2020-09-15: Breakaway

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  • Log: Breakaway
  • Cast: Lan Lilac, Loren Voss
  • Where: Assyria Base
  • Date: September 15, 2020
  • Summary: The day Loren has been dreading arrives. Sensing a terrible presence approaching, Lan escapes Assyria Base.


<Pose Tracker> Lan Lilac has posed.

 
    Everything is fine.

    Lan's just feeling a little cooped up, is all. It's been a while since the star festival. And the battle. And nobody has come after her for her attempt (indirect as it was) on the lives of Rachiel Medry and Minister Shakhan.

    It's just that she doesn't want to sit still. Even meditation is difficult this evening. So she paced her room for a while, packed, and unpacked, and repacked her mission bag in case Leah might send her on another assignment with little warning. Made her bed. Started a row of lace, and ripped it back out.

    It's this restlessness that leads her to a familiar door, a pillowcase in her hands. Even if she likes this, it's not like she wants to be seen carrying it to Loren's quarters.

    It's just that, she doesn't know if she'll be able to take care of it for much longer. Lan doesn't know why she thinks this, but it's not too unusual to own one, is it?

<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.

It's been a long day. --Correction, it's been a long /several/ days. Even besides the 'accident report' with regards to OS/Baphomet/Lydia, there's been a load of paperwork in for a certain Captain Voss. And that's before he gets to the heavily-damaged Schiehallion (he should get something nice for Anat as an apology, honestly...). The good news, such that it is, is that it's been a distraction for him from other things.

He's skimming through recent medical research when the knock on the door comes. Setting down the tablet, he rises to his feet and heads over to unlock and open it.

"Coming," he says, before pulling the door open.

There are maybe two people he'd expect to darken his doorstep. But there's no assuming whoever's here is either one of them, with all that's going on--

<Pose Tracker> Lan Lilac has posed.

 
    Whoever he might have expected, it's just Lan. ...Carrying a cloth sack with something inside of it. What new nonsense has she brought him this time?!

    "Hi," she tells him, glances either way one more time, and brushes past him. Rude!

    She's barefoot, but at least Lan's not wearing her nightclothes this time. She's got on her 'hanging out on base' outfit, a Solarian tunic over her usual shorts because she's never quite gotten comfortable with the stockings that are supposed to be part of the uniform. It's not like she has to wear it anyway, it's not like she's really--

    Lan realizes she's standing still in the middle of Loren's room and glances around. She knows that he has one too. It's why she brought hers.

    "...Uh. Were you busy?" she asks, even though Lan is pretty sure she knows what his answer will be.

<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.

    His gaze lingers, of course, on the sack itself. And then she walks right on past him. "Hey--"

    But there's really not anything else for it -- what if someone walked by -- but to close the door. He sighs as if put upon, and pushes his glasses up his nose. "...You know, most people wear shoes," he tells her, folding his arms over his chest as he leans against the now-closed door. "What's with the bag?" It seems a little too light the way she's carrying it to be something heavy/dangerous (like, say, a purloined weapon), but it's definitely something bulky enough. ...Clothing? Is it clothing?

    Is he busy?

    Loren just looks at her for a long moment like she's grown two heads. "No? I'm off-shift. I was about to get a shower." He frowns, eyeing her more critically. "...What's going on?"

<Pose Tracker> Lan Lilac has posed.

 
    Most people wear shoes. Even Lan can't disagree with this. Usually, she does too. But her sandal strap broke earlier today - certainly not a bad omen, just an unfortunate happening - and she doesn't like closed-toe shoes. So barefoot it is until she can sew her sandal back together.

    Looking at him, and then down at the sack in her hands, Lan blinks and reaches inside. "Oh! It's just-- you still have yours, right? From the carnival." She pulls free a stuffed animal. It's her Carro plush, a twin of the one he and Gwen had won at the Meria Boule festival games. She looks down at it, and then around his room as if she's looking for something. "Where is it? You didn't get rid of it, right?" They're so cute, even a grump like Loren wouldn't just... get rid of one, right?!

    "Nothing's wrong. I'm just--" Lan gently digs her fingers into the Carro's plush fur. It should be soothing, right?

<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.

    "My what?"

    He doesn't quite parse what she's talking about-- until she pulls it out of the sack, that is. "You brought your... but why?" This is the point at which she asks him where his is and, fully off-kilter, the medic is left to grapple with this turn of events for a moment. Listen, most nights he takes a shower, reads stuff, and goes to bed. Or something in that order! Not... asked questions about a stuffed animal that...

    "It's... under my bed," he admits at last, then walks on over to crouch down next to it and... drag it out. It's ever-so-slightly dusty.

    Still kneeling, he looks up at her and squints.

    "I hate it when people lie," Loren tells her rising to his feet and dropping the stuffed animal onto the bed. "...So quit messing around. What's going on?"

<Pose Tracker> Lan Lilac has posed.

 
    It's at least calming to see that no, Loren didn't just throw it away or burn it like he claims to have done to that Minister Shakhan doll. Did anyone actually see it burn?!

    Lan is quiet for a moment before sitting down on the edge of his bed to carefully start dusting off Loren's version of the Carro plush. They're ever so slightly different, after all - and Lan has tied a bow of her handmade lace around the base of hers' tail. "I don't know. I thought maybe--" Maybe it was lonely. How stupid does that sound? That something's happening and Lan doesn't have the words to explain it. No, it must just be-- something.

