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the outer gate
"Open up, and let them in."
The Moira is no more.
With the damage done to the ship due to the timeslip, all that remains is a burning wreckage and parts to be taken—if the crew can find anything in the pieces. Recovery and headcounts are the main objective for the first several hours of being planetside, and once things have settled just enough, Captain Ira calls for a meeting and addresses those who are able in person to explain the situation. He draws a rough map of the area and explains where he believes they are - according to the terrain - and where they must go. For anyone who’s listening, he describes things like an “Outer Gate”, an “Inner Gate” and “gate sectors”. Believing this to be the best course of action, all crew are asked to explore and gather what they think they’ll need to make the long journey towards the central point of the Hub. Because the MIDs are no longer working due to the lack of a network, the Captains distribute a newer tech called the TAB. It serves the same functions as the MID but is lighter, slimmer, and has the ability to stick to any surface.
WELCOME TO THE MIDWAY HUB
Now that the smoke from the crash has cleared, and injured crew have been tended to, the Captains get everyone ready for departure by explaining what they know of the Hub. Almost stone-like, the creators built a domed workspace in the largest solid space on the planet they could find. Gates are the only way inside, and anyone who catches a glimpse of the compound will see that parts of the dome are cracked. Yet, everything still appears to be relatively intact. The Midway Hub’s terrain is very rocky and difficult to walk on at times. Below the surface is a honeycomb of intermittently dense and brittle stone that makes travel difficult due to the unpredictable nature of what lies beneath the crew’s feet. Those who can develop the tech from what’s left of the debris might be able to create something to determine which route is the safest. Ships and small crafts can be used to fly, but landing is a problem—rocks jut up in sharp peaks and the clearer spots can't handle their weight. Vegetation is sparse, consisting of twisted dark gray thistles that have sprung up from cracks in the rock and burn when in direct contact with skin, and what could be considered small animals here can be seen scurrying away the closer crew get to them.
☄ WEEK ONE
Crew are asked to hook cryo beds together and to use any appropriate vehicles that can be made or fashioned to fit the terrain to carry injured crew on the journey to the center of the Hub. Supplies are gathered, and the Captains, as well as any crew who want to, give the Moira a proper sendoff, heads bowed as they say goodbye to what’s been their home. Traveling starts out slowly, a line of a hundred-plus crew members making their way slowly forward. Stops are frequent, but camping for rest only occurs at night. Crew are assigned watch shifts, fires are built, injured tended to, and those who are able are asked to explore nearby caves and hunt for food.
Something akin to deer, though striped and only to be found in pairs, can be stumbled across at night. Throngs of dark purple mammels begin to follow the Moirans on their trip as well. They are friendly, curious, and eat the thistle. Meet the intelligent, watchful predators that aren’t easily scared away and follow the crew from a distance as if waiting to pounce. The thistle can be eaten, but only if cooked first, and those who sample the chewy plant raw will experience a burning sensation in their throat that doesn’t go away until the cooked version is consumed. During the first week, water can’t be found.
Anyone who does hunt, gather, or explore should make sure to that their TABS are on and it’s suggested that nobody goes alone.
Nearing the end of the first week, an Ingress can be spotted close by that crew can explore. If anyone dares to go inside, they will find the texture of the ground and surrounding walls to be rather soft. If inspected closely, crew will discover that what they originally thought to be rock is actually a living organism that’s fed off the energy of the Ingress it’s attached itself to. It’s not harmful and squishy to the touch. If pressed hard enough, it secretes a turquoise liquid with the consistency of water that might make a good substitute for that very thing. ☄ WEEK TWO
When crew finally pass through the sector gates, a strange sensation encompasses them, and a depowering of sorts goes into effect. The creators put in security measures meant to put all visitors on equal footing as well as to protect themselves from harm. All crew will essentially have the strength and abilities of the average human. An unforeseen issue, this causes Captain Thán to slip into a coma as he is no longer able to continue to recover at a steady pace, and with the loss of the former Captain’s abilities, crew can no longer be brought back if they die. For the first time, all Moirans are subject to permanent death.
During this week of travel, broken ingress machines and parts will be found scattered among the rocks, and new crew will come through. Unfortunately, these Ingresses aren’t in good shape, and anyone coming through will be in varying states of distress—some physical and some mental. New individuals will either have suffered an age slip, growing older or younger than their original body, some form of body transformation (perhaps that shiny thing they were wearing is now part of them somehow), or an extreme weakness they had never been subjected to before arriving on the Midway Hub. The new people will be offered to join their group, once found, and seasoned crew will be asked to explain to them where they are going and what they know.
The rest of the week will be a mix of greeting the new arrivals and continuing to travel to the center of the Hub. The closer they get, the less frequently they’ll see animals, and more caves will begin to pop up. ☄ WEEK THREE
Entering the third week of travel, settlements and houses begin to crop up and are prime areas for exploration and general supplies. Those who go inside may find items that have been left behind and evidence showing that those of varying species and cultures lived in the homes. Some appeared to have been scientists while others were explorers, but all living quarters are deserted. Crew who are less lucky in their search might come away with no fresh supplies, and others might walk into traps or safeguards left behind by previous tenants; these come in many forms, from mild paralysis to temporary unconsciousness. As there are more residences, there are also more caves. The entrances vary in size, and light sources will be needed to explore. Once inside, crew can find purple underwater streams, which can be consumed, and glowing surfaces. When crew drink the water, it temporarily restores powers, a few minutes tops, and then, extreme lethargy settles in for a couple of hours.
Further into the cave systems, crew will come across these lovely creatures that are attracted to sound and track through scent. They are highly dangerous and attack simply to feed. Killing them, though, is surprisingly simple as they are just as vulnerable and weak as everyone else. They are vicious in demeanor but only as strong as an average human.
The closer to the Inner Gate crew get, the less homes, wildlife, and more caves there will be. ☄ WEEK FOUR
The Captains, aware that the crew is exhausted, stop and make camp for the first few days. Someone mentions that it’s the holidays where they’re from, and the Captains do their best to throw a party. Set up at the base of a cave, tents are built and fires roar. Soft music is played in the form of guitar, thank you Ira, and Cúrre brings out some legumes that taste like cherries when roasted. There isn’t much in the way of decorations, but crew are encouraged to dig through their pac-discs and contribute to the festivities.
