#( ㅤ halston ㅤ ) interaction

[aeternals]

@factiousfcrged gets an ish-plotted starter

it was meant to be a night where she went back out on the town, so to speak. a night where all the nightmares of eros were put behind her and she talked herself into processing everything for the sake of getting back into her music. the nightmares made writing difficult because anything she tried to put on her terminal came out much, much darker than anything she'd ever sung before. every beat was haunting as opposed to upbeat. the overall tone was fear instead of hope. there were more songs in her scrap folder from the last few weeks than there had been before her first song hit the waves.

the first drink didn't do much of anything. on the second drink, she felt a little less anxious about being around so many people. enough so that she'd gone out to the dance floor to join in on all the moving bodies. her third drink was a bottle of water, which was what she was holding when she went back out to dance. a bottle nursed closely to her chest so she could remember to write down everything around her in the hopes of getting back to where her music belonged.

she moved away from the floor earlier than intended, though. a few people kept hitting on her. no was a complete sentence, she reminded herself. on any other night halston would've been flattered; flirt back, even. with her mind where it was? the thought of a stranger terrified her.

halston hadn't been paying attention. she'd been trying to maneuver to the restroom when a large hand shoved her against one of the dark walls. her mind went black and her lungs go tight. " please, " the singer gasps against the terror. whatever is said in response isn't audible over the thumping music. " please, i'm just trying to go home.... "

[aeternals]

someone tells her to put on her mag boots. someone else suggests halston go back to sleep. with all the medications pumping through his system there was only a guess as to how long he was going to be out. the singer does neither of these things, though. it's only after the grip on his fingers loosen that she goes back out into the galley to finish cleaning up the browning liquid on the floor. the rest of the crew, thankfully, leaves her alone. she's not sure why but she's grateful for the time for her own thoughts. she's also pleasantly surprised to find someone else has suctioned the floating droplets of blood from the air.

stained fabric is tossed into the laundry. after a quick look back in on the medical bay and seeing amos still knocked out, halston moves her self into the kitchenette. sleep pulls at the outskirts of her senses. the exhaustion singing a lullaby to bring her back into the deep. it has her racing thoughts to contend with, though. the singer makes herself a cup of coffee then sets to work with baking a space version of chocolate chip cookies.

they're not as good as the ones she can make with dairy around but that's not the easiest thing to take on long travels like this ones. what she's able to use for substitutes is slightly more dense and not quite as sweet but comfort all the same. a note is left in the middle of the table to let everyone know there were some in the cabinet ( so they didn't float away ).

amos is still sleeping by the time she drags an extra blanket into the med bay. no one else is to be found, so a quick glance is spared to the autodoc. as far as she understands, everything looks okay. nothing's beeping or screaming.

there's nothing she can pull close to amos's chair so, she can't stay as close as she'd like. so, after gently setting the blanket over amos's body, halston curls in the last medical chair. her body's angled towards amos to glance whenever she needs.

her hand terminal comes out of her pocket and she pulls up the last song she'd been working on. whether she'd be awake by the time amos woke up was anyone's guess.

Why? That was a good question. It was a question he didn't have an answer for. Why was he sorry. What was he sorry for. For letting her get dragged into all this mess? For not convincing Holden to leave her on Tycho after the first time she'd snuck on board, convinced she had to go find her dad on Ganymede? For giving her the notion that he could ever give her anything more than this? Nights, filled with blood and pain and tears, and days filled with death slugs, and protomolecule monsters and danger, and hunger, and filth, and misery? She deserved better than anything this ship, this crew, or he could give her, so why? Why was he sorry?

Too many reasons to count.

I love you, Timmy. But I'm not a righteous person.

Lydia had given him a second chance at life. She'd taught him how to find the light, the north star to guide him from the ache, from the hollow, the darkness in his chest. He'd made a decision. He'd made a choice. To keep his promise, to Wei, to Murtry. For Wei. For the Belters. For Lucia. He'd never been good at making choices. I love you. Blood streaked her skin where he'd touched her. The thing that burrowed into his chest ached. Nothing's going to change that. Run. Run away, far away.

