survivalscost
for a minute there, i lost myself
for a minute there, i lost myself
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"hopefully not too long. doing double or triple the work around here doesn't really suite me." a forced laugh followed link's words before he chewed on the inside of his cheek, worry once more settling in the pit of his stomach. he cared about most, if not all, of the members of the community so seeing any of them sent out there to deal with the coalition to any capacity was hard. what was even harder was knowing that one of those people was his best friend.
before he could drive himself crazy by going over all the endless possibilities that would result in the group never returning or returning in smaller numbers, he quickly shifted into a more positive mindset. "on a serious note, i doubt they'll be gone for more than a couple days, if that. and i mean, if it is that long or longer, i imagine it's just because they're all being cautious. maybe even overcautious knowing a few of them." he tried to find comfort in his own words. they were all capable and could handle themselves in whatever situation they found themselves in, they'd all return with the missing scout among them, they'd all be in one piece — he repeated the reassurance to himself over and over again. "the real question is, will we throw another party? like a welcome home type of deal. seems over the top if they're only gone a say or two, but you know..." he trailed off, unable to comment on how much of a big deal it would be for them to all return alive and well.
Obviously Danny would've much rather caught some sleep, given that it was more practical to have him rested and ready for the next day. They would have to prepare for the arrival of the other group, make sure they had enough medical supplies if things got messy out there... and things were bound to get messy out there for sure. Not to mention how he would have to think of exercises to get the whole thing off of his students' minds. They didn't have to have school in such times, and parents had the right to keep their children home with them if they felt like it, but many of his students had a family member among the rescuer group, and he would make sure to keep them safe for as long as he could.
There was a level of exhaustion to him as the clock just went past midnight, and he pinched at his cheeks to get himself more alert while he nodded his head towards the direction of school's kitchen. "I can't wait 'till all I'm feelin' is the caffeine jitters!" He shot Link a tired smile before he started on the coffee. "How long ya reckon they'll be gone for?"
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if the link from a few years ago caught wind of any of the troubles that would befall the small group that called this campus home, he would've stayed clear of them, kept going his own way before inevitably jumping between even smaller groups. things had drastically changed from then though, and he was now one of those who called this place home. more importantly, he cared about those here enough to stick with them through thick and thin instead of bolting at the first sign of trouble. it was normally a comforting thought, that love, but in light of recent news, it did a number on his nerves and twisted the pit of his stomach uncomfortably. any and all conversations, including those that circled around the topic, felt like welcomed distractions from his own mind at this point.
"i feel like i might regret it when i have to wake up tomorrow morning," despite the world stopping news they got, they all still had their responsibilities to tend to here, "but on the other hand, i doubt i'll be getting much sleep anyway." he thought through the question aloud. "i'll have some. probably better to stay alert enough to lend a hand than toss and turn in my bed all night, right? and i can always have more coffee in the morning to get through caring for the animals." and then more coffee later that night to stay productive, repeating a tiring cycle until the other group made their return or he was found passed out in one of the stables from exhaustion — whichever happened first.
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Danny was chewing on his lower lip, a bad habit he still didn't grow out of, not even after a decade. He hated the tightening knot of worry in his stomach, but he hated the fact that he had to watch half of his community leave and march into certain danger a lot more. He could only hope that they had some sort of a plan. And a backup one, too. And maybe a backup for the backup. He just really needed them to play it safe.
While the other group was gone, he had a bunch of kids to take care of, probably going to be sitting by their desks in the morning, in a somber silence that would be unlike them. His heart squeezed at the thought already.
He sighed heavily, willing himself to think... well, if not positively, then at least less negatively. "There is... absolutely no way I'm 'boutta sleep after this, so I'm gon' make myself a cup of coffee. Anyone want some?"
