TO EVERYONE

[princessvegas]

[ In her domain, Julie sits in a booth, bent over the table with a stack of paper and pen. She bites the tip of her tongue in concentration, then starts writing invitations. She intends to leave them all over the Horizon, fliers more than proper addressed invites.

Soon, all of the off-worlders are able to see writing in their vision. This writing appears to simply be written on any nearby surface: a tabletop, on the page of a book in place of the text, in a pool of water. It sparkles to summon attention to itself, just enough of a twinkle to earn a glance. ]



[ It's signed at the bottom, Julie Lawry.

Soon, other thoughts may begin appearing in your vision, sparkling until they catch your eye. Your own thoughts can be broadcast too. If you put in a little effort, you can even send them directly to a specific person, or a group.

And most of you are welcome to the party. ]

Comments

rip

[falcony]

[ the thing is - sam is quite used to asking people what is wrong. he's just as used to being ignored, when he does. or having to try and coax out bits and pieces of what makes up the stories of their lives over the course of their time together. and yes, he knew that everyone is different - clocked julie as not being one of the types to keep quiet and keep things close to the vest, if given the opportunity. but the fact she just opens up is...well in a weird way, kind of refreshing.

sam listens - his brow still furrowed, he frown deepening marginally, as she continues to pain the picture of what she left behind. it's sick, really - thinking about how the world can come to that, how sam isn't all that surprised to hear how the government handled things, what they turned it all into. he could argue, could try and press further into his reasonings for why he's trying, with marlo. why it's always worth trying, even when everything feels so overwhelmingly and unquestionably over. but he's been here, been through enough of this, to know there's very little use for that.

julie has no reason to believe a government body would do anything to help her, and sam doesn't blame her for that stance in the least. if anything, he feels a kind of anger on her behalf - of the hell she lived through, on the way she clawed her way to where she was. las vegas, in the midst of the end of the world.

there are tears in her eyes and on her cheeks when she finally comes to a kind of stop, her body tense and her breathing shallow. her arms fall to her sides, her gesturing done and over with, and sam lets her finish - all the way to the end. all the way through that broken, desperate question. and then, once she's had time to say it, he moves - not suddenly, exactly, but without hesitation - to lean forward and wrap his arms around her neck. to pull her close and tight for a hug. when he does finally speak, it's into her shoulder, or the side of her hair, because for as long as she doesn't pull away from him he's going to hold her in the hug. ]

I'm sorry, Julie. You've been through hell and back, and you shouldn't have had to. [ it's unimaginable, really, but sam doesn't think focusing on it will help. doesn't think she wants to hear, in this moment, about how strong she is, or what she's been through to get here. sam will apologize, for the fates or the world or whoever else owes her one, and then give her a squeeze. just one, where he holds her just a bit tighter, as his voice remains firm as he continues. ]

And you don't have to go anywhere you don't want to- you can stay here, or you can come back with me, or go wherever you want. No one is going to make you do anything you don't want to, and we will figure this out, one way or another, stupid rock or not.

[princessvegas]

[ Some part of Julie is actually surprised he lets her finish. People have a tendency to ignore her at her most desperate, she's found, and those that don't completely disregard her don't have the mental bandwidth for her problems anyway. When every single person in the world has experienced almost identical trauma, then no one person's trauma is worth dealing with.

Sam hugs her and it's the first time she can remember being held for reassurance in years. Nothing behind it, nothing to gain. She shakes in his arms, and then he says he's sorry, sorry, and she realizes that no one has ever said that to her. Survivors don't say that to each other, and everyone she's told here has just given a vague platitude of sympathy. That sucks, and yeah, it does, and yeah, none of these people had anything to do with it, but there is something so comforting in just hearing someone say out loud that she didn't deserve everything that happened. An acknowledgment that she had suffered.

She sobs once against his shoulder, gasps. It's just been held in too long, that same way that a single person asking if you're all right when you're faking it can make you crack. Her fingers curl in the fabric of his shirt at his sides, where she can't make her arms lift all the way. Her whisper is hoarse. ]

I just want them to leave us alone. All of us.

