just know this too shall pass [open]

[alan_1]

Who: Alan Bradley and you! (and a couple of closed prompts)
When: July 8th
Where: Around the ship
What: Alan comes back from the dead.
Warnings: Mentions of gun violence



morning | around the ship | OTA
[As it turns out, coming back from the dead isn’t too different from waking up on any other morning -- just intensified by a factor of twenty or so. He got out of the medbay about an hour ago and his head still feels like it’s in a fog. It’s difficult to follow any thought to completion and questions filter through his mind without any answers or even beginnings of answers attached: What happened to the ship? How many people survived? Wasn’t there a room here before? It’s a frustrating state to be in for someone as analytical as Alan.

You can find him wandering the ship, trying to take in the various changes wrought by the malfunctioning Ingress. Though it’s been this way for the past few days, it’s clearly all new to him. There seems to be something else distracting him as well: every once and awhile, he’ll raise a hand to gingerly touch just above his right eye. His expression always grows troubled at whatever he finds there.]

some ungodly hour of the night | science department | OTA
[It had been strange at first, returning to the place he had died. Death itself had done little to diminish the vividness of the memories. He can remember the exact sound of the door smashing in, the faces of the Caducans, the blinding, there-then-not pain of the bullet in his head. But after a few hours there, the memories at least lose their novelty.

If you happen to be out and about at night, you’ll find the light in the science department still on. Alan’s at one of the computers, eyes fixed intently on the screen. Sometimes he appears to be rapidly typing something, while other he simply stares as if lost in thought. At any rate, it’s odd he’d be there so long after every other crewman has long since turned in for the night.]

{OOC: Feel free to tag whenever! Closed prompts to be added below.}

Comments

[alan_1]

[If the change in subject isn’t acceptance, it at least suggests Rinzler knows he isn’t changing Alan’s mind on the matter. Maybe that’s the best Alan can hope for right now.]

I’m fine. [As far as he knows, anyway.] Just tired. Seems that I got off lightly. [The small smile that accompanies the words is distracted and doesn’t quite reach his eyes. It isn’t as if everybody had been so lucky. For one, it doesn’t feel right that he should be back while Sam’s still in cryo. Alan had died and they had brought him back with seemingly no problems; what kind of shape would Sam have to be in for him to still be in stasis?

But that isn’t a matter for Rinzler to concern himself with. Alan does his best to push the issue to the back of his mind for now, at least as much as he can.]

Do you know if there were any other casualties during the fight? Anyone who still hasn’t… come back?

[notglitching]

[The black helmet fixes on Alan with a stillness that might suggest uncertainty. Or outright doubt. Scans are useless as far as assessing users, and there's no obvious damage to functions or frame. But somehow Rinzler doubts the admins' methods were kind enough to spare his user of all side effects.

...Or that Alan-one would report accurately if they did. Still, it's not as if he can do anything about it, so Rinzler's helmet ducks in a nod instead, accepting the redirect.]

Multiple deletions aligned with Moira: multiple users, majority of monsters aboard ship.

[He can provide a specific listing, but he'll wait to see if his user narrows the field of interest first. It's not a short list.]

Rerezz count: partial. Stasis units in use.

[alan_1]

[Alan silently takes in the words that scroll up from the program’s MID. Users. Monsters. But no mention of any casualties among the other programs. He shouldn’t feel relief, not when others have lost their lives, but he does, sharp and rueful. He had been speaking with Tron when the Caducans had broken in. The program is more than capable of taking care of himself, Alan knows, but after hearing something like that, even the most capable might falter.

He refocuses on the next line of text that flashes up, frowning when he reads that not everyone who was killed has come back – “rerezzed,” as Rinzler says. He doesn’t know what separates himself from those people, if there is any reason at all or if it’s simply a matter of dumb luck.]

Who still hasn’t come back? [he asks, a list of possible names already forming in his mind. Death isn’t always permanent here, but that doesn’t mean it never is, and he's come to value many of their crewmates here. If there’s a chance any of them might not be returning, he wants to know.]

I spent forever combing the hiatus/drop page for a full list and then said fuck it :|b

[notglitching]

[Rinzler's mask ducks, fingers flitting over the holographic keys as line after line scrolls out. The tally isn't short, and there are a few unknowns marked in: crewmembers whose disappearance has yet to be publicly attributed to any one factor. Or whose bodies have yet to turn up.

Still, some are a much more certain bet. Sans. Elizabeth. And, of course, another name on the listing for in cryo that Alan won't have any trouble picking out.]