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"it's supposed to be a few miles out." which, under normal circumstances wouldn't be too much of an issue. the current weather conditions, however, made the trek not only miserable, but more dangerous given the low visibility. "it'll probably feel longer in the rain though." santiago quietly wondered if any of them were going to get sick in the coming days thanks to hiking in the bone chilling rain — assuming nothing worse happened to them between now and then.
he tried his best not to dwell on either outcome and instead kept his focus on the present, squinting in the rain to look out for any movement outside of the small group. as will commented though, it wasn't easy to see much. "it's not ideal." then again, nothing about the situation at hand was. "it might make us a little harder to see, but not being able to see shit ourselves isn't a great trade-off." in fact, both groups blindly stumbling into each other sounded like a great way for them to lose more people. his comments were realistic, but lacking in comfort or the morale boost some might've been looking for, so he spoke up once more, "as long as no one decides to rush ahead or anything like that, it should be fine." he may not have fully believed his own words, but he figured it was better than dishing out something more pessimistic and dragging everyone's spirits down further.
in mere seconds, he was drenched. will frowned, wishing he still had a decent raincoat. he tugged at the collar of his wet shirt. he was halfway tempted to make some snide remark, ('do you think this is a bad sign?'), but resisted. the day had already been unfortunate enough already.
"how far is this place supposed to be again?" his whisper was low, gravely. "i can't see shit."
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santiago had only just climbed down the watchtower right before the tiny body collided with him. instead of staring down at the young boy with his usual overly serious demeanor, there was a gentler expression on his face. after all, he was just a kid trying to have fun, from what santiago could gather at least, in a less than ideal world. "you okay?" he considered throwing in a soft reminder to watch where he was going in the future, but refrained. it didn't really feel like his place nor did he know what stuck with kids, never having any himself. luckily aurora caught his attention before a wave of what ifs and a few distant discussions about the subject could slam into him with an all too familiar ache. "you two been running around campus all day?" a bit of humor clung to his words.
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Hasen had always been a fast runner and it came in handy when running from the dead. But from his own mother, it was something else. The word, 'shit', had slipped out from the eight-year-old's mouth and Aurora had only taken one step toward him before he ran off, knowing he was going to get scolded and potentially put in a corner. An eight-year-old's worst nightmare. And they'd been running for who knows how long and ended up somewhere on campus. At that point, it had turned into a game. The two were laughing, Aurora shouting at the boy that she was gonna catch him and he was gonna get it. He would get a stern talking to. Aurora wasn't one for actual punishments. "No you won't," the little boy would shout back and would seem to speed up each time. If only someone could catch him.
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"well, i said i would and she was a bit more cooperative than usual when i collected some eggs so i took that as a deal of sorts." link didn't really believe that the chicken understood a word he said to her, but talking to the animals the way he did was a nice substitution for writing in a journal. it remained the easiest and quickest way to get out whatever thoughts he had all at once. he chuckled, "don't worry, i'll make up names for the people in any and all embarrassing stories that take place tonight." he paused for a moment, wondering if there would really be that many. on the one hand, it was the first major celebration they all had since the infiltration so it was entirely possible that some of the rowdier folks might get a little carried away in their party antics. on the other hand though, it was omar's birthday and people might have a bit more respect for the occasion. "i bet there's going to be at least two or three more."
link tilted his head to the side, really studying the other for a moment. within the safety of the campus it was hard to think of most people as intimidating, outside of maybe the guards and those who looked perpetually angry. he shrugged, "i don't know, i think anyone who has managed to survive this long has to be at least a little scarier than a chicken, or extremely lucky." to be honest though, he wasn't sure he fell into either category himself.
blotting at his watery eyes with a sleeve, noah turns slightly more away from the other and composes themselves fully. turning back, the smile that flickers over his mouth is amused at the others comments. ❛❛ you made a deal with a chicken ? now that's a story to tell . ❞ noah doesn't recall ever having a conversation with lincoln before, but they were pleasantly surprised at how at ease they felt - even after an awkward first moment. ❛❛ well , i suppose if you don't mention any names then you can share my embarrassing story. i'd hate for you not to have anything to share ! ❞
noah reached for a glass of punch (dubiously named, as being a scavenger they knew exactly what kind of old dusty alcohol bottles were found while on a retrieval missions) and took a sip with a slight wince. hmm . tangy. ❛❛ you're welcome to think that. it wouldn't exactly be too far from the truth. ❞
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IN THE MOOD FOR LOVE | 花樣年華 (2000) dir. Wong Kar-wai
#ʚ santiago silva ɞ ⁄ musings .#sidenote: i just know santiago loves wong kar-wai's films#the love ?? the loneliness ?? the longing ?? the loss ?? in those movies ?? santiago coded.
