spacedisaster | [ Inbox

[The days on the station are dragging, the bracelet clasped and locked around his wrist is a heavy reminder of the line Viveca and Degar has drawn in the sand - the line he crossed.

But time doesn't care, it moves and flows around him like always. The darkness that quivers at his fingertips, cover him from searching eyes as he walks the halls, as he sits in the sunlight room or when he steals in to the kitchen to find food.

Perhaps that's why he thinks of Peter, as he puts pickled herring on a piece of bread. As he butters it up, knife flashing silver in the kitchen lights.

Or it could be the tight squeeze of the pants he's wearing, the gift left by his door so many months ago.

Whatever it is that brings him to Peter's door late that night, is a mystery, but he comes baring a gift; a plate of bread, butter and a jar of spiced pickled herrings. For some reason, there was plenty left from the last batch he made here.

He raises his free hand, knocking twice on the door.]

[ The day after the Precursor's control over Newt was broken and things finally seemed to slow down, Peter dragged his sorry ass to his room, faceplanted in his bed, and was asleep within seconds. For the first time in weeks, he slept 12 hours, too tired to even have nightmares.

He is feeling a little bit more like a person today, but while his body feels better, his mind does not. Despite understanding that Newt didn't betray them on purpose, and not blaming him for what happened, the fact still hurt. And so did to realize that this might not be a one-time thing, and that very few people could be trusted. It makes Peter miss his family more, his team, and he's been keeping to himself more than before. Not to say he doesn't check on the other orbers to see how they are doing, or that he doesn't like visits.

Peter's curls are mussed and he's wearing comfortable clothes and no socks when he He opens the door to find Aleksander on the other side he opens the door to find Aleksander on the other side. The blonds brightens when he sees the other man, stepping aside and welcoming him into the room. ]

Ey. Hello there. [ After a second, Peter's eyes go to the pickled herring and he blinks in slight confusion a couple of times ]. Oh? Having a snack?

No?

[Walking in to the strangely cheery room, the walls covered with bright colors and a sense of home. Of being not merely a place for sleep, but somewhere where a man like Peter lives.

He stops just inside the door, watching before shaking his head.]

No. I made you a promise - that I would bring you fish. [He shoves the plate at Peter] This isn't the steamed delicacy of the train. But I did make it myself.

[ He takes a step back to welcome Aleksander inside, always happy to have company, even if he's been keeping to himself due to feeling down after the mission. ]

That's...oh. [ For a few moments, Peter can only stare, taken aback by the thoughtfulness of it all and taking the offered plate. To say that the last mission sucked was an understatement. So many things went on that it had never occurred to Peter that someone would care, or even remember, that he had been sad about not being able to enjoy the fancy food due to being arrested. ]

Thank you, Aleksander, It's really thoughtful of you. I can't wait to try it. [ His throat feels tight, but he gives Aleksander a grateful smile, and If his eyes are a little brighter now, he hopes the other man won't mention it. After taking a deep breath, Peter motions towards the room. ] But please make yourself comfortable. Can I get you a drink or something?

[With everything that happened on the train and the mission, Aleksander isn't feeling all that... in control, himself and Peter seemed like a harbor to find a sliver of shelter in. Somewhere without the demands of-- well.

Stepping past Peter in to the room, he finds a seat, hovering near it while resting a hand on the backrest.]

Do you have anything hard? I know that Kvas isn't easy to find here, but really. Anything would be absolutely fine right now.

[He doesn't mention the sheen of brightness in Peter's expressive eyes, and he turns away politely to watch the decor. The sense of someone living here is everywhere. Little touches that just screams 'Peter', his personality stamped across the barren walls of the station, a feeling of warmth that must come from the man who has lived here for months.] I do try to keep my promises, Peter. And-- I wanted to see you. How you were doing.

[ It has been not only a stressful mission because of how short and fast it was, but the repercussions of Newt's actions are still too fresh in everyone's mind. Some passengers got hurt or died, orbers got injured too, it was pure luck that the kaiju could be stopped at all. The more Peter thinks about what happened, the worse he feels, so drinking to forget for a little while seems like the best plan. ]

I do, in fact. I never tried Kvas, but I do have vodka and whiskey.

[ He keeps the bottles of hard liquor outside the mini fridge, those taste better at room temperature. Peter leaves the plate on top of the table, but grabs a small piece of bread to munch on as he goes to find the glasses, humming at teh taste. The pickled herrings look tasty, but he doesn't want to make a mess of things if they are going to drink, so he will taste them later once he finds a fork.

While Peter still looks tired, his mind reeling from the betrayal and the fight with Precursors-Newt, he gives Aleksander another smile as he motions for him to sit, no need to be shy or too polite. Once he does, Peter will take the seat across from him. ]

I know you are a man of your promise and I appreciate you being here, more than I can put in words. I really don't do well when left to my own devices. [ When Peter is alone, his thoughts wander to all the past mistakes and wrong decisions he's made. They don't make very good compay. The blond leaves two glasses and two bottles -one gold-colored and the other clear like water- on the table between them. ]

Pick your poison and tell me what troubles you too.