After a brief respite, crew learn that the entrances to Gate A and Gate B are inside one of the caves but any signs or markings have long since worn away or been destroyed. Groups are split, TABS are synced, and crew explore carefully until an entrance is found. Crew discover Gate A first, and all crew are contacted to gather there. The Captains will remain at the cave entrance until all crew are accounted for, and then, they’ll enter through the gate together.
( ooc; For questions, go here. Please comment to activity check to receive new ranks (if applicable)! )
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hohnkai) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thisavrou_log2016-12-02 06:54 pm
no subject
The smell of food has Snake's stomach twisting with hunger he hadn't even realized until this moment. When's the last time he even ate? It's not like he could keep track of the hours in all of the chaos, but he could probably eat a horse at this point. It turns out he'd walked past the right campsite, as he already knows Angela will be happy to share with him.
The last time they saw each other was during the monster attacks, so it's just as much of a relief for Snake to see that Angela's in good shape. He might be a little worse for the wear, but it's nothing that severe compared to some other scrapes that he's been through. Then again, a doctor (and a friend) will worry either way.
Her hug takes Snake by surprise for a moment, even though it's entirely understandable given the circumstances. After taking a few seconds to process what's going on, Snake lifts his arms to wrap around Angela's back. ]
I spent some time searching the wreckage and getting a lay of the land. [ They'd probably just missed each other, since Snake imagines that Angela had been busy doing her job, with all the injuries. He eases back slightly, his hold on her loosening. ] How are you holding up?
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Which meant it was only easier to take in those she cares about and offer them much the same. No matter where he falls on the worse for wear scale, Angela isn't having it— she worries easily and often and her arms about him convey it with the way her touch gentles at the nape of his neck and slender fingers feather in his hair, the other sweeping slow between his shoulderblades as long as he'll return the embrace. ]
Was everything all right? I know there were a few unaccounted for, but if you were hurt you should have come to the medical tent.
[ When he eases his hold on her she still stays within the circle of his arms, only giving up the slightest bit of distance and tracing her fingertips along the gauze, just beneath the dark red of old blood with a gentle touch. It leaves her stroking at his temple, palm steady against his cheek as she offers up a smile. ]
I'm doing all right; I healed as many people as I could to get them back on their feet and mitigate the workload. I've seen or heard from everyone I know. And I take to camping rather well, as you can see. Now, let me get a look at that head of yours. Have you had anything to eat? Water? I have coffee, as well, though I think mine is the last cup. You can have it while I make another to warm you back up.
[ As he'd embarrassingly, easily predicted, she settles right into the fussing and feeding as if she'd known his stomach was twisting in hunger at the smell of bread. To be fair, he looks like he needs it; that and at least a few hours of sleep. ]
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The way she runs her fingers through his hair is what really gets to him, though, and Snake squeezes his eyes closed for a moment as he accepts the touch. He almost looks pained, but the fact that he hasn't yanked away means that it's something else. It's a rare thing in his life, for someone to touch him with this kind of gentle affection, and he hardly knows what to do with it. He's caught between wanting to melt into the touch and knowing that it's a slippery slope he shouldn't slide down so easily.
This is the problem with someone who's touch-starved: they never quite know what to do when they actually get that thing they've been deprived of for so long.
Angela's words give him something else to focus on, and Snake shakes his head. ] There's a lot of people in worse shape than me. I didn't think it was a priority. [ Besides, he's run into Angela anyway, so now he's sure that she'll tend to the wound however she sees fit. He doesn't actually wince when her fingers trace near his forehead; apparently he's more used to hands prodding his wounds than sliding fondly through his hair. ]
Water would be good for now. [ Snake knows he needs to hydrate, but he also hasn't seen much in the way of water sources around here, which is worrying. ] And yeah, something to pad my stomach too. Thanks.
[ It feels as if he should offer something in return, though Snake doesn't know what he has that Angela hasn't already secured for herself. He decides to express concern in one of the only ways he knows how, as he takes another look at the campsite. ] Do you have anything to defend yourself? We don't know what kind of wildlife there is out here. [ Or when it might attack all the new, warm bodies that have found themselves on the planet's surface. ]
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It is likewise a good thing that she can't quite see his expression, then, though she can feel it form as her fingers sift through his hair and she's resting her cheek on his shoulder close enough for her breath to warm his neck, or she wouldn't ever have the heart to stop. The faintest draw of skin when his brows gather, feeling the scrape of facial hair against her sweater, and it's enough to imagine— that or he's smiling, but she can't hear it in his voice when he does finally speak. She'd stand there and continue until he'd had his fill because she's nothing if not the doting type, no matter how long it would have taken; until night crept by and they paved through to a new day. Would it truly be such a bad thing to steep in a bit of affection? All living beings were social to one degree or another, after all, and have always sought some form of comfort; it's in their nature as deeply as the need to eat, sleep, breathe. The doctor more open about it than most, and equally as willing to give when it's needed of her. He doesn't flinch or pull away, so perhaps it's the mere act itself that's drawing something out of him.
Angela can smell the dust and sweat on him, the tang of metal and the greenery and soil from the gardens, but eventually he does draw away from the hug and she turns her attentions to the gash at his head with an equally gentle touch, cool against his face. ]
A head wound is still a head wound; of course you're a priority. [ "You", that is, not his injury. Even if it's nothing severe, she could've at least had the reassurance he was all right and fetch an ice pack until she could see to him. ] Food and drink it is. I've stored quite a few large jugs of water from the ship, so if you know anyone in need of a refill, also, just send them my way. I'll top you up as well. Go ahead and sit down.
[ She'll walk him to one of two crude "benches" set by the fire with a hand at his back, making a faint motion at her thermal mug of coffee if he wanted while she gets her pacdisc from her pocket anew and begins to draw out a few things. A plate and bowl, to start, then she can carve a couple slices off her campfire rye bread and ladle up some of the stew she has keeping warm at the fringes. Once it's handed over she'll draw forth two of the bottles and set one beside him. ] Here you are dear; it's a start.
[ His touch of concern while he has a look around, though, and the very obvious words that follow get an amused quirk of the lips, sitting beside him to scroll through her list of items until she lands on the medical supply kit. That manifests as a larger bag considerably more involved than a first aid kit, but she'll let him eat first. ]
I should have expected such a practical assessment. I only have my handgun and the poker in the fire, so no, not particularly I suppose. [ A beat to gather her mug and take a sip of coffee, then: ] Are you offering to be my guardian? [ Okay, a little less cheeky this time: ] You're more than welcome to set up camp here if you'd like to share the fire and supplies; I packed far more than extra and I'd enjoy the company.
no subject
He takes note of her willingness to share her water supply not just with him, but with anyone else who might need it. When he nods at that, his head spins a little, and he lifts his hand up to his temple. Between the wound and his lack of food, it's no surprise that he's starting to feel woozy. For that reason, he doesn't protest when Angela leads him to a seat, settling heavily onto it. The coffee he ignores for now, knowing that water is more of a priority. The stew also smells amazing, and his stomach grumbles and twists, a painful gnawing that thankfully will soon be rectified.
Water first, though. If he eats too much too fast he'll just make himself sick, and so he forces himself to take small sips for now, though the appearance of the medical supply kit is also a sight for sore eyes. Angela definitely has a nurturing way about her. Even though they're the same age, he can't help but feel like he's being well taken care of now, and it all happened in a matter of minutes. ]
Well, I'd like to repay you for all this, and watching your camp seems as good a way as any. [ It's what he knows, it's what he does. Angela went to all the work of setting this up, so she shouldn't have to worry about guarding it at all times. He'll gladly take on that job, so yes, he is more or less offering to be her bodyguard.
He's got some basic camping gear, a bedroll and a small tent among other things, so setting up here doesn't seem like the worst idea. If he can gather more supplies to contribute to Angela's compound, then he'll also feel that he's pulling his weight instead of subsisting off of her. She wouldn't mind, but he does. ]
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She adores him and wants to see him happy. Comfortable. (And she'll always take good care of him as long as she's here, ya dingus.)
Angela braces him as best she can once he's visibly woozy, keeping him from dropping his weight and jostling himself worse as he sits and instead forcing him to ease down even if she had to shoulder his weight. Better yet that she doesn't have to instruct him to take it slow, watching as he takes slow sips as she settles close at his side, fishing out the supplies she'll be using and seeming to debate a suture kit or liquid suture glue, settling on the latter unless plans change once she's laid eyes on him. The growling stomach, at least, she will politely disregard. ]
This is nothing you need to repay me for, Snake. Friends take care of each other. I feel better just knowing you're all right and being able to see you fed and rested. [ And while it could scarcely be called "leaning on", she is just close enough to rest her shoulder against his arm— what would've been a playful bump any other day is gentled here, lingering. It conveys her gladness for his presence without infringing too far into his space. ] But your presence would be a boon, if I may hog you— especially if I ever need to leave Eiger here. Now, feed that poor stomach of yours before I'll need to untwist it.
[ She's in no rush and the way she nurses her coffee says as much, eyes closed while she takes the time to rest beside him. She may even be able to tempt him into making use of her bed just for a power nap once he's patched up— recharge a little before settling into pitching his tent and changing his clothes, making use of the basin she'd washed up in to do the same and feel a little better for it. Eiger would appreciate the cuddle buddy, she's sure. ]
no subject
Snake's familiar enough with the idea of liquid sutures or "glue" that he isn't put off when he sees what Angela takes out of her kit. Not that he would question most of what she did to him; at this point, he trusts her enough that he wouldn't balk even at some new medical technology he didn't recognize, so long as she explained how it worked to him before using it.
This is what friends do for each other, Angela insists, and Snake can't exactly argue the point with her either. It's not like he would expect anything from her if he were to help her with something, after all, but sometimes that sense of obligation is difficult to shake off. It's something he'll keep in the back of his mind for now as he reaches out for the bowl of stew and takes a testing taste.
Maybe it's just because of how hungry he is, or maybe it really is that good, but either way it tastes incredible and he makes an approving noise before having another spoonful. ] If the food's gonna taste like this, you can hog all you want.
[ Snake realizes that it's going to be difficult for Angela to work on him if he's got his head bowed down to eat, though, so he forces himself to stop for at least a few moments and turn his head toward her so she can access the gash. They're close to each other, but he isn't leaning yet, his back straight as he goes still. ]
no subject
At least he isn't arguing. By this point she's sure she could ladle up a boiled boot on his plate and he'd eat without complaint and still ask for seconds, but he does genuinely seem to enjoy the stew and he takes a moment to savor it, pacing himself— and in a roundabout way, offering his compliments. He shouldn't be surprised this time when she laughs. ]
Now don't get ahead of yourself; I rather enjoy cooking, you know. You'd never be rid of me with such a promise. [ A huff of that amusement winding down, then: ] I'm glad you like it. I need to use up the perishables, after all. After a few days it'll all be canned.
[ Enjoy it while it is homemade, she seems to say, though not quite so confidently. She didn't often cook even if she enjoys it. Who has the time to really experiment and stretch their legs? After a few bites he slows to a stop, though, and turns to offer her his head, and she smiles once more as she reaches to undo the gauze. At least she's on the injured side. ]
Keep eating, süässli. I can work around you if you're all right with me doing so.
[ She's careful to secure the gauze in place with her fingertips before peeling the dried blood apart between layers, not letting it tug on the wound or bring him pain with every unwound layer until she's on the last two, and then she's dabbing a serum on to soften the clotted blood, able to gently remove the gauze and taking a portion of the mess with it. she'll use the cleaner lengths wadded up in her hand to remove the excess blood, revealing a tidy gash to her yet to continue bleeding. It would once she went to clean it and disturbed the delicate framework of coagulation sealing off damaged capillaries, but for now she leaves it be.
