open/closed — is it really living if i'm just surviving?

[rescapee]

Who: La'an + others
What: Settling in, seeing unfamiliar faces, dealing with trauma, etc.
When: Late April & early May
Where: Milton area.

Content warnings: Talk of death, TBA. (Plus her usual warnings.)

Open and closed prompts below! Or leave her a starter if we've discussed it.

— open: meeting people around town ( x )
— closed to McCoy: visiting her grave ( x )

Comments

open — there's a monster under my bed

[rescapee]

i've been breaking out in cold sweats every night

[ Aren't you dead? The number of times she's heard a variation of those words is starting to affect her. They're wearing away at her nerves, revealing her frayed edges and hints of both anger and pain hidden beneath her usually professionally stoic mask. But there's no escaping it when another version of herself was trapped in this town for months, making efforts to keep this town safe and then dying in a way that left a profound impression on the people here.

So because there is no escaping her fate and avoiding it will only prolong her suffering until everyone has worked it out of their system, she makes efforts to be available to the people of the town. She takes walks around the town perimeter as often as the fog will allow. She visits the Community Hall to have a cup of rather terrible coffee. She stops by the General Store to take stock of their supplies.

And while she will never turn away from anyone who approaches her, as the days go by, it will be easier to see the weariness in her expression and the tense set of her shoulders. ]

Town Perimeter - CW Mentions of death.

[guidemyway]

[Ruby only visited Milton occasionally these days, but old habits died hard and she couldn't help but take a few patrols around the town while she was around. She's wrapped up pretty well to avoid any harm with the fog.

She sees La'an on the trip and Ruby has mixed feelings as she approaches. She's died and come back to life once herself- Or something like that. It was a complicated situation. She sees tension in La'an's shoulders and her own heart sinks a little.

She raises up a hand and waves cheerily to her. Maybe taking her mind off of that will help.]

Uh- Hey! Things all clear on your end of things?

[rescapee]

[ That cheery greeting is the last thing La'an expects to encounter during her patrol of the little town's perimeter. There have been so many here who have met her appearance with fear and apprehension that she's come to expect it, and for a moment she doesn't know what to do with something new. She stares at the young woman before lifting her hand in response, raising her voice as well to cross the distance as her footsteps follow behind. ]

All clear thus far. [ Her gloved hands adjust the large scarf around her neck and chin, ready to be pulled up against the fog at a moment's notice. ] And for you?

town perimeter!

[fidior]

[ By now, Edward understands that La'an's appearance is not a trick of this place. She's no apparition, no ghost conjured up to personally torment those haunted by the gruesome death of the woman those months ago.

He'd spoken to James Kirk some time ago, and he'd told Edward about meeting a different version of La'an back in his own world, and.... Edward has not clarified with anyone, but he's begun to realise this must be the case here and now.

It's.... strange, upsetting in a way he has never particularly faced (and in classic Edward Little fashion, he tries to keep his own turmoils buried deeply inside). But it's much harder to do that when he comes across her face to face again — he's doing one of his own patrols around the line of town, avoiding the fog as much as possible and taking brief breaks inside a building or shed if needed.

Edward halts, blinks, but manages to control the surprise well enough, reaching up to tip his cap politely to her. ] Lieutenant Noonien-Singh.

[ When he'd accompanied her back to the Community Center on her arrival, he'd been cautious not to ask any personal questions and certainly not bringing up her death, simply introducing himself and sharing various facts about the place that might be helpful — not knowing how else to handle what he'd assumed to be some trick of this place. But now that he knows she's real... There's some odd pull in the center of his chest; it was common to bump into La'an on his patrols, before. ]

Is everything looking well out here? No trouble?

[rescapee]

[ Seeing the first man she'd met in this place is conflicting, to say the least. He'd been kind to her, helping her find her way, but she had to wonder now what his reaction to seeing her really was. Had he known the other La'an who was here all those months ago? Had he been hiding his true feelings, or had she been too caught up in everything else to notice them without the additional context?