Don't go.

The ache in his chest feels worse than all of the other pains, combined. One hand settles on hers, his other arm caught, draped around Alex's shoulder as he tried to pull himself up to his feet. It's an awkward, stilted dance, as they help him negotiated, limp his way into the infirmary. A curtain has been pulled around the med station where, he can only assume, Murtry is recuperating. Amos doesn't bother to pay it any attention. It takes only a few minutes for Naomi and the others to get him situated, to get an arm into the autodoc sleeve, to get the hoses and needles and pumps in place. They've all been through this before. His eyes don't leave her, until the soft hiss of the medications injected into him pull his consciousness away, and even then, his fingers, bloody and broken, remain latched onto hers with what little strength he has left as his world fades to black.

[aeternals]

HALSTON PETERS.

halston brigette peters. aspiring singer. witch. plays guitar. danielle campbell. more to come as i figure it out.

[aeternals]

too many souls lost... halston doesn't have the mind to think if it's rude or not but the words hit something deep inside. echoes of her father's laugh force a sob down her throat and, at the same time, a squeeze on the tender man's hand. with a nod, she takes the water just as an excuse to pull her hand back and gloss over the budding embarrassment.

" taki taki, " halston holds up the bottle before taking a small sip. for a few seconds she can't help but stare down at the floor as ghosts play before her eyes. playing hide and seek on ganymede with her father. classes with friends. watching the night sky from one of the domes. " na, " she shakes her head against someone to call. " namang. napelésh. " the later makes her chuckle and then wipe away at a fresh set of tears.

" i'll just go wherever you drop off everyone else and make my way back to tycho from there. "

There's a flicker of a glance towards the terminal that she digs out, but his attention remains focused almost entirely on her, on her features, wan and pale and delicate, as if the two of them were the only ones in the cargo hold, or perhaps the universe. Earnest empathy creased faint lines across his forehead, tipped down the corners of his mouth, a hand pressed to his chest in the sign of sorrow, and apology. "Too many souls lost, wamotim, sesata," he let his hand slip forward to catch her own and squeeze, gently, before urging one of the bottled of water into it.

"At least, you must take de awkwa, na?" He holds up the two ration bars, then, reaching to tuck them into the edge of her bag. "Im ta nating," he assured her. "Is there any ting milowda can do for you, someone to call? Tu keng where you go, from here?"

[aeternals]

in many ways the pilot of the rocinante reminded her of her father. those little ways of trying to take care of other people. oh, and the way he talked to the ship. halston's father liked to talk to his equipment, too. in fact, there'd been times she caught him talking to certain parts of the little apartment they lived in on ganymede. very rarely, it was also the plants that lined the walls.

the cooking definitely did not remind her of her father. for one, the man really couldn't cook. halston had to learn just to get away from pastes and bars.

" i would love that. thank you, " she scrunched her nose. thinking about brunch was better than going down the mental rabbit hole of death and destruction. although, being prepared for the possibilities would keep holden safer in the end, she'd like to think.

with the captain moving closer, halston couldn't help but do the same. an arm slides easily around his waist and fingers curl into the excess fabric of his coveralls. in a different part of the ship she'd be using that hold to remove the layers between them as opposed to hold on to them.

" i'm guessing if you've been asked to check it out it's because people expect a certain level of shit storm to happen but, uh, kill us? "

@aeternals / halston continued from [x]

He nuzzled in again to steal another lingering kiss before pulling back, offering out the second bulb of coffee as he replied. "Pretty decent," Holden admitted, letting a hand slide up to tease through the still tousled strands of her bed head with a soft, low hum. Falling asleep with her in his arms, and waking up with her next to him certainly didn't hurt. And these times? The in between times, when the mandates had already been issued, but before the trouble could begin, were some of the better times he'd spent on the ship, with his crew, his little found family.

"Waking up with no new messages from Avasarala chewing my ass out, fresh coffee made, nobody trying to kill us yet, and no alarms blaring - I don't want to jinx it, but I can't think of a single thing to complain about." He let himself slide closer, an arm curling around her waist, happy to enjoy the moment for what it offered. "Alex said something about a ... Kamal brunch supreme in a few, wanted me to extend the invitation to you, too, if you want to join."