[It's a small consideration if he could just mix it all together in a tall glass and down it all before Peter had a chance to stop him, the bottles glistening in the light of the room. Light refracted in the glass, casting shattered shadows on the wall.

Slipping in to one of the seats, hand grabbing for the nearest bottle of alcohol, he lets his eyes rest on Peter's face. Seeing the tiredness and the weariness that clings to him.

What a saints-forsaken mission that was, and returning wasn't exactly better. It didn't feel as carthastic as the other ones.

Aleksander doesn't quite slump in his seat, but he's more relaxed than ramrod straight as he nods.]

It tastes a bit like your vodka. And yes, I tasted a lot of different bottles before finding that out.

[Served ice cold, or heated to lukewarm and still perfect for every occasion.]

No? What happens if you're left alone. [Taking a long swallow of the drink, the amber alcohol going down like burning velvet.] I really needed that.

[ If Aleksander wanted to try mixing the drinks, Peter would let him. The ensuing hangover the next day might be something to regret, alas. But perhaps powerful people like the Darkling don't suffer from such mundane things.

Peter rubs at the back of his head, fingers catching on the short curls there, while Aleksander looks at him. He returns the look with an understanding expression after seeing the man slumped on the chair. ]

It is better to be sure than to wonder. Some trials and errors are better than others. Vodka is always good to silence a troubled mind.

[ Peter grabs the available bottle after Aleksander has chosen his own, and fills his glass, but he doesn't drink straight away. ]

The worst that can happen. I think. [ The blond scrunches up his nose while offering a smile that is a bit on the side of a grimace. ] Do you know when you are minding your business and your brain decides to be an asshole and remind you of all the mistakes you've made in your life and all the bad things that have happened to you? That's it.

[ Time to drown his drink because he also needs this. By the time Peter puts the glass down, it's half full. ]

Cheer, my friend.

Is that what you look for in those bottles, Peter? Silence?

[He doesn't want silence, doesn't want yet another excuse to dwell on the things that he cannot change. The change that might as well be set in stone, doesn't want to see what he will have to give up to get his regret undone.

The temptation to change it.

It always lingers, just outside his waking hours, like a second heartbeat beating next to his own. It vibrates in his chest, a thrumming note of want and weakness.

But

He came here, he made food and offered it to someone who might be... not an enemy.]

Cheers. [And it flows down his throat like liquid fire.] I try to not think about my mistakes, but make steps to do better in the future. We cannot change the past, but we are the masters of our futures.

Sometimes. Usually, my music does the trick, and I prefer it over alcohol. Less problem the morning after. But drinking with a friend also soothes the soul, it's always better than being sad and alone.

[ Or being 'sad, alone AND drunk', which ends up doing more harm than good to his psyche and his liver. Peter's words are meant as appreciation for Aleksander's company, well aware that good, real friends are few and far between. The accident with Newt and the Precursors only made it more obvious how fragile are their relationships aboard the Ximilia. ]

Sounds like you have a much healthier way of handling things than I ever did. Perhaps it can be learned. 'Master of our future', I like that. I never really believed that the future is set in stone, things like destiny seem absurd. I like to have control over my own life.

[Healthy? Aleksander's eyebrow shoots up as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.]

I do what must be done. Why look back with regret, when it does nothing to help. [Except, like Peter, he was here. On the station and going through the missions, fulfilling his personal goals with near-religious fervor and he laughs, low and dark.] Except for the one that brought me here, obviously.

A master of your own destiny. I like the sounds of that- it sounds better than being left to the will of fate.

I like your music. It was very-- nice, the last time in the simulation room. Soothing a savage soul and all that. I've heard of it before, but I've never really liked music all that much.

[ Peter's response to the eyebrow gesture is to offer a helpless shoulder shrug. He's grown up around space pirates, jerks, and maniacs, all of them had terrible ways of coping with their problems. The Guardians are only marginally better at it. ]

See, that's a reasonable way of thinking. Alas, my brain and my conscience simply do it. It's not always bad, however, regret is a good teacher, if cruel.

[ The harder reasons are the ones that stick, for good or bad. The whole ordeal with Ego made Peter less willing to trust people easily, but being cautious has also helped him. And so on and so forth. When Aleksander mentions his regret, Peter doesn't ask what it is, simply raises his glass again and nods, understanding. ]

It does have a nice ring to it, doesn't it? We almost sound like a music band. I'm glad you liked the songs. There's always the right one for all of us, if we're patient enough to look for it.

[ It's something that could be applied to other life affairs, not just music, like finding the right partner, or a friend. And no, Peter's decide, he's going to find a way to copy his songs to a new music player and gift it to Aleksander. He will find a way. ]

[ Inbox | ximilia ]

Action - post mission, post Newt.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject