september 2019. welcome to the void.

[modblob]

Who: Everyone in Anchor.
What: Third Introductory Mingle
When: The Month of September 2019
Where: Around and outside the city.
Warnings: Please add any warnings in the subject lines.

Redshift: Welcome to the v͖͕̺̲̘̱̜͎o̴̦̣̠̦̘̹͞i̯̖d̛̪̬͈̱̦̝͍̕.

Click here to read what characters will experience when arriving in Anchor.

a. turrets.

That power surge kicked off some sh... stuff, all right. It took a while for the systems to cycle back on, but two new areas of Anchor are now accessible and usable. One of them is nice and relaxing and safe, and we'll get to that one in a minute. The other one, addressed first, is not very nice and not very relaxing and definitely not safe.

The internal defense systems on the upper levels have come to life, and have targeted anyone within their range as a hostile entity. Get ready to run the gauntlet if you want to turn them off - you'll have to dodge lasers, bullets, and aggressive defense bots (that can be rewired and/or rebooted to assist characters instead of trying to murder them). The reward? Getting to the heavily protected (think many many murderbots and lasers) security control room. If you can make it, you'll be able to reboot the internal defenses, turning off the aggressive targeting and having access for the first time to surveillance of almost all of Anchor. Those areas your characters didn't know were there? Revealed. Those dense patches of jungle-like growth in the agricultural center? You've got a spotlight into their heart.

Though, huh, not all the cameras seem to be working. What's with those screens that show up from time to time that are nothing but static?

Oh well, doesn't really matter, does it?

b. hot springs episode.

One of the areas adjacent to the bar and intimacy lounge has been sputtering on and off ever since the power surge. One evening, with a loud crack and a humming sound that slowly dissipates, the lights come on and water starts flowing down the artificial waterfall into the fountain out front. The spa is back online!

The lobby is inviting and zen, with holographic walls that depict scenic locations (some of them very unlike Earth), with fountains splashing delicately on either side of the door. The attendants are slightly malfunctioning bots, but the most harm they'll do is bring you six towels when you ask for one, or a bucket of massage oil to work on those knots in your back with.

There are three areas in the spa, each of them fully-outfitted with towels, robes of all sizes, fuzzy slippers, the works. One has all the amenities of a Turkish bath, right down to the fantastically arched roofs and mosaics of Istanbul. One is designed not unlike a Japanese hot spring, though the spring is heated artificially rather than naturally. The springs are large enough to be communal in some areas and small enough to be private in others, varying in depth from deep enough to swim on one end and shallow enough to sit on the bottom on the other. All hot springs have a stone shelf around the edges where those who don't want to swim can sit. The last area is more Western, with steam rooms, saunas, massage tables, and mud baths for the adventurous.

One thing all of these areas have in common: the settings on virtually everything can be adjusted to taste. Not in the traditional way, either. The steams and waters can be tweaked to be soporific, can serve as muscle relaxants, can ease anxiety, and can even bolster moods. None of these effects are involuntary, and none of them are brought on by drugs - it's more an advanced mix of pheromones and harmless compounds that can affect a single person or a given pool or room. Also, the baths and hot springs have adjustable bubble settings. The water colors can change, some of them even allowing characters to dye their hair the color that's been selected for the tub without staining their skin. Bubbles of all kinds can rise up out of the water, from the foamy comfort of childhood bubble baths to hovering golden bubbles that chime when you pop them. Characters can choose from a variety of bath salts, scents, and oils - the spas were designed not just for relaxation, but for pure and simple fun.

c. joe's dirt.