He's polite when they meet again, wearing that same old-fashioned coat she'd wondered about during their first meeting. There are people here from throughout time and space — is he from a time when that was the uniform? She has a dozen questions she wants to ask, her mind somehow anchoring itself to this poor man, but she sets them aside for pleasantries instead. ]

Lieutenant Little. [ She offers the greeting in return, cordial and a little hesitant. Her gloved hands are stuffed into the pockets of the dark coat she'd found in the piles of available clothing, and the grey scarf wrapped around her chin and neck is ready to be pulled up against the fog at a moment's notice. ] No trouble as of yet. Hopefully, things will stay quiet for the time being.

[fidior]

[ La'an — the La'an he knew before — was always a reserved sort of woman, a bit stern and perhaps a little intimidating to him to begin with, but her gestures had always spoken for themselves, and over time of interacting with her, he felt he was beginning to understand her a bit more. They'd never become close, but he'd enjoyed her company. Calm and quiet and reliable. She felt like someone that could be counted upon, and that meant... well, everything.

And she had also offered him, however unknowingly, a certain familiarity, too. Edward had needed it, that structure, that sort of strict adherence to rules and order. It was a relief to come across her on a patrol, and at times to join her. A fellow lieutenant, his only fellow lieutenant at the time. After losing.... everything, and finding himself in a place with no captain, no crew, no ship, La'an had given him something very particular that he'd never quite had the opportunity to thank her for.

He doesn't know if she is exactly the same in mannerism as the previous version of self had been, and certainly won't assume as much, but her quiet, somewhat guarded demeanour feels familiar. In any case, the report is a very welcomed reassurance, and he's offering a soft sigh of relief. ]

I am very glad to hear it. This place could use more moments of peace.

[ He almost smiles — a soft, wry thing, but there nonetheless, before he allows a polite curiosity as he looks to her. Yes, the previous La'an was often on patrol, but he won't assume that to be the case for her walking around now, either. Maybe she's searching for a particular building; it's easy to get turned around in the fog. Or maybe it's a simple walk. ]

Are you getting some fresh air, or seeking something out? I might be able to help.

Community Hall (cw: autopsy reference)

[bestsir]

Goodsir walks into the community hall one morning to see who's newly arrived—he missed the initial arrivals due to the fact that he'd been on his way back from Lakeside at the time, so now he's catching up.

When he sees La'an, he goes white as a sheet and actually stumbles, catching himself on the nearest chair to avoid falling over.

The last time he'd seen her, he'd been stitching up her corpse. Made notes about the condition of her heart, the contents of her stomach.

It's as bad as seeing Billy Gibson alive again.

[rescapee]

It's the stumble that catches her attention more than the man himself, though she immediately notices his pallor. Worry etches itself across her face as she approaches him, her steps purposefully quick. When she's within reach, she holds her hands out without actually touching him, ready to catch him should he actually topple over but still giving him space in case that's what he desires.

"I'm assuming you knew the La'an who was here before," she tells him quietly, her tone both gentle and practical. "You should sit until the shock passes. Can I get you something? Water? Tea?"

[bestsir]

His heart lurches in his chest as she approaches; he leans heavily on the chair back, but does not fall.

"I did. Know her," he says, his voice sounding half-choked. He sits with a thump, draws a deep breath. "I beg your pardon. Only—the last time I saw y—her, it was ... under very ill circumstances."

[heckofashot]

[ When she enters the community hall, there's no look of recognition on his face, no immediate reaction to seeing her walk in, just a tired nod and a quiet greeting. He takes a few minutes, but eventually he holds out a mug in her direction — coffee, though calling it that might be generous. At least it doesn't taste like ground dirt with the faint hint of radiation. ]

Hey… Are you alright?

