[CLOSED]

[uptightness]

Who: Washington and Carolina
What: Carolina has a memento
Where: The residence they reside at
When: Present
Warnings: Other than possibly feels, nothing triggering

[For such a small picture, it does feel rather heavy in her hands as she stares down at it, like she shouldn't have a memory of times that had been happier. It is bitter sweet, as she can cross off names, one by one, of the people within the picture, list off where they are now, and it's not a friendly reminder. Arguably, all of them had been better than her, had deserved better, but it's her that's standing here today, looking at it with such an intensity that she could well set it on fire.

Yet at the same time, they had all once been her family, before she had lost sight of it.

The lighter next to her bed had been all that she physically had left from York, add the armour and it's all that she's had left from Freelancer. She remembers hitting York for slinging his arm around her like that, but she'd give anything to be able to have him do that again. It's almost ironic that this picture is one of the things that had survived. Not them returning from a mission, or something more academic. No, it has to be this, something more personal and less formal, something that she would have torn up once had she found it, shredding it in to a million little pieces. Now though... There's starting over and moving on, but not at the expense of the past. That's still something that she's coming to terms with, the reality of how to live with that knowledge and balance the two out.

Maybe she never will get the mix right. Heck, she's not exactly the poster child for anything, or at least anything she would want to be a poster child for. A part of her does question why this picture, why here, and just how the man had been able to track her down and return it. It's that little voice, beneath the ocean of doubts, that tells her not to question it, but rather to cherish it. That of all the things, this isn't one that she needs to dig further in to, that she can just have it.]

Comments

[hardwearing]

[ Wash is only just recovered from his ordeal with paranoia flu, which hit him harder than most. First because he's so unused to being sick, and then because... well... fact of it is, he's pretty damn paranoid to begin with. Having a Hadriel effect that amplified that really sent him off the rails and he knows he was difficult, to say the least. He's getting back into his routine now, though, and trying to internalize the objective fact that no one blames him for going nuts. Because they don't. It's just hard to feel like it wasn't on him, at least a little.

None of them had seen when he was truly insane after Freelancer fell apart, and he's hoping they never do. It's strange that Ephemera and Kyna have thanks to this place, to the dream-memories they got to wander through, but he's actually sort of grateful for that now. That even if his friends can't understand, someone could last week when this new thing was happening. Really knew why he was so scared. It's easier to bounce back from. He's still a little awkward around Carolina, who saw him compromised without that background knowledge.

Time to nip that in the bud, honestly. Wash has just come back from a run and hopped straight into the shower, and when he heads back to his room to dress he notices her door is open. Now works. He pulls on a change of clothes and combs his damp hair into some semblance of order, then goes to see her. She's sitting with something in her hands that's taking all of her focus, and he's actually standing in the doorway for a few moments waiting to be noticed before realizing how absorbed she is. Huh. Okay, he'll give a little knock. ]

Hey, Carolina, can we--

[ Her grip shifts as she looks up at him, and he can see what she's holding. A photograph. One that even at this distance, features armored figures he recognizes. She hasn't invited him in yet but he's overtaken by curiosity and steps forward anyway, coming to sit beside her and peer at it. It's not a picture he's ever seen before -- he wasn't close to anyone in it, after all, and it was probably before his time entirely -- but he does know them. Illinois, he thinks the guy in the front is, one who hadn't made the top ranks but still hung around the older soldiers fairly often. North flashing the camera a greeting, Wyoming at the bar. And then what Carolina was probably looking at, herself and York sitting in the center, York's arm affectionately around her shoulders. It's not surprising in the least; York had loved her intensely, everyone knew it. The guy was as subtle as a punch to the face and Wash himself had suspected even then that Carolina felt something back. Hadn't known more details of things until much later, but... he's surprised there's photographic evidence of affection between them. As he glances up now he spots the lighter on the nightstand, and his expression shifts from the resolve he walked in with to something softer. His voice gentles as well, and he smiles just the tiniest amount to keep things light. Barely a curve of his lips, but it's there. ]

You let him get away with that?

[uptightness]

[Showing weakness is not something that comes easily and in fact, she would go as far to avoid it as possible. It's more troublesome when it isn't something that can be controlled as there is no enemy to fight, no knife wound to the leg that needs time and first aid. She likes to be at the top of her game, although there are times when she's not as focused or alert, her interests diverted, like today. It's not a battle that she's fighting, no tactics that need coming up with. At the moment, it's quiet enough, not that Carolina assumes it will remain that way, but it's not the end of the world when he spooks her out of her reverie. A sharp jerk of her head, a blink of her eyes, before her gaze focuses on him.

It's good to see him better, or starting to get better as the tenseness eases from her shoulders. He'd been hit pretty hard, possibly the hardest out of their little group, which she isn't certain if that is by accident or by design. There's not much of this place that she is certain about, other than she needs to keep diligent and aware. The days at the arena are one thing, but these others are something completely different. The picture is forgotten for a moment, a look of concern flashing over her face, wondering if something else has happened, but as she scans his face, she doesn't note anything overly pressing on it. No look of distress, although perhaps a touch of purpose?

It's then that she realizes that he is looking at. He has seen it before, but that's not something that he actually knows, yet. They'd had a conversation about it, about past and present, about Freelancer and how she had known the things that she had known. It's not that it bothers her to hash it out again, and his comment does earn a rough low scoff from her. She can recall her answer that she gave before as her eyes turn back to the image. There might be a flash of softness there, momentarily and fleeting, before it's gone, and she hands the photograph in his direction so that Wash can get a better look.]

Another five minutes, and the picture would have shown a whole different story.

[Her focus now on him, she cocks her head a little to the side. There's clearly nothing on fire, no one injured or dying, or hopefully doing something that is going to come back and bite them in the ass. Tucker's seemed to settled down and understood the seriousness of the situation.]