    Something just outside her hearing. The rustle and cackle of crows.

    She fusses over the dustier of the two stuffed animals until it's clean again, and arranges them both against his pillow without looking at Loren. "..."

    He hates it when people lie. Lan chuffs a quiet sound, something akin to laughter, and squeezes the Carros together with both hands.

<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.

    IT BURNED AND HE WATCHED IT BURN
    Anything otherwise is a terrible lie and a slander!!

    He just watches her as she works, decidedly bemused by the whole goings-on. What's gotten into her? Is this some kind of... Lamb thing?

    "You thought maybe what?" he asks, puzzlement giving way to mild irritation. "Look, what's going on?"

    He turns his head for a moment, watching her as she fusses over the stuffed animals with a rising sense of misgiving. Like there's something he's missing here, like something's slipping away from him right before his eyes. Like it's already too late.

    This may be why Loren asks -- demands really -- of her, "What? Are you laughing?"

    ...At him? Or, is there something that he's just missing here?
    Again, that feeling is a palpable one, as if he could find its pulse if he searched for it hard enough.

<Pose Tracker> Lan Lilac has posed.

 
    Her fingernails threaten to dig too close to a seam, and Lan forces herself to be gentler. After all, she isn't really mad at him, is she? Certainly not mad at the stuffed animals. Even if they're just carnival prizes, they're mementos of a day that she'd enjoyed. When she could pretend for a while that everything was mostly okay. "..." He demands to know what she's laughing at, and Lan arranges them carefully so that they're lying side by side.

    "You hate liars," she echoes, looking down at the bedspread. Her head hurts.

    She wants to go back. She misses being happy. She should have never left her village.

    A thin trickle of blood dribbles from her nose. "...Loren, I..."

    She finally chances looking back at him. The corners of her eyes are pinched. "...Do you hate yourself?"

<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.

    His gaze moves to the animals again as she once more rearranges them, but--

    'Do you hate yourself?'

    Then all his attention's on her. "Wh--" he utters, unable to at first form a coherent word. The natural response -- of course not, what are you talking about, what's this about -- rises within him, only to shatter immediately upon impact with her statement.

    Does he hate himself?

    Once, it would have been a simple question with a simpler answer. Once, he had more of 'himself' to hate.

    But instead, the world has lost its moorings in this instant and he reels, mentally grasping for--
    For some sort of handhold.

    The answer hasn't changed, in all honesty. But the realization that the answer is there is fresh and new to the person he's been slowly eroding into. Slowly, Loren shakes his head, and in the middle of this moment realizes that Lan is... bleeding.

    "Down," he tells her abruptly, then clarifies, going through his pockets and coming up empty, "Sit down. Head forward," he urges her, already turning away from the bed and heading for the shelving across the room. "Pinch your nose."

<Pose Tracker> Lan Lilac has posed.

 
    That humming is back, threatening to drown out the shuffle of feathers and the clack of beaks. The thing that called itself mother. The thing that drowned her in its song. How can he not hear it?

    Didn't the Stranger kill Loren once, too?

    Lan presses the heel of one hand against her right eye. "My head," she mumbles, "It hurts." She can hear him. He's coming closer.

    Loren turns for the shelves, and gives her an order. Like she's a dog. Like she's a Third-Class. Like she's a Lamb.

    Lan doesn't sit down.

    She stands up from the edge of the bed and strides to the door of his room, fingers slipping on the catch before it slides open. She has to get out of here. It hurts too much.

<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.

    To be fair, he would have said the same to just about anyone -- nearly -- who was in the same situation as her.

    But also to be fair, the situation isn't. Their relationship isn't. His power over her isn't.

    He turns and grabs the kit on the shelf, cracking it open to retrieve from within the few items he needs.
    Then turns again as she rises to her feet, grapples with the door, slides it open.

    To his credit, he only hesitates for a moment. "Wait--!"

    He knew it. He knew it, something wasn't right with her. He knew it the moment she walked in--

<Pose Tracker> Lan Lilac has posed.

 
    Behind her, he calls out for Lan to wait. Instead, she breaks into a run.

    It hurts. It hurts. Her head and her heart and whatever's left of her self, they hurt. He's coming. She's scared.

    Lan skitters around a corner, bare feet skidding on the tile floor. Ducks underneath the armful of supplies being carried by some Assyria grunt whose name she sort of remembers, and doesn't slow down long enough to open the next door in her way - she turns on a heel at the perfect moment and shatters it with a single kick, not hesitating to charge through the empty frame. It hurts. But as she runs, it hurts less - or, there's finally something to do about the pain.

    He-they-it's outside. She can hear it.

    And Lan can't let it in and Lan can't let it live and Lan can't bear it anymore.

    Loren's voice disappears in the distance as she bursts free, into the cool night air, and runs.

<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.

    He tosses the kit and its contents to one side and bolts after her, catching the edge of the door as it threatens to slide shut. "I said, wait!" Loren shouts after her, then shakes his head and follows in her wake.

    Where she ducks and evades the bewildered low-level grunt, Loren's less lucky. He slams into the poor sap, sending them both to the floor in a torrent of supplies as Lan

    kicks the door down.

    And runs. And runs, out of his sight.

    "Stop her!" he shouts, abandoning the man he'd just collided with as he tries to work out which way Lan went. "Hey! Someone raise the alarm! Let the Major know -- and don't shoot! That's an order!"

    It's happened. He knew it was going to happen. And now he...

    He doesn't know what's going to happen now.