She's dampening a soft cloth before motioning for him to pause, and she's going to wipe the sweat and grime off his brow and face with a careful touch, giving her as clean a surface to work on as possible and going the extra inch to just clean him up while she does so. Easing close to the wound, but otherwise splaying her fingers and making quick work of it so she doesn't keep him from filling his stomach, giving him a moment to close his eyes before brushing over them. Down his cheeks, off his nose, around his mouth and down his jaw to his exposed neck, and then she adds a little more water and dampens his hair to comb her fingers back through for a few passes, cloth then fingers. Both cleaning the dust and sweat from it and ensuring it stayed where she brushed it back, giving her access to the gash and reaching up into her own hair to produce a little bobby pin and secure his fringe up out of the way. It would be important come time for the liquid sutures. ]
There we are.
[ So he can finish eating before she goes any further. ]
no subject
If you're saying that me sampling your cooking could become a regular thing, I don't see how that's bad. [ Snake, for a moment, considers Raiden and his complaints about Rose's cooking, how he actually preferred the rations to what she'd make for him. It couldn't have been easy, but he really shouldn't be drawing those sorts of comparisons. Any time he comes too close to thinking of him and Angela as something more than friends, it feels like nearing the edge of a cliff.
Still, he's aware that homemade cooking is going to be a thing of the past for them before too long, given the limited supplies. Living on canned food isn't going to kill anyone; he's more concerned about the possibility of running out of water.
Even though Angela gives him the go ahead, it's hard to focus on eating when he's got someone working so close to his face, and so he only steals a few bites here and there as she pulls away the bloodied gauze and then cleans him up. The pain is minimal, just some stinging here and there that can't be helped, but it's nothing he hasn't felt a hundred times before, so he barely reacts to it. All things considered, he's a very obedient patient, even more so than when he'd been aged up. Less to complain about, now.
Angela gets his hair out of the way with a pin, something that draws a brief smirk out of him even though it's practical of her to do. Normally the bandana would do that, but that's not an option right now. Still, she seems ready to work, so he scarfs down the last few bites of food and then sets the bowl aside, enjoying the fact that he finally has some warm food in his belly. ]
Süässli? I'm not familiar with the word.
[ Sure, they can talk language while she patches him up. It gives them something to focus on other than the less-than-stellar position that they're in post-crash. ]
no subject
You'll say this until the day I spring sauerkraut on you. And then a week will follow where you debate whether I actually like you or not because pickled cabbage is a very unique and acquired taste, and I'll have to warn you I haven't had much chance to practice in the kitchen. But stews were an art passed onto me even as a little girl, at least, so I'm confident in this. I'll always be happy to see you fed, though, so please don't hesitate to come by for food.
[ Because in the end, there's no denying that she cares about him deeply and he could do with some home-cooked meals. Made with love or no. (But definitely made with love, because that's just how she rolls and anyone catching her cooking will find her humming over it like a spell.) She is less nervous in toeing that ledge even as she stands right beside him at this cliff— perhaps because she stands right beside him, a little more prepared to take such a plunge and far more certain that what awaits them are indeed warm waters instead of rocks to dash themselves upon. Bolder in her assertions and her offers, inching closer and closer.
He takes her work easily, moving to accommodate her every move and only eating between her fussing, not so much as a twitch of the brow as she works the gauze loose from his wound— certainly not missing the little smirk of his when she's pinning his hair out of the way, and it earns him an amused crinkle of her nose before he's spooning up the last of the stew to set his bowl aside, turning his attention and pliancy on her in full.
And then calling her out on her term of endearment, to which she has the decency to look a little embarrassed and surprised about. ]
Oh, Snake, I'm sorry— it's the same as 'sweetie'. Just a nickname in Swiss-German. It slipped out. [ It isn't anything overt; it's used the same way one refers to children or other dear ones, she just hadn't meant to use her own tongue to say it. If he's familiar with German, it's very close in sound to süß, sweet, said nearly the same save for the "-li" at the end. Strictly Swiss, and a diminutive often used for nicknames like calling one "little mouse" or "little one". Context clues are life, but Swiss-German is such an obscure dialect. Her fingertips settle at his jaw and her other hand at his temple, a gentle touch to guide him to move his head for her: ] If I can have you tip your head a little— right here. Let me get this guy cleaned out.
[ The little bit of peroxide is a quick flush caught on a cotton ball, then a bit of water to ease the sting before she's dabbing the excess liquid up and placing a small square of gauze loosely over top while she goes to wash and disinfect her hands, snapping on a pair of disposables before gathering up the dermal glue. When she steps back over she's moving to stand behind him, once more guiding his head to see in full by the fire. ]
This is going to take about twenty to thirty minutes to set up; are you fine to sit here that long?
[ This is his last chance to drink a little bit of water or do some other business before she has to tip his head back to keep the glue from running, but the cut itself would seal up just fine with liquid sutures; they're their own protective seal, as well, and would prevent infection or irritation. It's worth the time spent. ]
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He exhales through his noise in the approximation of a laugh as Angela begins to speak about some of the foods native to her home. While he can't speak to what any of it would taste like until he's actually tried it, he gets the feeling she's exaggerating. Not that he's going to insist that she cook for him, and they're not in the position for it right now anyway. He nods when she extends that offer. He doesn't want to hog all the good cooked food, but if he's really feeling the hunger, he'll keep it in mind. ] Sauerkraut can't be too bad.
[ As for that cliff edge? Snake usually isn't opposed to flinging himself into dangerous situations, but in this case he might need a little push to make the leap.
It's not like he meant to call Angela out when she used that word, but it looks like he's put her on the spot. Snake may know a number of different languages, as they tend to be necessary in his line of work, but Swiss-German is a little too specialized. He can make the connection between the original German and the deviation once Angela explains it, and he's familiar enough with language patterns in general to put together that it's a diminutive. A fond nickname of sorts, and not something he should read into too deeply. He makes a sound of acknowledgment, but doesn't say much more on the subject.
As soon as she directs him, Snake tilts his head and gives her whatever access she needs. The stinging of the peroxide is only there for a few seconds, and there's a peace of mind that comes with knowing that the wound's being cleaned out. At her warning about the time this will take, Snake takes that last chance to finish off his cup of water and then tilts his head back. ] Pretty sure stitches would take longer. I'm good, Doc.
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Consider it a sincere thank you for protecting her. At least he's relaxing, here, an amused huff giving way to her description of sauerkraut before her amusement surfaces as well and she gives an insisting little "really" under her breath. ]
We'll see about that if ever I get my hands on some. I never mind sharing.