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i’m sorry for making your life more whimsical and serendipitous 🙄
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while he may have been hoping to find a moment of silence when he stepped outside the bar, santiago couldn't find much to complain about when it came to the conversation at hand. it wasn't full of the same high energy and celebratory bliss like many of the conversations he felt trapped in and half-heartedly entertained earlier in the night were. briefly reflecting on that thought was enough to cause a small pang guilt settle in his chest. he might not have gotten along with everyone around campus, but the people here were decent enough that they deserved whatever breaks they could get from the worries and burdens that haunted them, and it wasn't their fault that he couldn't set things aside long enough to celebrate with them.
before he let himself dwell on the unchangeable parts of the past that kept him from relaxing and mingling as much as some of the others, he directed his attention back towards a subject that was nothing more than hypotheticals void of lasting consequences. "probably not. to be fair though, i'm not overly familiar with the original lore and the details vary from movie to movie." he took a thoughtful pause to recall moments in time that were so far from where he was now that they felt more like dreams than real memories. "even then i wouldn't say i'm well-versed in the subject. i think i watched the most horror movies when i was a kid." it wasn't a very difficult task for a youngster to climb out of his bed and find himself sat in front of things such as night of the living dead or an american werewolf in london while his parents argued or had their attention elsewhere as they often did. he almost wanted to laugh at how different things were now or how the things he thought he'd have to worry about as an adult paled in comparison to the worries that plagued his mind now. there was no laughter from him though, just another silence as his gaze returned to the night sky.
in the smallest effort to shake off some of the pessimism that clung to him, for the sake of the current setting alone, santiago broke his silence and made another passive comment, "who knows, maybe next full moon someone will put together a werewolf movie night or something for me to brush up on all of it." it was doubtful that he would be in attendance either due to guard duties or disinterest, but there was a small ounce of comfort in the idea of a future with something simple for others to enjoy. as much as he tried not to place hope in a peaceful future full of things more reminiscent of easier times to avoid the crushing disappointment when things inevitably didn't work out, he was not immune to yearning for it, especially for those he cared about the most. "i'm sure there's got to be at least one laying around here somewhere."
𝑾𝑯𝑬𝑵 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑳𝑨𝑼𝑮𝑯𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑬𝑹𝑼𝑷𝑻𝑺 from behind the duo, radiating the party's vivacity, Reuven feels a dawning of new exhaustion with it. The introvert's achilles heel is always this: a weathering of energy by stimuli only. He feels the preceding weeks had been too full—he had seen too many things, and spoken to too many people, and had not spent enough time in his solitude with the plants or books to offset it. Still, he, much like Santiago, cannot resign to sleep for his own body will betray him. Sleep, now, comes only as a chain thrown secure around neck, dragging him to his knees. It is a surrender to the night and to the pitfalls of humanity. At night, he dreams of sparkling rivers and bustling streets; of waiting in line at restaurants and office hours spent reassuring a near-failing student; of back pressed firm against blown out wall, and motions towards his inferiors to wait. He dreams of a life he used to complain so readily about, and yearns so desperately for it now. The concept of the dead morphing into some other folklore thought never before possible might be more humorous if they all had not roamed the earth hiding from those demons, so animated and wretched. He wants to comment about how horror movies couldn't compare, but it catches in his throat, as he imagines, fleetingly, a life where they might all tell their grandkids about the time the dead ruled the world.
But he knows that there will be no grandkids. And if there are, this life will not be some nostalgic story to report on, far removed from their present. It will be front and center, and those they birth will be smack dab in the middle of it. A grim prospect nonetheless. "Yeah, pain in the ass," he echoes and worries for how much annoyance will morph into genuine trouble in his coming years. He is only a decade away from Omar's age. Will he be able to protect himself as he is now? Or will he die the inevitable come pounding on the door; come ripping him apart alive, when his body begins to fail him? And when, when will that be?
Lately he has been asking himself why. For years, he believed he had been robbed of everything; he had nothing left to lose. Those days were the darkest of his existence, and in them he thought of his ancestors, and how they had survived horrors he could not fathom. He wondered of starvation and confinement, and terror and agony, and how and why. Ultimately, he understood that he had not lost everything after all. He still possessed his dignity, and if he were to continue he would do so as his ancestors did and why they did. He survived if only to honor their fight, for how could he and how dare he give up when they survived so that he could breathe? No, he thinks of undead werewolves and does not truly resign to the concept as unwinnable. He thinks of his current life and knows that to fight for his place in the next day's existence is to pay homage to his ancestors, and to feel the generations of survivors coursing through his veins, and to know that even though he might joke or worry about some unconquerable force ripping him from this earth, that he would never go gentle into that goodnight. It wasn't in his veins. "You think they would match the lore? They got zombies pretty far off in the comic books... Uglier son-of-a-bitches in real life."
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PEDRO PASCAL AS JOEL MILLER.
The Last of Us, 01.02 - “Infected”
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"as long as you're enjoying it, right?" link was the wrong person to ask about anything alcohol related. the world ended before he was legally allowed to drink and he didn't have enough interest in the activity now to know what to order without some help from a bartender or friend. he nodded enthusiastically, "there's music, people enjoying themselves, and most importantly cake. if i wasn't enjoying it, i think there might be something seriously wrong with me." this was the sort of thing he thrived on, a room full of people he'd grown to care about in the last two years celebrating and enjoying a break from whatever worries and burdens that may have been following them around. "what about you, is the party everything you hoped for so far?"
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" i actually have no idea what's in this, " nyla confesses, tilting the glass in her hands. she knows very little when it comes to alcoholic beverages or how they're concocted, but she loves the fizziness. " maybe... vodka ? i just asked the bartender to make me something fruity and fun, i'll have to find them again to give my thanks. " she takes a small sip and her face contorts, lips puckering for a moment. the taste is definitely not one she's used to drinking. " are you enjoying the party ? "
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link perked up as soon as he heard the familiar voice. "i can't say things are that much more exciting over here." not that he was complaining. as much as he liked adventure and excitement, it was nice to have a few slow moments on the farm from time to time. something about the stability felt comforting amidst an uncertain world. "i would take mild offense to that, but i get it. it's hard to compete with these guys." he smiled toward one of the cows roaming nearby. much like the calmness here, the animals provided their own unique comfort. "yeah, of course. i'm a person of many skills after all. also, i think it might be blasphemous for me not to or at the very least, not very stereotypical texan of me." a chuckle followed his words. "what about you?"
@survivalscost
"what's up, linky?" hadley taunted as she approached the other. he was someone who could make her momentarily forget about her past. he made her smile, made her laugh. being around him... she felt a fraction of her old self. "can i join you? kitchen doesn't need me right now and i could do with being around some cute animals. i suppose your company wouldn't be too bad either." she teased as she playfully winked at him. she clicked her tongue as she nodded towards the stables. "can you ride?"
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link lit up like a christmas tree. he didn't play any part in putting the whole thing together, but it warmed his heart all the same to see the place he called home enjoy even a small moment of pure bliss. "omar deserves it either way, i can't picture this place without him." an argument could be made that he was just one person so his presence couldn't make that much of a difference, but link liked to think everyone who occupied the campus brought something special to it, something that would make the place feel not quite right in its absence. but maybe that was just the attachment and fondness that grew in the last two years speaking. "whatever brought everyone out tonight, it's nice to see. for a while there i wasn't sure if things would get back to this." he admitted, smile faltering for a moment. for years life seemed to revolve around survival rather than actually living life and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't worried that the infiltration wasn't going to force that lifestyle back on him. "if nothing else, it's a step in the right direction at least."
me, she thought. this is nothing more than another day to me. jiwoo wasn't blind; she could see how important mr. williams was to every person here. all night she'd overheard people recounting fond memories they had with and of him. she bet her father had his own stories after knowing him for ten years. it made the knife twist in her chest. because mr. williams was a nice man, someone who had been nothing but kind to her since she'd arrived, but that was all he was to her. she shouldn't be here. ❝ everyone i've seen is having a good time. so it looks like you all succeeded. ❞ the corners of her lips moved slightly upward. jiwoo hated the stone of envy resting in her stomach. ❝ i'm sure. an excuse to drink must help too. ❞ she followed his gaze back to the group of people, talking and laughing, as if the world wasn't awful. she took a sip of her water in hopes it drowned the jealousy.