[aeternals]

eros had been where her music career started to take off. it was where she took remixes of songs to the clubs and the stations to cast out into the system. a few popular reactions later and her name was starting to pick up steam in ways she'd only dreamed about on ganymede. a small stint on luna hadn't been completely useless, though. that had gotten her the few contacts she needed to be able to do those things on eros.

and now all of that was falling apart around her.

people - things that used to be people - had crystalline somethings protruding from their bodies. some of them were oozing. others were screaming or not moving on the ground. all around them the sounds of terror were piercing right through all sense of self preservation, screaming that she needed to do something. but, what could she do? halston wasn't a fighter by any stretch of the imagination unless you counted the way she swore at her hand terminal sometimes. a hand terminal which was lost on the ground somewhere after she'd bumped into people trying to run.

a smile brightens her face. relief, really. she hadn't wanted him to go running headfirst into danger. staying put wasn't an option considering the oncoming wall of...whatever those were. but the dock could be a defensible position? made sense in her head, anyway. " maybe everyone's already there and waiting. that has to be the point everyone returns to, right? so, maybe staying at the dock wouldn't be such a bad idea. "

fingers tap onto the clear material to find the map she always used when she was first getting to know the station. a shot sounded somewhere, echoing through the hall. halston couldn't help the scream or the way arms lifted up and over her head. as soon as she moved, though, her hands were back to finding their path. " um, " the singer tried to orient herself against the image. " this way. five crossings down there's a left. "

We can keep running. He could hear the fear in her words, and it made every muscle in his body ache with the desire -- the need -- to break every one of the things that weren't quite people into splintered pieces with his bare hands. She wasn't wrong. They could run. But it wasn't what he wanted to do. He wasn't sure what he wanted to do. What he should do. Part of him felt like he should keep cutting a swath through the proto zombies until, like she'd said, he was with the Cap and Naomi, even the belter with his stupid ass hat that they'd picked up along the way. He still wasn't a hundred percent sure why.

Most of him wanted to hoist her up and fling her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and haul ass straight back to the Roci. She shouldn't be out here. She wasn't equipped to fight. She barely even knew how to hold a gun. It wasn't her fault, so much as just the way things went, when you weren't born with nothing but your fists and your flesh to crawl your way out of the dust and muck with. He knew he could do it. She wouldn't even slow him down. But whether that was what he should do? What he should or shouldn't do wasn't something he really trusted himself with. That was what he had Naomi and ... sometimes, now, the Cap, for.

The muscles of his jaw twitched with irritation at his own indecision, and his fingers gripped white knuckle against the weapon he held, braced to fire at a moment's notice. Maybe he should send her on her own, to cut a path through the inner workings of the station that weren't yet overrun, to the Roci, to wait. Maybe that would be the better option. He could stay and fight. She could be safe. A knife twisted, burned sour, in his stomach. He pulled his hand terminal free from his jacket pocket, shoving it into her hold. "Find us a path to the Roci, whatever's not locked down, whatever's fastest. I'll get you back -- and then I'll go find the others."

[aeternals]

times like this made her wish she'd followed in her father's foot steps. unfortunately, this, all this, made her queasy. blood was not something she preferred to deal with. although cleaning up after amos did nothing but make her heart heavy. one blessing, she supposes. cleaning up didn't do anything for his pain, though. pain she is more and more certain is the result from internal injuries, even before he'd spat blood on the floor.

new tears flow but these are purely frustration. down on the surface she'd felt more than useless. here and now she'd felt more of the same. originally, she'd begged holden to let her come along so she could try writing about the new world, the gates, transformation, and new chances. a lot of people started to know her for her roci inspirations and, honestly, halston was okay with that. the crew was beautiful and brave. in her opinion, there were no better muses.

" i'm glad, " halston leans down to kiss the tip of amos's index finger because it was the only place she could think of that might not hurt. another lands on his thumb. once she raises her head back up, though, she can't help but frown. sleep has nothing to do with anything and, honestly, halston isn't sure what to say to that. she'd much rather be awake and at his side than asleep and not knowing he was hurting.