[ (Should the time come, she'll take his hand and tug him along with her, don't worry. ♥)
Angela wasn't put on the spot so much as a little embarrassed she'd ended up using the term in general, but it isn't as though she hasn't called him by other endearments before. It's a little more personal in her own tongue, perhaps. Much of Swiss-German is closely enough in line with German to get the gist, at least, and often times she simply spoke German for its availability and renown, slipping out amidst her English. The occasional phrases or nicknames didn't hurt though and it kept her tethered to a home so far away, to who she was— like letting off a bit of steam so the pressure didn't build inside, in a strange way. ]
Right then, here we go. You're stuck with me for the next half hour at least.
[ Snake gets himself in order and acquiesces to her attentions, tipping his head back into her hand to guide him just so, using a couple of butterfly closures near the top and bottom ends to draw the wound edges together, still giving her full access for the glue. With that in order, she thumbs down the plunger on the pen, the delicate glass ampule inside smashing for both compounds to mingle with a little shake, the pinch of her fingers manipulating the gash as the tip directs the bonding agent in with the precision of a syringe. Still one-handed, it's flipped over between slender fingers and capped to deposit in her pocket while she waits for it to set. Ten, fifteen seconds pass as she sets up the edges as precisely as possible and the compound settles in and bonds, and she can slowly let go. Now for it to dry. It took a few coats to ensure stability and protection as well, but while it dries, her weight settles down on a knee behind him, guiding his head to prop at her shoulder. ]
Here, so you don't get a crick. It will take a few minutes to dry for the next coat.
[ Closer to six, really, so don't mind her hands resting at his shoulders to settle into a gentle knead— careful, because she's already predicted just how rock-solid he'd be with tension. She's owed him this for... how many months, now? Four? After all that's happened today and all that faced them in the coming weeks, he could use it. She starts at the joints and works her way along his collar, thumbs swirling into the muscle. It'll pass the time, and he needs to relax if he ever hopes to get some rest. ]
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As unlikely as it is that Angela would find any sauerkraut out here, it's always possible. Space has already surprised Snake plenty of times. Granted, that all depends on if they ever make it off this rock.
When Angela insinuates that Snake is "stuck with her," meaning that he would have any problem being around her to begin with, all he can do is shake his head (though only slightly) in mild exasperation. If she hasn't figured out that he doesn't mind her company (that he enjoys it, even), then he's not sure what to tell her. She's someone who's easy to be around, even for someone like him, and he would have figured she'd noticed by now. Then again, he isn't always the best at sending the right signals, and she isn't familiar enough with how he is with everyone else to have a point of comparison. ] Stuck. Right. [ The sarcasm should be fairly obvious.
After that Angela jumps to work, prepping the gash so that she can glue it back together. There's some pulling on the wound, but overall the pain is minimal. The sensation of the cool glue on his skin is strange, but he wouldn't call it uncomfortable. If anything, having to sit here for thirty minutes in the same position is the uncomfortable part. Angela accounts for that by settling behind him and letting him lean his head against her for support. That alone would be enough, but then she starts to massage his shoulders too.
Man. Did he luck out here or what? ]
You don't have to do that, you know. [ It isn't that he doesn't want it, but that he's bad at taking things from people in general. The way that his body starts to loosen and he closes his eyes should be a solid indication that her hands are doing good work. ]
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His exasperation and further sarcasm is enough to make her laugh, soft though it may be under her breath— she knows better, of course, or they wouldn't have been seeing each other near every day for the last six months. Somewhere along the way their schedules would have shifted, they'd see less and less of each other, until they'd become acquaintances passing each other in the halls once every blue moon. No, they valued each other's company, that much was clear, and she's noticed the gradual degrees he's relaxed in her presence as time went on. Recognizes his trust in her when he gives himself over to her direction so easily, allows her behind him in a vulnerable position when he's been ground down to the bone (though she'd never say he'd be out of fight, because she has a hard time believing someone like Snake could ever fail to get back to his feet). It's an amusement that says I know, reaffirming her gentle ribbing. She hasn't often seen Snake interacting with others, but she's come to recognize that it is vastly different from how he is in her presence the few times she has seen him around others, even at a distance. When it's just her and conversation comes easier, he reveals a little more, he doesn't mind her nearly as sharply as he would a stranger in his vicinity. It's trust, not neglect. And that is difficult for most soldiers to come by without explicitly being assigned someone to their unit, knowing they're your rank and capability, that they're fighting on your side and someone else has made the executive decision to fill the hole in your team. ]
I did say 'at least'. I could assign you overnight observation in case of concussion and hog you all to myself if I really wanted to abuse my power.
[ The famous doctor's orders. Practiced hands make quick work before she's settling into the massage, and that is significantly more indulgent. Gentle so as not to hurt him, steady. This, too, is well-practiced— massages come part and parcel with cybernetics and working with amputations, the resultant physical therapy. He can say what he will, but the moment his eyes close and she feels him begin to unwind beneath her touch contradicts that spectacularly and he can likely hear the smile she wears in her reply. ]
Consider it my thanks. [ For many things, really. His friendship. The trust he offers her. His faith in her to do well by him. And if he wanted to be absolutely clinical about it: ] For getting me here, if nothing else. You've fought hard and we're all here, safe, and you did what you could for anyone who may not have to ensure they're still accounted for. When I'm done here, you need to rest. You might as well begin winding down in preparation for it, or you'll be lying there awake for hours.
[ Her touch smooths up the sides of his neck now, swirling carefully up his nape, tracing the line of vertebrae to his hairline. Then the heels of her hands knead in soft, nails scritching in his hair to steady the motion. She'll alternate until he's malleable, worked as loose as possible. ]
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It's the steady routine of Snake's interactions with Angela that has led to him being more comfortable around her, as it would with anyone you see on a regular basis. Their first conversation had come easily, even, and that probably should have been the first sign that they would become friends. Snake doesn't always hit it off with people in that way; usually it takes a few conversations at the least. And as for trust, it's not something he gives over easily, yet Angela had made it as smooth of a process as it could be, given her gentle nature and her compassion for looking after other people. She behaves the way a doctor should, which only reminds Snake of what crappy luck he's had with them until now.
