exsilium | Video, 10 AM on the 21st

[ When the feed turns on, there's a poorly-shaven and generally scruffy guy in a labcoat peering critically into the lens. He might not look familiar, but when he speaks, Transports who have been around for a while may recognize the voice. ]

This thing on? Hey, looks like we're broadcasting. I'm a genius, as usual.

[ The view shifts as he tucks whatever is broadcasting into the front pocket of his shirt, showing a hallway within the Hold. His voice drifts in from off-screen: ] We got the best of the best having a powwow in here. You know, the fate of all of Exsilium, and stuff like that. They're gonna tell you guys when they're done, but I say we pick up the pace a little. We're on a tight schedule, you know? [ The view strides forward as he makes for a closed door. ] Just our little secret, alright? I'm not even supposed to be on your fancy network — like they could ever actually kick me off.

[ His voice drops with the last part as he pushes open the door. Inside are ten Initiative employees, and Saul and Medusa, seated at a table and looking terse. Someone shoots a frown toward our loyal broadcaster, who mutters an apology for his bladder and slides into the only empty seat. ]

[ The conversation is already in progress, but context can be picked up on quickly. The Initiative has received Transport reports about "Black Code", along with the meaning — nuclear strike, aimed for Exsilium on October 1st. They have already looked into disabling the bombs via time travel, and found there are too many nuclear plants and resource sites to hit in time. And so these are the heads of each department, debating in strained voices and all looking very generally stressed.

The word "moonbase" keeps popping up, along with things like the catacombs won't withstand the blast, and border patrols are already in place, evacuation is suicide. It's also generally associated with extremely limited life support — the head of the base restoration project insists that it can't possibly sustain over 500, even all of the Transports will be pushing its limits. The conversation is headed toward the inevitable conclusion of abandoning Exsilium for the moonbase, but no one wants to say it. Finally it's the broadcaster himself who clears his throat and speaks. "Look, alright, we're fucked if we stay, and the only way off is our little outer space treehouse. We fit all the Transports and enough people to make sure they don't kill themselves up there, and just… sit back. They're supposed to be saving us anyway, right?"

No one looks happy with it, but no one disagrees. Silence sets in for a moment, until the quiet voice from elsewhere at the table, "We can't let word get out to the Exile population." That raises another round of loud debates, things like you're seriously suggesting we not tell anyone they're about to get wiped off the map? and it will be mass panic if we do, they'll make Transport evacuation impossible! Although there are some very obviously unhappy with it, the debate leans toward the logic of the latter, and a vote passing it is cast. Once it's confirmed that the moonbase is ready to begin supporting a population influx, it's decided that Transport relocation and supply shipments will begin immediately — and the decisions as to which Initiative employees will go with them are to be made at a later time. ]

[ The talk winds down, and someone near Saul and Medusa mutters to them, something along the lines of, I don't envy your job, telling everyone. Saul, already pissed and definitely having been on the "no" side of the voting, lunges for the guy — but is restrained by Medusa's hair. The view shifts again as the broadcaster lifts the camera from his pocket, turns it around to grin weakly into it. ]

Done and done, pals. It was the pen all along! Ha, told you I was a genius, noooo one feels like listening to poor old Sponde…

[ There's a quick raising of angry voices, but the feed ends and cuts them off. ]

[[ooc; Saul, Medusa, anyone else in DITR, and possibly the NPC will be responding to questions here, but also feel free to use this as a general IC discussion space!]]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

They have more than swords and arrows, Robb. They have guns. [ she has one too: found in the past and worked upon here to make it lighter and quicker. but she only has one. ] If it comes to a fight, they might get hurt.

I pray it does not come to that. [ he sighs, anger dissolving some. with him grey wind even calms down some. ]

[ she chews her lip. this is unfair. she never cared for the war and she never cared for the initiative but— ]

I have friends here.

[ in the city. people who won't know. people who can't be told. she glances at robb. it would be cruelty to tell them. ]

[ robb inhales, head hanging. all of this leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. as much as he wants to aid the people he knows he cannot save them all. ]

Forgive me, Arya.

[ he may not be able to do what she wishes. ]

[ the name still bothers her. she eyes the tablet. if it is on, everyone will have heard. she no longer fears the kindly man will hear. she's far away; she's done what she was taught; she has been no one so long she no longer remembers how to be someone.

robb remembers for her. he remembers the stupid little girl she was once. he doesn't know. she needs him on her side, she tells herself as she gets to her feet. she needs him pleased with her. ( wants him to be. a world away or a million robb stark's opinion is the only one that matters anymore. ) with brusco she was cat and pynto liked beth; robb knows arya so she winds her arms around his neck and rests her brow against his hair.

her chest aches. the hole she had thought to be finally closing pulses painfully, and she understands it never closed but was always hidden—as she is. he asks for forgiveness and she has none to give. not anymore. she cannot give him the sister he knew either; that girl died with dust swirling into her mouth and eyes while blood seeped into the steps of baelor's sept. she cannot even give him honesty. this is all she has left anymore and it feels inadequate for a king and a brother. ]

[ he readies himself for her anger, for the angry hissing of displeasure she usually responds to with the use of her name. but he gets silence. silence and her arms winding around his neck. it shocks him to silence, to stillness, for a moment that feels like it stretches on forever.

but then he warms his arms around her tightly and inhales. there have been moments, fleeting moments, when he thought he could see his sister shine through again. moments he thought she had come back. this, he feels, is another fleeting moment and he does not wish to let her go. if he does the moment may flee and she will become cold to him again.

she is his sister, no matter what she has done in order to survive the harshness of their home. that will never change, no matter what. ]

[ she remains in the embrace without complaint. her nose presses against the curve of his shoulder. she breathes in his smell of leather and wolves and steel and her chest aches more. but it is a good ache for once, good and terrible and never ending. ]

You will do right by us. [ she says because if nothing else she trusts that. so long as he remains, robb will do right by them. what happens after only the gods know. but so long as robb is here she can have faith even if she lost it in everything else long ago.

the statement is the closest she can get to forgiveness—it is the closest she can get to a confession. not death, not a false face could stop her loving him. ]

Edited 2013-10-14 06:14 (UTC)

Video, 10 AM on the 21st

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