" why? " the singer leans into the touch at her jaw. " i love you. nothing's going to change that. " not really part of the question but her heart told her it was an important thing to say in the moment. perhaps the way he apologized even though he knew in his heart beating murtry into the ground was the right thing to do. according to amos logic, that is. since they'd landed? that worked for her logic, too.

before she can say anything else alex comes back with nothing in his hands but the quiet offer to lead amos to the medical bay. hopefully, that meant murtry was asleep and in no condition to piss anyone else off. halston quickly leans down to sop up the drying puddle of blood in between his feet just so he doesn't slip on it when he stands. there's streaks when she pulls the tower away but it's something they can deal with later. her empty hand reaches out to see if he'd take it. " i know i'm a lot shorter but you can lean on me if you need to. "

There's a rattle, when he breathes in this time, and he can feel it caught in his lungs. There's a tinge of grey that washes over his features as he twists half away, as the racking cough squeezes muscles and sends white hot nettles of pain through his side, and chest, before the splash of blood that he'd breathed in escapes onto the floor. The world shudders, or maybe that's just him, and his head tilts back a little as he exhales slowly, easier, even if it still burns. Some of the tension bleeds away, then, too, and he can feel the pain pulse and tug in familiar, almost comforting ways as the adrenaline begins to ebb, as shock gives way to exhaustion.

He breathes in again, slower, as some hint of color creeps its way back in, and he leans, just a fraction, into the touch against his cheek. He needed a shower. And whiskey. And sleep. But that would all come, later. His gaze turns, as his thoughts process her question, and there's a hardness in them, a ferocity, tame by comparison to the beast that had been unleashed minutes earlier, staring for a moment as if he could see through the walls to where Murtry was being treated. People like you and me, we deserve a say in how it ends. The ache in the hollow of his chest was less, this time. An echo. A ghost. She'd made her choice. That's all I ever wanted.

Amos glanced down, to the blood that was spattered across his arms, his hands. He knew it wasn't all his. "Yeah." It's quiet. "He did." Tired. He was tired. How much of that was post combat crash, and how much of that was exhaustion, and how much of that was blood loss? "You should be sleeping." She was tired. Beyond tired. She hadn't slept well since they'd departed Ilus. She was disheveled, only half dressed, bare feet. A flicker of a frown, a disgruntled hint of anger at himself. His hand rose, a thumb tracing along the edge of her damp jawline. Do you still think I'm a good man? Bitterness stung the words as he swallowed them down. "I'm sorry."

[aeternals]

in all their time together, murtry was the first one she'd notice really really get under amos's skin. it was tangible, the way they went at each other. even holden lost his cool several times. having lived on ganymede for a portion of her life, she understood why the belters had a hard time leaving the lithium. she understood why they wanted to risk everything and that was simply because they had nothing to go back to. without what they'd mined or put down in the colony, there was nothing left. any saving they'd had was for this. so, to have a group of inners come right in had to be terrifying. the savage earthers coming to put their hands where they didn't belong for the umpteenth time and not caring who they stepped on to reach the profit on the other side.

god damnit, a frustrated someone yells from somewhere else on the ship. halston hardly doubts it's the first time he's screamed it since these two men went to blows but it was the first one she'd heard. she jumps at the piercing noise through the silence, squeezing accidentally on amos's hand.

the first mention that he's good is barely audible. also doubtful, but that's not her place to say. after wiping off some of the blood the cuts on his knuckles are more apparent. so is the growing bruise behind parts of the wound. even if she hadn't cleaned anything off it was clear in the way he was moving that something was wrong. everything looked like a test. a grimace spoke volumes above the white noise of the ship.

" hey, alex, " the singer reaches out for the pilot's leg when he walks by. " can we get him something for pain? "

a nod from the martian who thought he was a cowboy along with the caveat that they'd be able to get amos into the med bay as soon as murtry was taken care of. everyone was hesitant to let them both in the room at the same time, especially awake. understandable, from halston's end but she also thought treating murtry was a giant waste of resources. that part remained inside her head.

