cramping and there is something inside her jacket sleeve.

❛⠀ five minutes. two thousand years and five minutes. nothing on the grand scheme of things, eh?⠀ ❜