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while there was no doubt link was having a good time prior to approaching the bar, his energy had only increased since his conversation with jack started. one of his hands flew up to his chest to grip it as if injured for nothing more than dramatic flare. "hey, now i'm doing the honorable thing here. completely shitfaced me would become the life of the party and steal omar's spotlight and everything. which we obviously can't have, it's not everyday a guy turns sixty, you know." whatever mock offense he tried to convey surely didn't make it through the wide grin on his face. "now when it's my sixtieth, we can go all out with the strongest stuff you can make." the tiny worry that something — or many somethings might happen in between now and then and prevent him from celebrating his own old age with many of the same people surrounding him now was quickly shoved down. with it being so far into the future, he couldn't justify worrying about it in the here and now.
instead he placed his attention back on the more trivial matter of what he'd drink for the rest of the evening. "after serious consideration," absolutely no consideration whatsoever was made in the matter, "i'll risk having to down a bunch of water in between a few stronger drinks. beer's one of those acquired tastes i don't think i ever gained." more importantly though, constantly returning to the bar, even just for water, let him celebrate the night with his friend even while she had to work. "now that that very important decision is out of the way, what are we toasting to?" his eyes studied the bottle, but he didn't give much thought to its contents before agreeing to the toast.
the sight of link often makes her smile wider, the chaos quietly simmering somewhere within reacting like baking soda thrown into a pit of vinegar, as if it knew his number one inciter is near. this time is no different, despite the narrowed eyes and pursed lips the answer to her question produces for a split second, the joy in jack’s features is a hard thing to bend in the face of her people having genuine enjoyment after all this time ( after all the pain ). at his remark, she discards the — now dried — glass to a side and reclines over the bar, eyes drifting to the pointed - out picture. a soft, content hum leaves her as she gets lost in the endearing view, in the utter happiness she witnesses that induces her own, snapping out of it only at the renewed sound of link’s voice. the smile on her face, before gentle and touched, quickly turns into an impertinent, derisive one. “ oh, we’re taking the tepid, coward route, i see ” it’s a taunt, one she doesn’t mean at all, of course — she’s seen what alcohol abuse does to people too many times, witnessed it in too many foster homes, in too many of the orphanage’s other kids’ bodies to forget. so she winks, smile soft, trim, but still mischievous, still unwavering before relenting. “ i’d go with a beer in that case. or … something stronger but i, uh, i’d sandwich a glass of water between one and the next, definitely. first, though … ” she prompts, leaving her last words to hang in the air while she withdraws a bottle of tequila she’s been aging for months now, along with two shot glasses from under the counter. “ i need you to toast with me. ” the cap is off in a swift move, and the open bottle gets held mid - air, jack’s eyebrows lifted in a silent question that looks dangerously akin to a challenge, waiting for link’s blessing to fill the small crystals.
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the other's words made link take a pause from taking in all the sights and sounds of omar's party to ponder the future for a moment. "i guess i can kind of picture it, making it to sixty." ever the optimist even in a world so cold and callous. "i have a harder time wrapping my head around what everything else will look like by then." so much about life had changed just in the last decade to the point he felt like it was impossible to make any guesses as to what the next three would hold. would the world find a way to get better? would things get worse? would this place be left standing? would he still be here? as much as he hoped for certain outcomes, it was all up in the air.
his eyes flickered between familiar faces who seemed to be genuinely enjoying the present rather than worrying about what would happen next, at least for the time being. part of him wanted to envision them all older, alive and well, but maybe it was better to simply live in the moment. "i think the future is impossible to predict like that." he concluded with a small shrug. "i mean, i know they're just movies but back to the future and blade runner were way off. not that the latter paints a pretty picture, but the flying cars about four years ago would've been cool."