So you've survived the security malfunction. You've washed off the dirt and anxiety at the spa. But the newly reactivated security stations throughout Anchor have revealed something odd. There's a blip in the power systems in one area of the agricultural level, like something is siphoning off power from the main lines. Tracking down the source in the deep tangle of underbrush won't be easy, and there may be a few mutated, fanged, clawed cattle that maneuver shockingly well between the trees, but eventually you'll come to a breach in Anchor's wall. At first it just looks like a crack, but it's large enough to squeeze through and there's the darkness of an open space behind it. A tunnel, leading down into the earth outside, well below surface level and thus largely safe.
Wires run along the roof and floor, though the tunnel itself is dark. Walk long enough and you'll come to a wider space, open enough for two or three people to move around comfortably at the same time. It's still dark, lit only by screens that show the same security feeds that are available at the stations throughout the city. And others. Angles on the surface that show Anchor from a distance, and other visuals that don't show Anchor at all, trained instead on massive structures or formations or lakes out on the surface somewhere. But there's something more disturbing: there are cameras set to record some people's rooms. And the only rooms that are shown are occupied.

Someone has been here, recently enough to track where new people have moved in.

On the floor in one corner, there's a crumpled photograph of a man some might recognize as Creepy Joe, happy and whole, with a little girl sitting on his shoulder. It looks like it's been stamped into the dirt.

Navigation.

Comments

[sleepyhollowed]

[Kieran offers a soft, confirming grunt at Ben's assertion. He'd started growing up the moment that his parents became ill in the first place and it fell on him to take care of them in their final days. It isn't anything that he's particularly fond of talking about, but it's also something that he knows he's not alone in. It was a harsh reality of his time, but kids were forced to bury their parents at a young age pretty often--and, perhaps even worse, the reverse was true.]

[He doesn't have time to dwell on those thoughts. Not when Ben is sharing his, and when he's so gosh darn encouraging while doing so. Kieran returns the smile, genuinely, and then brings his attention back to the lesson.]

[Kieran narrows his eyes--he's seen the word plenty of times before, on the sides of stables and in general stores...]

[...annnnd that smile from just a few moments before turns into a full-fledged grin. Kieran chuckles.]

Horse!

[It almost feels like cheating, taking what he's already known, but at the same time, that's how you learn, right?]

Can I try writin' it?

[benhargreeves]

[ Well, okay, Ben should've guessed Kieran could recognize at least a couple words and that would definitely be one of them. But he doesn't regret it, when Kieran is grinning like that, feeling amused and pleased and confident in himself. ]

Absolutely.

[ He hands over the pen, making an encouraging gesture for Kieran to write it out. And hey, he has some advantages, when it comes to learning to write letters - he's not a kid anymore, so he's better at the whole fine motor control thing. ]

Any other words you know already? I want to come up with a mental list.

[sleepyhollowed]

That's a good question.

[Kieran slowly copies each letter, doing his best to mimic the way that Ben originally wrote them. Fine motor control notwithstanding, it's its own kind of nervewracking as he tries to do things just write right.]

[His lines are shaky and not entirely even, but it's a decent start.]

I mean, uh, I don't really know what I know or what I don't know. But, uh, if ya write somethin' down and I know what it is already, I'll make sure to letcha know.

[benhargreeves]

Hey, your handwriting's already better than my brother's, so you're well on your way.

[ Of course Kieran is being much more slow and deliberate about it, but who cares? He doesn't specify which brother, either, or how just many brothers he has in the first place. The point is to be encouraging and drag his siblings a little too. ]

Alright, that's fair. We'll just figure out as we go.

[ And over the next few minutes, he takes Kieran through some basic vocabulary - the common pronouns, some basic verbs, a few nouns that are relevant in the Anchor. A few of them, Kieran recognizes, and others he doesn't. Once enough time has passed, Ben puts the cap back on the pen and says: ]

Okay. That's enough for a little bit, time to take a break. You want something to eat?

[ He knows that Kieran can't absorb everything all at once, that it's important to give him a little time to digest. Might as well spend that time, well, actually digesting. And besides... he wants to talk a bit more. Get to know this new friend of his.

As he's getting up to poke in the cupboards for food to share, he asks: ]

How's our glowing friend settling in, by the way?