[falcony]

[ she sobs, and sam simply holds it - lets his hand rub reassuringly against her back, letting her shake a bit under his arms. he can only imagine what it is she's dealing with, how trauma to that degree builds and builds until the body, quite literally, can't hold on to it. there is a good while here where sam doesn't say anything at all and just lets her work through it.

there is solid validity to a good cry, and sam has a feeling that even if julie has or hasn't had one, he doubts she's had one in any way feeling safe. or maybe not even safe, but reassured. her voice is hoarse when she speaks, and her fingers are at his sides, curled into the fabric of his shirt, and leans his face against the side of her hair. ]

I know. [ he offers, which isn't much but hopefully - in this moment - enough. ] They probably won't, but we can always keep trying. [ he squeezes her again, before letting go - not going far, but pulling back enough to get his hands on her shoulders, to get a look at her face. he really doesn't care the state she may or may not be in, because this is more for her to see him. how serious he is, how genuine, how much he means it when he says- ] Nothing's going to happen to you, Julie. Not if I have anything to say about it.

[princessvegas]

[ It takes her a minute to catch her breath, and she suddenly feels incredibly small and stupid. She hates feeling anything bad, and right now, she feels so much that's so bad. It doesn't occur to her that maybe it's because no one in her entire life has ever really cared about how she was feeling, never taught her to deal with it in any way except covering it up or lashing out. Or that maybe there is something to be said for having a man care about her without expecting something in exchange. Maybe she just forgot that there are people out there who actually can be trusted, who you don't have to approach with a shotgun and the assumption that they're going to hurt you. Who you don't have to step on just to have some leverage.

Sniffling, she wipes her eyes, rimmed in red and still watering as she looks at him. She nods and swallows hard, and her voice is still soft and weak. ]

Can I just stay here for a little bit? With you?

[falcony]

[ he can only assume what’s going through her head, at this point. can only assume what it is she’s carrying with her that doesn’t come to light. either way, sam knows he can be here for her, for this. it gives him a sudden feeling of hope that there is something he can help with. even if he’s not getting anyone home, he can at least do this.

so when she nods and wipes away at her eyes, sam smiles. it’s soft, and warm, and welcoming - everything he remembers from his mother, his parents. he doesn’t pull away, squeezes her shoulders instead. ] Absolutely. Hell, you can stay here as long as you want. Who needs a little while? [ one of his hands let’s go of her shoulder and comes up to cup the side of her face, just for a moment, before he leans forward and sets a gentle kiss to the top of her hair as he lifts to stand - a quick, gentle thing. reassuring. comforting, at least he hopes. ]

We’ve got comfy clothes and a couch with a tv full of bad movies and whatever the hell we want to pretend up in this kitchen. Who knows what we might get up to.

[princessvegas]

[ She laughs a little, looks down at herself, and it clicks that she also doesn't remember the last time she let herself be just comfortable. Captain Trips, the walk, Vegas, Abraxas -- none of it lent itself well to any kind of self-care or relaxation, and even if they did, she's the kind of person whose chosen post-apocalypse clothing choices involved a prom dress and fur jacket. And perhaps Sam hasn't noticed, but the clothing available to women in Abraxas is not... super comfy. Lots of layers and things to lace up.

Thinking for a second, she tries to come up with the last time she felt in any way as comforted as Sam has made her, and within seconds, a box manifests on the table next to her. God, she'd totally forgotten... She picks it up and shows it to him. ]

Brownies?

[falcony]

[ if she wanted, sam had rooms and closets full of every form of comfortable clothing imaginable. it doesn't even matter that she could change her own outfit on a whim. it the principle of the matter, if she wanted to head upstairs and put on sweats, she could.

still, when the box appears on the table next to her, sam's eyes go to it, curious. her offering has him smiling, one brow arched. ]

Brownies? [ and then he laugh, shrugging once and reaching for one. ] Why the hell not?

[princessvegas]

[ When he looks back at her, the shiny, sheer dress is gone, replaced by a matching set of sweats in rainbow tie-dye with little stars dotting the fabric, towering stilettos swapped for fluffy shearling slippers (she's definitely shrunk a few inches). It's not an outfit that comes from nowhere -- it's a nicer recreation of something she remembers wearing in high school, the last time she could remember wearing something meant only to feel good rather than look good, and it was mostly subconsciously manifested. Even her makeup has changed, all the obvious glitter and color gone.

Taking the box, she confidently walks over to the cabinets and begins searching for a bowl. ]

Brownie batter. Tell me your world has Breakfast Club. I might lose my damn mind if you never saw it before.