littlebattles | IC contact for lastvoyages

[Normally, Tesla wouldn't literally track his inmate down like this. Especially not with a temporary pairing. But he does like to know who he's actually responsible, and given that reaching out over the network hasn't returned so much as the slightest response he doesn't really have a whole lot of other options.

He doesn't really know what to expect when he actually tracks her down, mind, but he's persistent, if nothing else, and that will have to do.]

[From here.

June will show up as promised! She may already be there when Aloy arrives, leaning against the Enclosure door; otherwise, she'll walk up not long after.]

I hope you don't mind those clothes getting wet.

[Like she had with Aloy, she'll arrive on time, either right before or right after Hange herself shows up.]

Have you ever sailed before?

[A few days after he yelled at her and stormed out of her cabin, with her file, Thomas sends her a message:]

Are you free to meet?

Hey. [ The voice is soft and thoughtful—a little preoccupied. He hadn't known how to approach this, had watched her network confession over again and still been at a loss. He can't present himself as safe or trustworthy: he isn't.

Straightforward it is. ] This is William, Harry Goodsir's former inmate. I'd like to meet and talk when you have time. Somewhere private.

[ Meaning not on the network. ]

[In early March, Thomas sends her a message.]

Will you be free in the next couple of days? I wanted to talk to you about some things.

[From here.]

I'd feel better on a minimum security prison Barge, but nobody's going to give me that option.

[From here.]

Like sleep paralysis?

No. Panic attacks, yes.

I am sorry I didn't contact you sooner. Are you all right?

[Tess sure did waffle on this one. As far as Tess is aware, no one in the history of the planet has gotten an apology for infection prior to this incident, and the enormity of that thought still just barely comes out on top of how shitty it feels to apologize for something she had no control over.

Living like it never happened might feel shittier, though.]

You alright?

[ He's thought a little bit about what to say. Between her leaving him for dead and Steve Rogers turning around and doing the same thing to the whole fucking boat, the faith he'd had in inmates, in their willingness to look out for each other, has taken a hit.

So he launches into what happened, exactly what happened—both because she should know and because he wants her to feel like shit. ] I almost made it to Misty. [ He says, his voice measured, thoughtful. It's different from other memories—sharper in hindsight, but also remote. He remembers impulses that never went anywhere, terror and seething anger that couldn't so much as twitch a finger. Remembers at the same time his legs moving of their own accord. His face contorting, reshaping. ]

That knife you saw me with [ the blade long and clean, the sheath carefully stitched ] was from her, a gift.

I got to the elevator. I, uh, by then I had to slam my whole body into the button. I was scared—one of those things, you know, where you obsess over some minuscule detail—I was scared I wouldn't... [ He stops. Composes the thought. Speaks clearly. ] I wouldn't have the control to press the right button. I couldn't think of anything worse.

But I did it. Second floor.

When the doors opened, I couldn't move. And then they closed, and the lights went out. I— [ He can't, or doesn't want to, wrap his mind around that feeling—alone in the dark, hearing the far-off groans of the elevator without comprehending them. Body no longer his own, thoughts errant blips. ]

She found me. Somehow it was her. She killed me before I could get to anyone else. [ A sigh escapes him—maybe too soft for the communicator. He goes silent a long moment, and when he speaks again it's more direct, more certain. ]

We could've stopped her. Tess, I mean.

IC contact for lastvoyages

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