" did it help? " she asked after turning back to amos. there was no judgement in her voice. only the question. while waiting for an answer, the towel is removed from his hand to reach up and wipe at a few blood spots on his cheek. " did he pay for what he did? "

He isn't sure if time sped up or if time slowed down, but by the time he recognizes that time has passed at all, the gloss of red between his boots has muddied, and it takes him much longer than it should have to register that something has been dropped into the puddle to soak up at least some of it. Had he done that? He didn't remember doing that. There's a grunt, and fingers twitch, flex against the sudden recognition of pain, but he doesn't pull away from it. It takes another long series of moments for him to notice the towel that is pressing and dragging against his hand with its still red from regrowth fingers. Red from blood, seeping from torn knuckles, and he's fairly certain that at least a few of the bones and maybe the knuckles there have been fractured, or outright broken.

Naomi was going to fuss at him for those.

Watching the blood. Feeling it. A grimace, lips thinned, as the thud of his pulse in his head brought with it the feeling of the heartbeat, and the blood flow. There was a stinging, in his eyes, and his other hand rose, to smudge away a streak of blood there, fingertips grazing over the scrapes and cut at the edge of his temple, at his eyebrow. His cheek and jaw throbbed. Pain came in slow and random surges as he breathed. The ringing was still there. A high pitched squeal that reverberated in his thoughts, but with the sound of his heartbeat, other things crept in too. Words.

Again. He blinked, drawing in a cautiously slow breath, trying to gauge how bad the pain in his side was going to trip him up. "'m good." It was more of a rasp, than actual words. The edges of the room swam in his vision, and he forced himself to blink again, drawing in a longer breath that might have been the first so far to have more air than blood since he'd been herded into the galley by ... He didn't know who. "I'm good." His hand reached out, catching over where hers still tried to scrub away the worst of the blood on the hand she held. Hali. "It's good. I'm good now."

[aeternals]

oh, alex looked surprised halston opened her eyes after being shaken awake. it had to have been a testament to how exhausted she was that she didn't hear anyone say anything or the door hiss open. sorry, sweetheart. groggy and confused, halston took several seconds to remember where she was. rocinante. new terra. they'd finally gotten back on the ship to make the trek back home.

" amos? " thoughts finally register on the fact that the other half of the small gel mattress is empty. the ship's pilot left her alone so she could slip her legs into her own tachi uniform. the fabric hung off a little, so she couldn't just put her legs through and walk around. one arm went through the upper body to keep everything up. halston was too tired to bother with the other arm. mag boots were forgotten until she entered the hall and felt the metal under her bare feet. at that point the singer felt it too late to turn around.

when she finally finds him there's blood everywhere. in fact, it looked like amos got into a fight with a bag full of blood, punching it until splatters covers all of his upper body. couldn't have been a bag, though. there'd been tension between he and murtry. on top of that, a promise made to wei about her boss. " oh, amos, " halston does what she can to make sure her arm is in his line of vision before touching one of his knees. after no response to several other words, she pushes back up to her feet to grab a few towels.

the first is dropped to the growing pool between her lover's feet but she doesn't start wiping it right away. that, she decides, will be saved for after his hands stop dripping.

it would also give her something to focus on if he kept refusing to answer. with no way to tell what was going through that beautiful mind, halston felt completely shut out. before she realizes it, that thought has a few tears sliding down her cheek. all that pain and no way for her to share the burden. just like when they were in the dark. just like the nightmares that haunted him in the middle of the night the few times she shared a bed with him.

" are you okay? " halston tries asking again after setting the towel on one of his hands to start rubbing away the blood. the answer was clear but she really did mean in a physical sense. there was so much blood everywhere she couldn't tell if any of it was his or if there was an open wound she couldn't see.

@aeternals gets a s4 finale based starter. (desi or halston)

There's a ringing in his head that won't stop. There's blood on his hands. On his teeth. In his throat. He can feel the low, dull throb of pain. His ribs. His hands. A shoulder, a knee. He watches the blood drip, splash, pool between his feet.