Of course, then she teases him about abusing her power and he huffs in amusement. ] You're not taking into account how bad I can be about compliance. [ While he's been obedient with her, he's not always as good at following doctor's orders. It's for the best that she hasn't lectured him too much about his smoking habits.
It becomes more and more difficult to argue with the points Angela makes as she continues with the massage, though, her hands managing to carefully work the knots out of Snake's shoulders. Sitting here with his eyes closed like this, he can almost forget that his forehead is busy fusing itself back together, or that he's stranded on some desolate planet, as far from home as anyone could get. She's right that he needs some rest and that this might be exactly what the doctor ordered when it comes to relaxing enough to manage that. ]
I'm starting to think you have my number a little too much. [ There's little force in Snake's words, though, and he's actively leaning into Angela's touch now, sometimes even trying to direct what area she focuses on next. ]
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And what allow her to take care of others who have crumpled to the ground and get them back on their feet, teach them how to circumvent those demons. Remind them that they're human and there's still good in the world. That caring doesn't make anyone weak. Even the oldest, most experienced soldiers could use the reminder now and then.
Like the one in her hands, head resting back against her shoulder. She can feel the heat of his skin at her neck even as he's calmed— she's always run cool and appreciated the warmth of others, and Snake's is no different. Near enough to draw her in if she didn't have a job to finish, it's all too tempting to lean against him here and just rest her eyes when that trust runs both ways. It's been a long few days for all of them with little to no sleep, after all. ]
And you don't realize just how persuasive I can be.
[ To make her point, she puts a little more effort into his shoulders, working a couple of the worst knots loose and allowing her to press a little deeper, looking down at her wrist with a glance. A couple more minutes. Her smile is in the warmth of her tone, words murmured softly between them; why raise her voice when he's right here? The little breath that slips out of her with his retort disturbs his hair and she'll let him shift beneath her touch to direct her hands, pressing in where he's rolled a shoulder into her touch or tipped to the side. ]
Is that such a bad thing? To have someone who knows you well. —Here? [ Asking if she has the right spot he'd wanted, palms pressing into softening muscle. ]
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Right now, though, Snake isn't too concerned about the state of the world or their crew. It's something he'll dwell on later, after he's actually had some sleep, but for the moment he can narrow his reactions down to this one interaction, Angela's hands pressing into his shoulders and the soft words she speaks near his ear. Danger, danger, it flashes behind his eyes, but he's too tired to worry about it right now.
Between his noncompliance and her persuasiveness, it's hard to know who would win that tug-of-war, though Angela looks to have a steady lead so far. When the pressure from her hands grows stronger, Snake can't help but let a few groans escape. He thinks back to that time when he'd been aged and she'd helped him; the massage is a littler easier to enjoy under these circumstances, he has to admit.
When she questions him on the positioning of her hands, he responds with a quick "yeah," then considers her question. To have someone know him well requires opening up to them, which is always a risk. On the other hand, being closed off from everyone around you is no way to live either; he's at least learned that lesson over the years. ]
Guess it depends on what they do with that information. [ Always a practical answer on hand. ]
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The good doctor continues her ministrations on taut muscle, hands sinking down to the planes of his shoulderblades to knead in here, as well, then back up to swirl over his shoulder joints, taking her sweet time until a glance at her wrist indicates it's time for another layer. The glue is drawn back out of her pocket and the second application goes on while she supports his head with her free hand, this one spreading out from the wound to form a solid base and limit tearing or tugging before she's capping the pen off once more to tuck away. Her touch eases right back in where she'd left off, palms settling at the joints and slender fingers seeking out muscle definition, pressing into him with care. The groan she works out of him gets a curl of her lips buried in his hair, and yes, this is far better than her last chance at massaging him. He wasn't in such agonizing pain this time around and she wasn't jabbing needles into his joints, marveling at how his skin could have deteriorated in only two days, how he could have aged so drastically that the pains hit all at once and he'd been miserable.
They've grown closer since then, as well. Learned more about one another, felt out their space and how much they could give or take in multiple aspects. But more importantly, they made a great team, didn't they? They'd made it here after all, even after parting ways aboard the Moira. She covers as much ground over his shoulders as she can, giving his muscles a break from her kneading as her palms slip back up his neck and her thumbs brush along his hairline.
She nearly thinks he won't answer, and it's a stutter of surprise in her actions when he speaks up again, assuming he'd fall silent. Hasn't he already begun to open up to her? Angela's tried to prove herself worthy thus far. ]
And if I told you I'd guard it with me life, keep the cards close to my chest? —I believe is how the phrase went.
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Angela doesn't fill the exact same role, and Snake's reluctant to even try and label it at this point, but she does a lot to make him feel less like another Snake and more like someone with an actual name. Not that he's told her that name, not sure how to even offer that up unless she asks. Maybe someday.
Snake remains still as the second layer is applied, figuring that it gets him that much closer to this all being over with. Angela's doing her best to make this an enjoyable experience, but Snake still isn't that comfortable in the role of patient. That being said, she's doing some good work on him, particularly at the areas around his shoulder blades where he carries so much tension. She could probably spend an entire hour working on his shoulders and back, but that's not something he would ever expect from her or anyone else. His stress relief mainly comes in the way of exercise, though Angela knows that too.
It's not like he'd meant to startle her, though Snake finds her words easy enough to respond to in turn. ] Not sure your life needs to come into it, but... in that case, I guess I'd have to say you're right. [ His voice is more subdued than usual due to the massage, and there's really no question that he's conceding on this one. You win this time, Zeigler. ]
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Angela does at least know he has a name; she's known Ahab by his name for so long that seeing his handle on the MIDs had actually surprised her— but the pieces fell together easily enough when she saw Venom Snake on the list of crewmates with his picture beside it. She knew of his connection to Miller, and of Miller's connection to Snake from their conversations held months back. That meant that quite in the reverse, Solid Snake had a real name buried somewhere as well. They were just call signs, much as she's known as Mercy, though she'll admit it strange she hasn't learned his name yet— different roles and different clearances, she supposes. She won't pry tonight.