[ Referring, of course, to the horse that had brought them together that very first time, that Kieran had said he would work with. ]

[sleepyhollowed]

[Kieran may be an only child, but he can tell when someone's sibling's getting dragged. He can also figure that said sibling (usually) deserves it. No matter what, he's not about to question or contest the idea. Ben's a nice enough guy--if he's shit-talking his brother, then he must deserve it.]

[When Ben calls the lesson, Kieran sits back in his chair, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands as if trying to reset them. His mind feels like it's full of bees, busy and buzzing around in his brain, making it hard to focus on anything other than the fact that food sounds wonderful right now.]

[So he nods when Ben asks if he'd like to share something, and then slowly clears off the table. A mindless task is a welcome distraction for his pent up nervous energy; a way to decompress after all that learning.]

[The same can be said with talking about something he already knows.]

Who, Eavan? She's doin' great! I think she'll be ready fer a real bridle soon. I gotta find some leather to scrap together a saddle fer her, though.

[Wait, that may need some explanation.]

When, uh, when you ride a horse, you should use a saddle instead of goin' bareback whenever you can. It's better fer the horse and the rider.

[benhargreeves]

[ He pulls down some bread, gets a few eggs from the small fridge. The kitchen here is limited and so is Ben's cooking experience, but he can definitely do eggs and toast. The eggs might not be from a conventional chicken and the bread was scrounged from the somewhat dodgy mess hall but Kieran is living here the same as he is, he knows about the limited resources.

Then he mentions wanting to make a saddle, and needing leather for it, and it's like a lightbulb comes on over Ben's head. He whirls aronud. ]

Actually, hang on.

[ Ben's face lights up with a sudden smile, and he holds up a finger in a gesture that indicates Kieran should stay where he is and wait. Then he darts off, into the bedrooms of the little dorm-style suite. A few moments pass in silence and then Ben is returning triumphantly, brandishing a rather long leather skirt with a fringe. He holds it out to Kieran, clearly wanting him to take it. ]

I checked, it's real leather, not fake, and I know supplies and stuff can be hard to come by in this place. It's my brother's but he stole it from my sister and he never wears it anymore so he won't mind, trust me.

[ RIP Allison's skirt but it's gonna be... some part of a saddle, now. Ben doesn't know how saddles work but he helped?? Maybe?? ]

How come a saddle is better for the horse?

[ He can see how it would be more comfortable for a human but he doesn't get it vice versa. And he's been doing all the teaching, here. Nice to remind Kieran he's quite knowledgeable about a lot of stuff Ben doesn't know a single thing about. ]

[sleepyhollowed]

[Kieran gladly takes the skirt and... actually, you know what, no. He doesn't ask any questions. Leather is leather, and he has a feeling if he digs deeper into this skirt's dubious history, he's going to learn a lot more about Ben's family than he needs to. For now, at least.]

Thanks! This is gonna help out a bunch. Should be enough leather here for the seat and the fenders. Maybe the stirrups, too.

[He folds the skirt up and places it on his lap, playing with the material to check for its pliability.]

The saddle helps make sure the rider doesn't bounce all over the horse's back. If yer not experienced enough, it's hard to stay in the center. Then yer weight can throw the horse off balance and it's a bad time fer both of ya.

[It's nice, honestly, to be able to talk about something that's old hat to him. Cathartic, even.]

Plus when yer ridin', yer usually doin' a lot of postin'--that's uh, that's a fancy way of sayin' bouncin' up and down along with the horse's stride. If yer doin' it right, then yer gonna make the ride a lot smoother. The saddle helps with that, too.

[benhargreeves]

[ Ben listens as he's cracking the eggs into the pan, and he knows what a fender is when it's on a car, but he's got no clue what it might be in the context of a saddle. Instead of interrupting to ask, though, he just listens while Kieran talks. For someone who can be so tongue-tied and hesitant about other stuff, it's good to hear him speaking so confidently and knowledgeably about something. He can't help but be interested, too.

And Kieran's explanation makes sense, but just brings up a bunch of other questions, actually. ]

So when you ride a horse you're not just sitting there you're, like, moving?