The thing that lives in the hollow in his chest is quiet. The roaring pressure that had been building in the weeks, months, since they first set foot on Ilus has dissipated. He can't decide if the silence is better, or worse.

He can hear the commotion in the Roci's med bay, can hear the familiar timbre of Holden's voice and Naomi's, can hear the intermittent beeps and chirps of the autodoc. Murtry was still breathing, or had been when they'd finally pulled the two of them apart. They were both as tough as they were mean, Amos guessed. Holden would be upset if Murtry didn't make it back to Earth to stand trial. He guessed they'd cross that bridge if they had to.

He knows there's words. Closer to him, where he sits in the galley, watching dispassionately as his blood pools on the floor. He'd have to make sure that got cleaned up before long or it'd get everywhere, gum up the works. He knows that there's words. A voice that he knows. A voice that makes the hollow in his chest ache, but it's just. One more pain on the pile and all he can feel right now is nothing.

[aeternals]

there's no time to be happy that he was there because halston's too worried about him being hurt. part of her recognizes the damage that's being done to the man whose intentions had been not so great but that fact alone has her mind one step removed from his well being. in this instance, it was amos she knew and amos she cared about. later she might think on how hypocritical that was; singing about people and then not caring about one just because he tried to hurt her. she'd cross that bridge when it came, though.

in fact, all thoughts abruptly stop when a rough grip yanks her away from the growing scene. she looks back at the fading bar to see the tall bartender yell after them, what the fuck, amos....

a selfish voice inside makes her wonder if he'd been there by coincidence or if he'd been hoping to run into her just like she'd been hoping to run into him. coordinating it would certainly be easier but, then, that thought made a bunch of butterflies bloom in her chest.

" hey, " she says softly once they'd moved past the entrance and down the large hall. the brighter lights have her squint for a few steps. once she's re-acclimated, though, a few taps are pressed against his forearm. then a few more until amos finally stops walking.

" are you okay? " the singer reaches out, cupping one of his cheeks with no thought or fear given to the scene she'd just witnessed. admittedly, now that the shock of what she'd seen was starting to wear off, halston has time to wonder what exactly had set him off. had he seen what happened? " let me see your hands. "

There's a guttural cry from the man that he has pinned against the wall as Amos' fist connects once, and twice, against the man's ribs with enough force that he can feel them snap, and even still, the hand latched at the nape of the man's neck drags him back and propels him into the wall with enough force that there's a smear of blood left in the wake as the man crumples down.

He's ready to swing again, ready to slam his boot into the man's side, or head, or whichever part of him happens to be easiest to aim for, when the touch to his shoulder and back make him spin, bloody hands ready to strike out again --

Amos -- Her face is pale, eyes wide, and he recoils, hands dropping down to his side, even though the tension radiates in his body and his muscles are screaming, the heat exploding from his chest screaming for an outlet, the roar and compulsion to break something, to break more -- Amos --

He takes a ragged breath in, a stumbled half step taken back, his eyes cutting around the sudden empty space in the bar around them, the feral snarl on his lips seeming to be doing a good job of keeping anyone from trying to come to the man's aid. He swallows down, swallows down the rage, the fire, holds it in his chest and in his hands, and he takes another step back, somehow finding enough control to latch his hand around her wrist without snapping it, tugging at her, pushing her towards the exit without a sound, or a word.

[aeternals]

in those split seconds of fear with the larger man hovering over her, halston has enough mind to think about how stupid it'd been to hope to see amos. how stupid she was to wait around like she actually meant something to him. did she? halston hoped so. sometimes she even thought so. amos gave her those nervous butterflies in the pit of her stomach. every time they touched it was like electricity arching between them but sitting alone in a bar made it easy to brush off. she was probably just imagining things. right?

part of the decision to leave was to keep the disappointment at bay. maybe channel all those emotions into writing something for the belt. too much of her latest inspiration had come from the roci crew, anyway. time to get back to some of those relationship emotions.

several quick looks to the side have halston wondering what she could do to protect herself. fingernails in the eyes, maybe. heels to the arch of the asshole's foot and then a good knee to the peanuts hanging between his legs.

but, then, there's breathing room.

