myironeyes: (Default)
Marsh || Steel Inquisitor ([personal profile] myironeyes) wrote2014-10-06 06:11 pm

(no subject)

[Public Video]

The kitchen is, as usual, understaffed. We were understaffed before this latest shake-up and now we are more understaffed. We require at least one temporary warden supervisor for the lunch shift and four or five new inmates.

Those interested should speak to Riddick or myself.


[Open spam, backdated throughout the last few days]

[Marsh can be found in odd times at odd places - late and night on the deck or early morning in the greenhouse, hunched over, making soft, choking noises, his little cockatiel crooning worriedly and attempting to preen his short hair. Folded in a corner of the ice-damaged stairwell, a hand splayed over his spikes, breathing hitched, shoulders shaking, looking like nothing so much as a man desperately trying to sob and unable to manage it.

The crying from Iris's room - it's psychic, he doesn't just hear it. It gets in when he is too tired to fend it off from ripped-open places, and then it becomes him, the loneliness and fear and grief, the confusion of the very young. He remembers himself - it is not overwhelming, not like Ruin at its worst, nothing like that - but he cannot stop feeling it. And the feeling is not entirely unfamiliar.]



[Private spam for Bianca]

[He decides, eventually, that it cannot be a trick, that something is real, must be suffering. Or perhaps he doesn't care anymore, as long as it stops. He arrives at her door with his jaw clenched from the effort of holding the lost, abandoned feeling back, and it still drips through his cracks, stings like salt in his punctures. He knocks.]


[Private spam for C'Rizz the Dalek Emperor, backdated to shortly after the arena]

[It's not a pleasant return, but he falls to the necessary housekeeping with a grim sort of gratitude. He asks the admiral for a resurrection, then swallows a truly foul amount of powdered pewter and a small sliver of feruchemy-laced gold. Then cooks until he stops seeing Iris on every blank nonmetallic surface, and brings the egg soup to C'Rizz's room. He knocks, then lets himself in.]

It's me.
wormintheglass: (Default)

[spam]

[personal profile] wormintheglass 2014-10-07 07:23 pm (UTC)(link)
[It is only a child, but it's vast. It hears Marsh - Iris' bus, at least, recognises him, remembers that Iris loves him, and does her best to modulate the other ship's shrill desolation.

Marsh is not its person, and at first it feels as though he might only be about to make it worse: there's a rise in pitch, a sort of escalation of the tantrum now it can recognise that someone hears it, is reaching.

And then it quiets: not completely, the jagged absence of the person its life entwines with is too big and terrible, but it holds onto Marsh, breathing in his brass, and the volume and sharpness of its grief seem to decrease.

Bianca is still on the floor, still clutching tightly to Iris' dogs, and when she raises her eyes to him again there are tears running down her cheeks.]


I need a drink.
Edited 2014-10-07 19:24 (UTC)
wormintheglass: (lineface)

[spam]

[personal profile] wormintheglass 2014-10-12 06:58 pm (UTC)(link)
Marsh, it's a timeship, not a puppy. Physical distance means nearly nothing to it - it'll be with you anywhere on the Barge. The same as it is with its own pilot.

[Iris would have been hugging him, offering backup, and Bianca knows it, can recall clearly the self whose first impulse that would have been.

She rises shakily to her feet, wipes her eyes impatiently and starts to pace the room, arms folded around herself as though she were only physically cold.]


My bus will help it keep the contact, if need be.