[ Listen he's read a lot of old novels where people ride horses but that's about it when it comes to his knowledge. He's starting from pretty much zero, here. ]

Isn't that kind of tiring after a while?

[ Who would've thought!

Ben tips the fried eggs onto two plates and tosses a couple slices of bread into the pan to toast. Not the most efficient way but it is something. When he's pulled those out, he heads back to the table, setting a plate down in front of Kieran and one by his own chair. It's only another moment before he's grabbed them forks and he's sitting down again, asking: ]

You took care of horses, right? Back in your world? That was, like, your job?

[ Ben has to assume so, given Kieran's knowledge and the way he had handled Eavan when she was so scared. ]

[sleepyhollowed]

[It's all true! Kieran lacks confident in most subjects, but when he gets into something that he knows, the words just flow out of him. His nervous tendencies fade away and make room for a calm poise he doesn't usually get to experience.]

Nah, you get used to it. It's good exercise, too!

[He chuckles, soft and warm, before falling to silence.]

[Ben's next questions prove to be a bit more difficult. Not because he doesn't know the answer--but because he knows that those are a bit more hard to swallow than some silly horse facts].

I, uh, y-yeah. I took care of horses. F-Fer a buncha different people. I worked in a stable when I was a kid, h-helped with the horses in the Army, but, uh, th-those jobs didn't last fer too long.

[ He doesn't want to risk losing a friend over what he's done in the past, but he also doesn't want to hide anything from someone who's been nothing but genuinely kind to him.]

[Even if it means losing said kindness, at least he can say he was honest.]

[The silence hangs for a few more moments, and then Kieran responds.]

I-It was outlaws, mostly. I, uh, I-I took care of horses fer the gangs I fell in with.

[Horses that were used to rob and kill folks. And, sometimes, he would help with that, too.]

[benhargreeves]

[ Ben can immediately tell that Kieran is uncomfortable with the question. The change is so clear, in the way he's holding himself, the way he starts to stutter and stumble over his words. At first he isn't sure why. Perhaps Kieran is self-conscious, thinking it's a profession Ben would look down on? He doesn't know a lot about history, but it seems like the sort of job where people might not respect Kieran much because they see it as menial work. Ben almost interrupts him, to reassure him that he thinks it is important and skillful work, to say how admirable it is he found his way in the world after his parents passed.

But Ben's not really the interrupting type. So he is silent, waiting for Kieran to finish. And gradually it becomes clear to him, where that discomfort is coming from.

The actual revelation itself comes as a surprise. Kieran has struck him so far as such a gentle and nervous person. Ben knows, of course, that criminals come in all shapes and sizes, but he honestly just... didn't see it coming in this case. His surprise is clear, from the way his eyebrows raise, the quiet way he sets down his fork before taking a bite.

Gangs. Did that mean the same thing in Kieran's time, that it did in Ben's? He isn't afraid - that much is clear. Ben is perfectly capable of protecting himself. But he does seem uncomfortable. He's thinking about just how many robbers and murderers he had, himself, killed, when he was in the Academy. ]

...Oh.

[ No point in pretending he isn't surprised. That moment's passed; he hadn't found his poker face fast enough and now they're here. Ben looks over at Kieran, the shocked look on his face shifting into concern, and unease. ]

That's. I... wasn't expecting that. You don't... seem much like the other criminals I've met. How... did that happen, exactly?

[ He could be wrong, but just based on what Kieran's already told him about his life, and the way he acts, and the tone of his voice now as he's talking about this, Ben doesn't think it was his first choice. Maybe he hadn't had other options? Ben knows how circumstances can force people onto all kinds of paths. ]

[sleepyhollowed]

['Criminal'.]

