spam; the last journal post

[ukan]

[Getting on board was a moment of chaos. He remembers turning a corner, expecting to find fur and blood in his mouth, expecting maybe to get torn up in return, expecting maybe a bullet from above to take him down, too-

But instead he's somewhere metal, somewhere that smells of strangers and strangeness, and he's bleeding a trail but he runs for safety anyway. If there is any. If there are doors, anywhere, that he can open without changing back, because this has to be the FBI's work and so long as they think he's just a wolf, maybe they won't slit him open and poke around inside.]



[ooc: Lark is a wolf, for now. He'll have to change back sooner or later even if he doesn't want to, so feel free to tag him as human or wolf, just lemme know which.]

Comments

[bleak_midwinter]

[It's days after Lark's arrival that Tommy runs into him. He is on the deck, smoking as he looks out at the stars. The alien view is unsettling enough to be comfortable, different enough from his bedroom wall that he might start to believe he could sleep here safely.

To Lark, he will smell of sweet smoke underneath the harsh tang of nicotine- opium, even here, even if he only has a small supply.

He acknowledges the man with a glance, but doesn't straighten up-- if someone isn't a threat, you shouldn't treat them as such. And Tommy is not planning of giving Lark the impression that he is a threat to him.]

[ukan]

[Opium is not a common thing where Lark's from but it's something he's run across, dabbled in even as a hip designer-type drug back in his university days.

Another thing to tuck away about Tommy, then. Good.

He leans against the railing, much more comfortable with the queasy drop below them now that he knows what happens if you jump. Or are thrown.]

[bleak_midwinter]

[He smokes quietly until the cigarette threatens to burn his fingers, and he flicks it out into the sky. It burns for a second longer, and then goes abruptly dark, disintegrates into nothingness.]

You never told me your name.

[ukan]

Lark. What should I call you?

[It's a faux pas to ask for names among wolves; it's always 'what should I call you', on the assumption that the person you're talking to is probably hiding who they really were. Once turned, they almost all pick ironic canine names. Lark never has, but his name sounds fake enough that he didn't really need a fake one.]

[bleak_midwinter]

[He has no use for secrecy; not when it comes to this. He has lived for years with notoriety, fear at the mention of his name. Anger, sometimes. He is proud of his name and has made it a weapon as much as he can.

But he is no longer in Birmingham, no longer one of them Peaky Blinder devils. He doesn't need to intimidate Lark, and as such he doesn't need to give his full name.]

Tommy.

[Harmless little Tommy.]

[ukan]

[He nods, relaxing. Or appearing to.]

And what brings you to the Barge, Tommy?

[Let's play a game of honesty chicken.]

[bleak_midwinter]

A deal. [He straightens up a little, still not looking over at Lark.]

I'd ask you the same thing, but I think I know.

[ukan]

You don't.

[Calm, simple. The same way he'd inform someone that they need to check their math again.]

[bleak_midwinter]

[He lets out a soft breath, finally turns to face him.]

So what then, Lark, has brought you on this fantastic voyage?

[ukan]

The opportunity of a lifetime.

[Which is not a deal, but every bit as detailed as the answer Tommy gave, of course.]

No inmate yet?

[bleak_midwinter]

Give a man some time to settle in.

[ukan]

[He snorts faintly] If you settle in here, you'll never leave. Or haven't you had a good look at your senior coworkers yet? There are people still here from the last time I came aboard.

[bleak_midwinter]

[A small raise of the eybrows, then-- that, he hadn't expected.]

You were here before?

[ukan]

Mm. For about a year. [How long ago, he has no idea; the two timelines in his head refuse to mesh.] Why?

[bleak_midwinter]

Still learning the lay of the land. [Well- it is a little confusing, all of this. Who gets chosen, why do people leave before they graduate...]

[ukan]

It's exactly the same as I left it. The way people are, the sort of people we have. [Even Tommy, though he's not the typical Warden by a long shot.

Lark shifts, leaning on his side rather then fully facing the railing]

But even with all that, I don't think it's possible to really get to know this place. The Admiral either crash lands us or someone cracks from the pressure and attacks him- which never goes well.

[bleak_midwinter]

[Tommy turns to face him, arms crossed over his chest.]

So quick thinking, then.

[ukan]

[Lark is a long-range planner, personally, so that's his strategy for survival around here.] Among other things, yeah. But is there anywhere that quick thinking isn't a virtue? You have to assume everyone on board is used to doing just that, or they wouldn't be fit to be here.

[bleak_midwinter]

You've made quite the study of the people here.

[So has he-- it's not a reproach. Just one more bit of study.]

[ukan]

You know what they say. Fool me once, shame on you. Stab me in the back, shame on me.

[He suspects Tommy knows all about that sort of watchfulness]

You're obviously not wandering around here with the rose-coloured glasses some of your coworkers have. What have you noticed?

[bleak_midwinter]

Is that what they say? [He has to push down on the urge to light another cigarette, because it could be construed as nervous instead of just a craving-- and he doesn't want a man like Lark to have that on him.]

I've noticed that there's just as much violence in this prison as there is home.

[ukan]

It comes in waves. The violence is less constant here than where I'm from, but it tends to be more personal. The cost of living in a communal fishbowl.

[He breathes in night (or just space?) air, and gets a whiff of opium again.] I can never decide if poppies remind me of the Netherlands or of decay, more. We used to have men who dealt in that, you know. As well as some things stronger, some things milder. Or does the Admiral supply it nowadays?

[bleak_midwinter]

[He doesn't blanch, exactly, but he raises his eyes and meets Lark's, slowly but surely. His heart is beating in his chest as if he's a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Back home- yes, John knew, and Danny knew because Danny thought he was a shell and used the stuff himself.

It's a weakness, and more than the cigarettes he hadn't needed Lark to know about th is.]

I believe what the Admiral and I get up to is none of your business, Lark.

[ukan]

No one lives to be like you are if they believe other people's business is off limits.

[He gives him a sly look and leans a little closer, listening to the thump of Tommy's heart.]

I have a special interest in knowing where and how the Wardens are most likely to fuck up.

[bleak_midwinter]

[He doesn't look away, keeps eye contact and tilts his chin up- defiance, strength, whichever will get the message across. He's faced worse than this man. But his heart is taking its time slowing down.]

And now you think you've come to an understanding about me.