[ She looks as rough as he feels, which… Yeah, arriving here can take its toll, and it isn't always an easy transition. Some people have it harder than others, he thinks, whatever they left behind sometimes drastically different from the frozen landscape of Milton and the surrounding areas. He pours himself some coffee, holds the mug in his hands more to warm them than anything else. ]

Apparently you'll get used to it… This place, I mean, [ a shrug. The way he says it implies he hasn't. ] The people here are good, though, for the most part.

[rescapee]

[ She accepts the mug with a murmured thank you, the heat blissfully seeping into her cold fingers and reminding her that it is possible to feel warm in this place. Rumor has it that it hasn't always been this bad here, that the fog has made it worse but it might not last forever, but it's hard to hold on to the hope of things getting better when everything else seems to be getting progressively worse. ]

I can tell. [ No one here has been unkind, at least. It's just been more of what she's used to, the constant stares and discomfort, but for very different reasons. He doesn't seem affected by her presence, though, so she asks the obvious question after tiredly taking a sip of the steaming coffee. ] Have you been here long?

[heckofashot]

[ Her response is a good sign — it means people have been doing right by her since she arrived, or so he hopes. Not everyone gets along, he knows that much, and he's not blind to some of the groups that have formed, they seemed to exist before he arrived though, and he's not about to try and worm his way in. ]

Eh, no, not really, [ he offers as an answer. ] Just around a couple of months? Arrived with a group sometime in February; just before everyone went to see what was in the mines, and before all this fog started.

[ Perhaps blessedly, he leaves out the fact he'd arrived around the time that creature had killed four of them. It had been grim arriving to that, and so the topic had been unavoidable. Maybe she's already heard of it, maybe not, but it's not something he thinks should be sprung on someone and discussed over coffee. ]

Perimeter

[solitarysoul]

[He saw La'an at the feast but hadn't gotten a good look at her due to everything happening. There were a lot of people, she probably just looked similar to the Darkwalker's first victim.

But when he comes across her while doing a patrol, much like how he first met the previous La'an, he's able to get a much better look at her. He stops, staring right at her for a moment before catching himself.]

L-La...

[He stops himself before finishing her name. If she was a new arrival she probably wouldn't want to be...what? compared to another her? Be asked how she was alive? Questioned about the Darkwalker and all of that? He's not sure, so he doesn't end up saying anything else, just sort of staring at her.]

[rescapee]

[ She's getting used to it now, or at least she's trying to convince herself that she is. The staring. The stammers. The fear and shock. It's more of the same of what she's experienced back home, just for different reasons. But people don't mean it personally here, at least.

Knowing that doesn't make it easier, though. With each new person she encounters, a little piece of her is chipped away, and it's difficult to hold on to them. Now is no exception, the young man before her struggling to speak. Stuffing her gloved hands into her pockets, she does her best to look non-threatening as she closes the distance between them, facing the situation head-on like most other things in her life. ]

I apologize for the shock. [ And she is, genuinely. ] I take it you knew the previous La'an?

[solitarysoul]

I...y-yeah. Sorry. I didn't mean to stare I just...uh

[Couldn't stop remembering the last time he'd seen 'her' she was being sewn back together after the autopsy. It's an uncomfortable awkward knowledge to know you've handled the insides of someone.]

...sorry. It's probably pretty annoying for you.

general store | cw: autopsy mention 🙃

[flambeaux]

Louis, ever the gentleman and businessman, pomades his hair and wears his tie on evenings he comes in to tend the store, fill the meat freezer, and sigh over how hard it is to scavenge supplies. It's nominally his, Marché du Lac, though he knows circumstance and opportunity could make it more of an indoor market. Imagine someone running a cafe inside it during the day--he could take a cut, of course--

His eyebrows shoot up at the sight of her. He never saw her alive. Her very dead body was being opened up and examined. He stayed through the whole thing, partly to learn what could be found, and partly because being surrounded by people was a comfort in the face of the Darkwalker's first attack.

Owing to the difference between an alive person and a dead one, he almost doesn't believe it's her. Louis looks queasy, not precisely at remembering the autopsy, but at seeing what should be dead risen. Ironic that a vampire should think he and his ilk should have the monopoly on cheating death. Any aberration that doesn't come from vampires sends a fear through him because it is unknown.

"We haven't met. Louis de Pointe du Lac, ma'am."

He has the bravery (or the temerity) to extend his hand. His nails are pointy, like an odd manicure, and his eyes are very green. His skin is cool, but a Southern man in northern climes is never going to fare well; he says he has bad circulation.

[rescapee]

Even though La'an has purposefully been putting herself in the path of others to deal with this situation sooner rather than later, she still holds onto hope each time she goes out that she might find people who don't look at her with fear or shock. It isn't hatred, at least, so these encounters aren't as difficult as those she dealt with back home, but they still wear away at her bit by bit.

So it's no surprise when the well-dressed man inside the market reacts to her appearance; she steels herself against it, straightening her spine and doing her best to prepare for whatever might come. She's experienced a range of reactions thus far, so it's impossible to say what she might face now.

An extended hand would not have been her first guess. She blinks at it, her surprise on full display, before she shakes it off and removes her glove to return the gesture. Her skin is cool as well, so she assumes his must be so from the pervasive cold that's descended with the strange fog, and she marks off the odd nails and vibrant eyes as what must be a choice of style and a genetic trait, respectively. In her time, such things are rather common, and all she can tell of him at first glance is he is from somewhere with the accent of what used to be the southern United States of America.

"Lieutenant La'an Noonien-Singh," she returns politely in smooth British tones, her grip firm but not uncomfortably so. "Though I suppose you likely knew that already, Mr. Du Lac."

She appreciates that he's still greeted her cordially despite the circumstances, but she sees no point in beating around the bush. Better to get things out in the open from the start.

[flambeaux]

Louis often reaches for how he was raised when in doubt, and that is the role of gentleman. He's seen his mother smooth over tensions at dinner with a carefully perfected wave of her hand and a few well-chosen words.

"So I heard. Mr. Fraser lamented he was not able to give you full military honors." In the event of her death. Because she died. She was buried. And now she's alive again. Louis is seized with the urge to go check her grave, but he refrains from voicing it. It would be unseemly to do, and he would likely be barred.

"You're quite famous now around town. How'd you manage the trick of comin' back?" he asks carefully.

[itio]

[ It's been a few days now since La'an has showed up, and to say that Jim has more or less been hovering like a cloud is putting it lightly. To his credit, he does try to give her some space, explore the area, get to know people (in some cases, getting to know them again, but sooner or later there he is again, checking up on her, making sure she hasn't vanished again, that she wasn't just another strange phenomenon of this place.

Must be a little how she feels, he thinks. Seeing him again after all that's happened.

At least she didn't seem opposed to sticking to the same place during the night. If anything, she was all too quick to agree to it, which is a relief. It's a good thing that Daisy's away, gone to Lakeside, so they have the house all to themselves. Makes it easier for them to talk, to have moments of privacy that he feels are much needed right now. And it gives her a respite from all the people recognizing her face, he thinks.

It's a little later in the day, though sometimes it's not always easier to tell. It does seem to be a little darker, but it could just be the weather or the fog making it look that way. They've managed to get a good fire going, and he's just finished heating up some basic soup, offering her a bowl before taking a seat on the couch next to her. ]

Here. A specialty of mine. [ He says with a smile, blowing on his own soup. ]

[rescapee]

[ Balancing the need to be near James with her need for independence and alone time has been... challenging, to put it mildly. She's been through enough therapy by now to recognize the signs of PTSD at work, and she's been stubbornly struggling through it each day since her arrival. Losing the people she's cared for time and again has left deep emotional scars, but she refuses to let that pain define her.

So, in an attempt to retain that sense of self, she's pushed herself to have as normal a routine as she carve out in this place. Of course, it's meant facing an entirely new type of trauma, but what's one more scar on her already battered psyche?

The smile she gives him is as warm as the soup, and might as well be an open window to her soul. This is who she really is — if only she felt like she could share this side with the others here. (She is trying, but it's so much easier said than done.) ]

I'm glad to see your cooking skills extend beyond the toilet. [ She's teasing him, a true sign of La'an Noonien-Singh's affection for someone. ] What other hidden talents do you have?

[itio]

[ At this point, any sense of normalcy seems like a rarity. A roof over his head, something to eat and a warm fire is probably as close as it gets, and it's scary to think that it could vanish at any moment. Or it would be, if Jim gave it real thought. He keeps busy instead, because it's easier; easier than to think how they're all so alone here, how he's never going to see his crew again, how he can't really fix what's happening here.

La'an's well-being is just another thing for him to pour his attention onto. He wouldn't wish for her to be stuck here, instead of her own world, but— well, it definitely beats being dead. ]

It helps when I have a working stove. [ A rudimentary stove, but it works. Probably one of the first things he learned how to use here. ] Well, you already know I'm a chess genius, and you've seen me use the Vulcan nerve pinch. At this point I feel like there's not much left.

[rescapee]

[ She worries about him. It's why she's trying so hard not to let him see the cracks that keep forming as this place presses down on her. He's dealing with so much, even if he doesn't let it show either, and she knows it isn't healthy for either of them, but if this is what it takes to survive here...

No, that's not really a good excuse, either. They need to talk, really talk, but it's hard not to dread it when things are going so well for them right now. Sure, they're each trapped away from people they care about and worlds that make sense, but together again. ]

I'm sure there's something that will come out eventually.

closed to mccoy — all the walls, they're paper-thin

[rescapee]

but i feel i'm closing in, can you make it right?

[ How many days has she been here now? They're running together, the disorienting daylight and fog combining with everything else to throw her completely off-balance. It's been a struggle to keep her focused professionalism in place while dealing with the stares and fear in people's eyes, but she's faced it all with her usual determination.

Well, not all. There's one thing she hasn't managed yet. But it's time. She can't keep putting it off any longer.

Making her way slowly through the small cemetery attached to the church, it doesn't take long to find the markers that stand out among the rest. Carefully, she brushes snow from each, until finally— ]

La'an Noonien-Singh
Loyal Friend, Bold Explorer
& Steadfast Protector
Sic itur ad astra


[ Something tightens in her chest and she can only stare at those words carved into the wooden marker, her stoic mask beginning to slip and show the distress etched beneath. ]

[homeostatic]

( Hers is a lonely figure in the shifting fog, catching his eye as he walks up the path toward the church. He hasn't come around this way much, accustomed as he is to holding his spiritual beliefs close to heart, no church required, and he slows as he comes nearer to what passes for the cemetery gate.

Maybe she'd like to be left alone. It's the first thought that comes to mind, the one that makes him hesitate. In their colorless surroundings, her reddening face is like a small sun, a glimpse of anguish, maybe, and that makes him forget any notion to let her be. )

La'an?

( McCoy calls quietly, just so he won't spook her as he wends his way among the markers toward her. )

[rescapee]

[ Turning at the voice, La'an only just manages not to wince at the man's sudden appearance. Of course, someone would come along while she's struggling like this. It would be too much to hope that the fog might conceal her long enough for the moment to pass without witness. And of course, it would be the only other Starfleet officer trapped here, someone she's tried to project a certain image of herself to. That projection of a strong, competent woman shouldn't be altered by this display of emotion, but still she worries that he might question her capabilities or, worse, discover her weaknesses. ]

Sir.

[ She should compose herself, stand at attention instead of hunching in on herself, but... she doesn't care. He's a superior officer and she should show proper deference, but she just doesn't care. Something is being carved out inside her and she can't bring herself to follow the rules and rituals demanded by rank. ]