[It's a word that Kieran hadn't heard often, and one that cuts deep now that he has. He doesn't quite flinch, at least not visibly, but he's finding it tougher to make eye contact with Ben. Back then, in the Wild West, outlaws would paint their activities not as breaking the law, but as a great equalizer. In civilization, the rich and powerful made the rules and expected everyone else to follow them. Outside of those rules was where true freedom could be obtained. They answered to nobody except the occasional run-in with a lawman, but even then, loopholes and a basic understanding of your fellow man's weaknesses took care of that well enough.]

[But the reality was much different. Promises of freedom and living by your own rules were undermined by a different brand of social hierarchy and a different set of rules that tended to serve the meaner and bigger gangs out there. Kieran fell for those promises, kicked out of the opportunities (or lack thereof) that 'proper civilization' offered, and yearning for something more, something that could keep him alive and happy and free.]

[Throughout all his time in those gangs, he'd been one of those things consistently, and even that was something he barely managed.]

[So the word hurts, and so does the implication behind it, but it's not Ben's fault that it does, and it's not his fault that Kieran can't exactly explain why.]

I-It... I...

[He's told the story so many times before, but that had always been to other outlaws. To other people who'd done, at the very least, illegal things to survive. They couldn't judge him for his path. That made it easy.]

[Here, Kieran feels like he has to justify himself. At the same time, it's the first time he's ever had to try.]

[And the scariest part about it is that he's not sure if he can.]

A-A little while after my parents died, the stable I worked at kicked me out. After that, I joined the Army, and, uh, i-it didn't end well. Soon enough, I fell in with a gang of outlaws. Minded their horses. That gang got wiped out by an even bigger gang. The, uh, the O'Driscolls.

[He falls silent at the name. His throat closes up at the memories, and a hand instinctively rises up to rub at his neck. That's another conversation for later. Assuming his and Ben's friendship lasts through this one.]

I-I ran with them fer a few months, also takin' care of their horses. Sometimes runnin' stuff for 'em. Then, one day, one of their camps got attacked. I-I was supposed to be there, but C-Colm O'Driscoll--the leader--sent me out to do somethin' else. I got chased down by a feller named Arthur Morgan. He, uh, he ran with another gang led by Dutch van der Linde.

Th-The Van der Lindes and the O'Driscolls, they don't, uh, they don't like each other much. So that meant they didn't like me much, neither. So they, uh, they tied me to a post. A-And then they moved camps and tied me to a tree fer a couple more weeks. No food, uh, sometimes I got water.

That was a good time!

[IT WASN'T.]

Anyway, they did that until they could get some information about the O'Driscolls outta me. They, uh, they did. And then Arthur let me stay with 'em after I saved his life. I-I had to ask, of course, but it was better than bein' let loose ta fend fer myself.

[At least, that's what he thought at the time.]

[benhargreeves]

[ Ben waits, patiently, for Kieran to find the right words. At the start of it, his face is neutral, listening, intent but without urgency. As Kieran talks, all those moments of failure and rejection, the details elided but the pain right there in his voice for Ben to hear. When he describes how he drifted from job to job and ended up in bad company, some sympathy begins to creep into Ben's expression.

Then, the story gets worse. Ben keeps his reactions as minimal he can. He knows from experience that talking about fucked up shit that's happened to you can be harder when someone's reacting in large ways. But he covers his mouth with his hand, absently pressing hard in horror, as Kieran talks about being traded around between gangs, like he was some kind of property. He talks, jokes, about being tortured. He might not use that word, but Ben hears it clearly enough. Ben tries to stay stoic, and he only flinches once, when Kieran says they had starved him.

And then on top of all that, being made to ask permission, to stay with the people who tortured him? Ben doesn't even notice, as first one tear, and then another, spills down his cheeks. So much for not reacting...

He hadn't thought it would be a good story. But he had not been prepared at all for this, or worse, for the casual, offhand way Kieran talks about all that violence and humiliation, like it was acceptable.

When Ben finally speaks, his voice is thick with emotion: ]

Kieran, I... I don't know what to say.