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the music is almost deafening, dances around her with a beat that’s dizzying, beckoning her to move along with it, perhaps even to join those already dancing. nimble fingers are allowed a gentle tapping against her glass in time with the song, while her eyes scan the crowd in silent appreciation. she hasn’t witnessed this amount of people in joyous celebration in many years, too many years, and it seems foreign, bizarre — still, the happiness is infectious, even when a familiar shadow within her chest whispers that it will one day end. a shake of the head and such thoughts are vanquished, for tonight is not the moment to entertain them. tonight, she can let herself forget the cruelties of their world, she can pretend there are no losses, no pain. tonight sorrow melts away. taking a bite of her food, she notices her drink practically gone. maybe, the alcohol she’s consumed by now makes her a little more sociable, or maybe she stupidly wants a chance to explore whoever she would’ve been in a different life, one she dares to entertain for a short while. whatever the reason, she turns to the person next to her, a small smile curling her lips: ❝ sixty is a crazy number, isn’t it? i can’t even imagine making it to that age. ❞
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it wasn't much of a surprise when pretending to be in the celebratory mood hit its exhausting limit, but rather than call it an early night and head home, santiago stepped outside to take a few quieter moments to himself. as appealing as going home instead sounded, the reality was he would likely spend his time tossing and turning before inevitably heading back out to aimlessly stroll until his body was too exhausted to do anything other than sleep. while that was the norm on most any other night, it seemed somewhat disrespectful to all the hard work everyone had put into making the evening special for omar and maybe to omar himself. then again, maybe no one would actually think too much of it, especially when santiago's efforts weren't all that successful at masking his lingering worries.
before he can spend any longer contemplating how to spend the rest of the evening, the shuffling of the other pulled him out of his thoughts. "fuck." his curse wasn't really directed at the other. after all, it wasn't entirely the other's fault with how on edge santiago had spent the last year. and in a strange way, he was almost thankful to have something bring him back to the present. he shook his head, "it's fine. i just wasn't expecting things to be that much quieter out here." as if on cue a thunderous choir of laughter erupted back inside — only slightly muffled through the door.
the following comment got a small eyebrow raise from santiago. "would it make much of a difference?" he didn't think it would. the undead and werewolves both wreaked havoc with whoever they'd once been having no say or control in the matter — that particular detail echoing a conversation he spent many nights trying to forget. "i mean, i guess if anything they'd be a bigger pain in the ass to get rid of, silver bullets and all." the comment was tacked on in a small effort to humor the idea rather than continue to dwell on things that couldn't be changed.
open event starter!
location: outside of the bloater
NIGHTFALL RESTS UPON his features amongst the dwindling twilight, and behind the doors of The Bloater the music thumps against walls and bodies alike. Reuven is slipping forefinger over the smooth edge of his wedding band, now hung around his neck beside black dog tags, in an absentminded gesture of self-soothing. Introverted nature births abnormalities in social functioning like this; he chooses to linger outside after making his appearance, providing congratulations and watching the party rather than being in it. Now is the purgatorio, between event and solitude, where man stays in orbit of this celebration but only at arms-length. The crickets chirp all around, and if he closed his eyes he might be able to imagine a life some eons ago, of laughing with buddies outside a bar and cutting out early to go back to his kids, where he felt much more comfortable and entertained.
No. That is all lost now; eroded and opaqued with the reality that there are no children to go back to now. No wife. No pup. No three-story home full of baby bottles and cartoons. His chest aches with a pain he cannot rub numb—incessant, dulled by time but demanding all the same. He inhales long and slow, and none of the happiness shared amongst the group inside can reach his own features. Moonlight drapes his strong profile, and he tips his head back to gaze up at the moon, and wonder if laboring over wild strawberries for the past few weeks had really healed him like he'd been trying so hard to make reality. Whether this carbine strapped across his back was really the safety assurance he'd convinced himself it was, or if he had more to look out for now. To look inward for now.
Fingers had tugged the chain forward from his neck in their fidgety pursuit. Someone stepped out of the front doors, and he listened to their breathing rather than looking over. A silence befell them, and then he shuffled, and the other jumped suddenly, startled. Reuven had a habit of existing so silently he faded into the backdrop—likely an attribute retained from his service as a SEAL. "Sorry," he immediately apologized, then cleared his throat. "Didn't mean to scare you." A pause. Then a gesture up, at the moon. "Full moon... Wonder if the dead will turn into werewolves tonight." It was spoken with complete seriousness, with only the tiniest lifting of lips over canine to offer its playfulness.
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