" amos! " equal parts surprise and fear take over. but, not of him. halston could never be afraid of him. she gets afraid of what he mentally does to himself in situations like this. " baby, i'm okay. " a slip of words they can hopefully forget later. fingers slide across his shoulder in the hopes the touch helps ground them together. it seemed hard to get through to him when he went to this place but that wouldn't ever stop her from trying. " he's not worth it. i'm here. it's okay. " small hands gently tug on the fabric covering him, fully accepting there was a chance she'd get caught in the crossfire if it came down to that. desperation tinges her voice. " amos, come back to me. please? "

He hadn't been consciously aware of the fact that he'd been hoping to find her there until he'd felt the twinge of disappointment when he scanned the bar, and the dance floor, and didn't see her. It had made him frown, a little at least. Disappointed in himself, maybe, for having the moment of expectation? He wasn't all that sure. He'd shrugged it off. Mostly. Wasn't like they'd made plans. Wasn't like she owed him her time or attention. It was fine. There were plenty of other people here that he could entertain himself with.

Except, maybe, that wasn't what he'd wanted. He liked the way she looked at him. The way her eyes got a little brighter, her smile a little wider, when she saw him. Nah. He tried to shrug away the thoughts. He wasn't that kinda guy. So he'd gotten himself a shot, and then a second, downed in rapid succession, and a third for good measure. Just enough for a nice, slow burn in the pit of his stomach. He should just get a bottle. Hit the brothel.

Something nagged at him. The nerve that twitched at that point where shoulder blades would meet, if they did. The prickle at the nape of his neck. He shifted, scanning the room. The edges. The shadows. The places where people lingered when they didn't want to be seen. And then he was moving, shoulder forward to barrel through the clumps of people between him, and the man his gaze had narrowed in on. Barely aware of the yelps, or the half shouts of protest from those he pushed between, only just aware enough of his surroundings to pick up no other visible friends of the man that had his hands on her.

The first blow lands without even a warning. A fist, drawn back and launched, pummeling knuckles first into the side of the man's head, with enough force to make a resounding crack. His head? Amos' knuckles? Didn't know. Didn't care. Hands latched onto the man as he stumbled, digging into shoulders and shirt, twisting around to slam him, face first into the first clear spot of wall that he could find.

[aeternals]

halston was tired. exhausted. the frantic search for her father, ensuing grief, and attempts to get off ganymede all had her bone-weary. when the line was forming earlier on the ship that picked them up, she respectfully stepped out so that all the other people ( especially the children ) despite all the voices telling her to get back in line. why were they yelling at someone who didn't want rations? that was odd to her. but, then, she brushed it off as stress all around. no one expected the inners to get into a pissing contest above a scientific station nor for one of the mirrors to come crashing down on one of the domes.

looking up, she saw the most beautiful and the most gentle eyes gazing back at her. he took her breath away. embarrassing enough, her lips moved several times but no sound came out. what did one say to the embodiment of an angel? nothing. the musician did, however, pull out her hand terminal to quickly jot down the poetry that came to her.

" i wanted to make sure there was enough for everyone else, " halston finally managed to quietly say. " i'm also not... " very hungry. " my father was one of the people crushed beneath the mirror and... " she clenches her jaw to keep back the tears. " thank you, though. "

@aeternals / halston get a starter.

The cargo bay is, for the most part, quiet now. The chaos of getting the refugees across from the ship his had found adrift and getting them settled with at least basic needs tended to had been a headache, but a necessary one, and it was a good test of seeing just how well his people would perform under pressure, when elements were outside of their control, in a way that didn't put them in any immediate danger. Most of their 'guests' had settled into whatever makeshift beds and camps they could, but there was one in particular that he made his way to now, crouching down lightly in front of her, elbows resting on his knees as he offered out a bottle of water and a few of the spare ration bars. "You shouldn't go without, sesata," he spoke, his words warm, his smile open and easy. "You need your strength, sasa ke?"