Snake proves yet again to be an excellent charge as she works on him, giving his trust to her as readily as his body as she adds that second later and goes back to work with the quirk of her lips. She's allowed to be a little pleased with herself for working him over the way she has, no? Every rise and fall of his shoulders presses into her hands and he feels a little more malleable, posture easing by sliver fractions as the occasional sound slips from him with a particularly deep press of fingertips to muscle, honing in on knots and tenser bunches of muscle fiber to soothe back down. She's just as certain she could dote on him for well over an hour and he'd still need work in a few days, likely taking the better part of two weeks to really work him loose— perhaps she'll come back to it later.
Some other night they've settled and have time to spare, when they've had more rest and the night has yet to beckon them off to their air mattresses. It wasn't as though he could hop on a treadmill or take to weights as easily out here, and there's a particular flavor of stress outside of a controlled environment like a gym. Sure, they'd get the same exercise if not moreso, but it wasn't the same. ]
I promise I'm excellent at keeping secrets, and I'm always interested in learning more about you. If ever you feel the urge to share, that is. I'd be honored if I could listen. Shall I work a little lower?
[ Since she seems to have found the sweet spot; she won't shift her attentions if he's enjoying her hands where they are at his shoulderblades. He sounds like she's done a fair job thus far, voice not quite as gruff as the exhaustion settles in, tone softening as he speaks. This second layer will dry a little quicker, and the third atop that— but she has a few minutes before the next (and final) layer. She'll make it count.
(It's not a contest, Snake!! Geez.)
( ♥ ) ]
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Granted, it had helped when he'd found his own cause to fight for rather than being ordered around by people with ulterior motives to satisfy.
Of course Snake couldn't be his real name, but it is a title he could hide behind, the same way that he ducks into cover when he's sneaking into a facility. What was it he told Meryl? On the battlefield, no one has a name. It becomes unimportant when your life is something that can so easily slip between your fingers.
Snake is becoming a little more malleable as Angela continues her work, like a string pulled tight which has finally come loose, allowed to relax and practically melt into her touch. It's taking a lot of his willpower to not lean the majority of his weight against her, and at this point it's looking like he'll be passing out as soon as they're done here, to finally get some decent rest. Regular massages would probably do him a world of good, and yet a routine like that is definitely something he'd have to find a way to repay.
It's become a frequent question that flits through his mind. Angela does so much for him, but what he can ever do for her? Well, apparently the answer to that question is that he can tell her more about himself. Snake has never understood why people would be so curious about him to begin with, but in this case he has to admit it's only fair. ]
Guess it depends on what you want to know. [ Another choked-down noise escapes out of him when she adds pressure to one of his problem areas, exhaling roughly before he nods. ] I'm not gonna say no. [ To her moving down his back, that is.
Just wreck him, Angela. It's fine. ]
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It may be unimportant to him what name he went by, but what about when all was said and done? What if he fell one day to enemy fire and never made it back to his friends? What would she remember him by, if not the name on his gravestone? It's only that much more important to those left behind to have every scrap they could get to walk forward with, clutched in their hands line so many threads until it's enough to make something out of; a blanket to pull tight about your shoulders when you miss their embrace, a sweater to wear out on the town and know they used to fill the seat beside you at your favorite bar, socks to accompany long walks in the middle of the night that used to echo with the steps of another. This isn't the battlefield, and he does have a name.
That he's softening further to steady hands leaves her smiling to herself, propping him up no matter how much weight he decided to lean back into her hands— it would work the heels of her hands deeper into the muscle, leave her fingertips pressing too hard until she adjusts how she supports him, but he's welcome to, and she can take it even incrementally. With his relaxation also comes his exhaustion, as palpable as moisture in a fog bank shrouding them, the low rumble of his breath the only thing indicating he even remains awake as his lashes flutter at his cheeks. It's endlessly rewarding to have a man like Snake's trust in her hands, feeling him melt into an attentive touch as he tries to fight the weight settling back against her. (Which is to say it's decided, then, that she'll be pestering him in a few days to follow up on his 'wound care' and trick him into another, then another beyond that. The human body is much like clay and shouldn't be allowed to harden or dry out, lest it become unusable. She can already feel those fine cracks in the surface and she seeks to see him malleable once more; Angie can't imagine he'll say no the moment she lays her hands on him again and begins to knead, but stranger things have happened.)
He's drifting, but her touch stills and strokes back up to tap her fingertip about the edges of the wound gently, ensuring the glue's set up and dried. When she's satisfied she'll add that final layer, nails catching a few stray strands of his hair to comb back out of the way before she's capping the glue and pocketing it for good. It's a quick enough process, really, if not for the dry time. She'll just be slipping right back down to continue her massage when she draws that choked little groan out of him, murmuring a soft apology before gentling her approach. She'll see that particular knot soothed before moving down, and hums thoughtfully when he... almost offers. ]
Hmmm, let's see then. I already know your favorite color, and that you lived in New York, and then Alaska where you mushed huskies; about your friend Otacon, with a bit more about where you came from. That you've been here for a year— [ Her listing is an idle thing, checking off the larger aspects of what they've discussed as if vetting possibilities. ] —I don't think I've heard much about the Moira's travels before I arrived, or the sort of food you like.
[ Angela works at that particular spot beside one of his shoulderblades where she'd drawn that sound from him until satisfied, moving her touch down to knead out from his spine, following the grain of muscle beneath. She can't bend too far with his head resting back on her shoulder, but she can still reach a little further down. He'll have to make the choice here in a handful of minutes whether he wants to go to sleep or lean forward to let her finish first, elbows at his knees. ]
And maybe one day I'll get your name out of you.
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Still, there are people who would mourn him if he were gone, more than Snake himself realizes.
The exhaustion definitely hit him in one sudden wave, but that's always how it goes. You push and push and push and never stop, and then the moment you decide to sit down for a moment of rest, that's when your body catches up with you and you realize how bone-deep the fatigue really goes. The massage is only adding fuel to the fire—they may be stranded on a planet that was meant to be their only hope and hasn't delivered on that promise, but at least he'll sleep well this first night. (And no, it would be impossible for him to refuse more massages in the coming days. He might even try to return the favor, though he's not sure his hands are meant for it.)
The final layer of wound glue comes and Snake barely reacts to it, any reservations he may have had at the beginning of this procedure all but faded away. That should be the last of it and then he'll be released by the doctor, not that he has any intention of straying far.
It's her voice that keeps him awake as her hands journey down his back, picking apart each problem area methodically. Angela lays out all the tidbits of information he's granted to her over these months, and it's really not much, but with the way she talks about it he almost sounds like a normal person. ] Alaska, then New York, actually. [ He murmurs the brief correction.
As Angela's hands reach a point where she can barely reach given how they're positioned, Snake does in fact lean forward to give her better access. If they've come this far, there doesn't seem any reason to leave the job half-done. Once he's got his elbows settled at his thighs, Snake considers her implied questions. ] Not too picky about food. I didn't usually get much choice in what I was served when I was younger. [ Another groan falls from his mouth as Angela's hands find and then smooth out every angry spot in his back. ] The first planet we went to after I got here was called Emiri. They were obsessed with matchmaking people, but the whole thing was really just a cover for experimentation. [ He's not giving her all the finer details, but that's because he's not really awake for it, and thinking too hard on it will get him riled up all over again.
A pause, and he glances over his shoulder at Angela's face, her brow slightly creased in concentration. It's just a name, and she wants to know it. Snake had told Meryl after they'd spent less than twenty-four hours in each other's company. It's not like he'll be giving something away, to just tell her.
His voice is quiet, but clear. ] It's David. [ Just like that. ]
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He relaxes further and further to her ministrations, her attempts to help him unwind as much as possible after he'd fought so hard for her and others. Ensured everyone he could reach arrived safely to the escape pods, and then to have been further searching the wreckage? He's earned it tenfold. Anything she could possibly do to help him rest, to see him unwind further and further until she's pushed him to his last waking second before carting him off to get some rest, she would press. Snake goes out of his way in her eyes on the regular and he doesn't ask for anything in return; perhaps he's making up for something, but regardless, he's trying to make a difference. That is something to be acknowledged and appreciated. (And she'd be glad to hear it. ♥ Any chance to dote will be a welcome one!)
It won't take but a couple of minutes for this last layer to dry, and she keeps him company until she can allow him to lean forward once more, the swipe of her fingers indicating when the glue has set and her nails are in his hair to retrieve her pin, ruffling it back into place. The information she has isn't a lot, no, but it's a fair start— his profession and when he came from, where he came from, what he was striving for. His friend and the way he spoke of him is good enough insight to their dynamic, as well as the sort of people Snake surrounded himself with. She knows what he does here, and that he's good with dogs, that she's seen him near every day and kept up with him. It's enough. It's plenty.
His correction gets a smile from her, offered almost under his breath and tone relaxed beyond measure, and she murmurs her apology to his hair at much the same volume, amused, before a few more moments pass and he's shifting up and away from her to brace himself forward. A silent request to continue, allowing her to continue working his back. She kneels down behind him to continue, heels of her hands smoothing out from his spine and thumbs following to hone in on those tense spots, gently easing them loose.
Honestly, she's surprised he even speaks up again. She expects him to fall asleep at any moment, but he answers her questions as they come, however ponderously with his exhaustion. ]
You've not developed a taste for anything in particular? We may have to work on that. [ A particularly tenacious application of fingertips-to-loosening knot and he groans for her, a rich little rasp of relief that leaves her pressing her forehead to his spine, indulging in the sound as she smooths over his skin, through the layers of clothing even. Next time she'll have to do this properly again, skin to skin. He's likely going to be tender from this. ] Matchmaking? And did you find true love?
[ All right, she is teasing a little, but she can't resist. When she feels him twist to look back over his shoulder, she'll straighten and lean to the side for easier access, head tipping with that idle little smile of hers. A soft "hmm?" slips out in question, and then just like that.
Angela's smile widens, warms, and she's very clearly happy. ]
David. I'm glad; David suits you.
[ She had to give it a taste, all right? Her voice is pitched his as quiet, near-reverent in how she speaks his name, letting it roll over her tongue. It's only made intimate because he's kept it hidden away, but she's glad she knows, now. ]
I assume you'd prefer I continue to call you Snake, in most situations?
[ Yet she's nearly down to the small of his back, having soothed him from spine to his sides as she worked down; he can almost slip off to sleep. Quieter still than their utterance of his name is the way she nearly breathes a soft thank you— for sharing with her. ]
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While it might be true that Snake is the sort of person who goes the extra mile, from his perspective he's just doing what he can, what he has the training to do. If he's got this skill set, the least he can do is put it to some use when the shit hits the fan. And really, Angela's been working just as hard as him. She's been pushing herself too, and also deserves a massage and a chance to unwind and get some rest. Maybe Snake can make that his condition for being so compliant thus far.
There's no need for Angela to apologize for getting that one detail wrong and Snake waves her off, attention more focused on the work she's doing on his back. As her hands move lower, closer to the sensitive areas around his kidneys, his shoulders go a little tense, but it's not in a bad way. He's enjoying this, maybe more than he should. At one point in his life he might have had some comment to make here, some attempt at flirtation, but he's too tired to even think of one right now. ]
I mean, you can't really beat fresh-caught fish... [ Angela leans her head up against Snake's back for a moment. It's almost like she's enjoying this as much as he is; maybe offering other people relief really makes her that happy. ] And no, no true love. The guy I got paired with disappeared a long time ago, before you showed up. [ No need to be jealous, Angie!!
That reaction to hearing his real name hits Snake square in the chest. She wants to know him, she wants that so much, but eventually she'll peel back enough layers and get to all the ugly parts, and then what? Well, he may as well enjoy this while it lasts. That might be selfish of him, but maybe he'll end up proven wrong, and she'll accept him all the same. She hasn't faltered in that so far.
He nods at her thanks, and at the question. The code name is still preferable around people he doesn't trust, one layer of armor that he doesn't shed just for anyone. Even so, his name sounds nice coming out of Angela's mouth. Still half-turned to face her (which might make it a little harder to find those last tense spots in his back), he can't help but indulge his curiosity, canting his head in question. ] Why do you think it suits me?
[ David and Goliath jokes aside. ]
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