[ And for a few moments, Ben really is speechless. It's impressive, in a distant sort of way ,that he can still be so stunned by the cruelty of the world. He thinks about Kieran, how he was with Eavan when she was so startled, the gentle way he'd spoken to her. Thinks about how shyly and gratefully he'd accepted the offer to teach him to read. And he thinks now about Kieran, tied up and delirious with hunger, shoved from bad situation to bad situation, just trying to survive.

Ben draws in a very shaky breath, swiping a fresh tear from his cheek as he leans back in his chair. ]

I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to - I shouldn't have asked you that. I... I didn't know.

[ Ben looks up and meets Kieran's eyes, finally, face apologetic and just... heartbroken, on Kieran's behalf. That he had had to live through such things. That he had been given so few options. Ben has no doubt about that, now. ]

[sleepyhollowed]

[Not too many people take a lot of stock in what Kieran has to say, and even fewer have treated his story with anything more than a nod of a head or a grunt in commiseration. Where he's from, with the crowds he's mixed with, everyone has their own personal tragedies. The thing is, trying to work through them or to understand the injustice of it all didn't do anything to keep supplies filled or get chores done, so nobody ever dwelled on these stories too much.]

[As such, he has no idea what to say or do when Ben reacts with pure compassion and empathy.]

N-No! No, it's--it's alright. No harm done, honest!

[Kieran stands up and places a hand (the other still holding that weird leather skirt) on Ben's arm in a desperate bid to help his buddy feel a little better. All he can figure right now is that it's a good thing he didn't go further into what happened during his time with the Van der Lindes. Specifically, how the O'Driscoll gang thought best to take their revenge on him.]

Look, uh, e-everything that happened. It's all in the past now. I-I ain't... it ain't...

[He sighs. He can't say it's okay. None of it was even remotely close to okay. Even when the blanket of Stockholm Syndrome began to wrap around his shoulders, Kieran knew deep down in his heart that the way he'd been tossed around and treated, especially by the Van der Lindes, was nothing short of unfair and cruel. But, he'd done what he could with it, making a living and making it known that he wasn't some commodity to be pushed around. He had worth, even if that worth came from cleaning tables and taking care of horses.]

I got friends here now. [He locks eyes with Ben, drilling that point home.] None of that other stuff matters to me 'cause of that. Everyone here, you've all treated me like I got somethin' to contribute. Like I a-ain't just some dumbass nervy feller who's only good fer horses and gettin' picked' on. You guys, y-you actually care.

And it, uh, it m-means a lot.

[benhargreeves]

[ Ben gives a little shake of his head, as if he could argue, make Kieran not dismiss his intrusion so lightly. He should have listened to his gut. He had already seen by interacting with Kieran the sort of man that he is. There were other ways, kinder ways, he could have asked about what led him to that path in life. He will just... have to try to do better, in the future.

And in spite of Kieran's insistence that it's all in the past, Ben knows from personal experience how past hurts can linger. Even if Kieran is telling himself it's all over and that means it is done... Ben has seen his siblings each in their own way destroyed, by their pasts, the ones they were fighting so desperately to pretend didn't matter. And, he supposes, he should put himself on that list, too.

The hand on his arm helps a little, and Ben blinks away the rest of his tears. There is just one thing, and he has to say it, and he is going to, and he hopes that Kieran can hear him. Ben looks at him, all dark eyes and an expression soft with sadness but full of conviction: ]

It matters that it happened to you. It does. You deserved better than that. I hope - somebody's told you that before, and if they haven't.... you didn't deserve to be- to be- to be treated like that.

[ A little of the softness leaves his voice, as he goes on, insistent: ]

And listen, if anybody ever treats you like that again - I mean, picks on you, or scares you, or hurts you, even if it's just a little bit - I want you to tell me, Kieran, okay? Even if it's embarrassing to talk about it. Because I... I would really like to be your friend. And I know I might not seem like the most intimidating person out there, but.

[ A brief, but heavy pause, before he finishes, delicately, but with absolute certainty: ]

But I can be, when I need to be. And I do care. So if anyone tries to push you around, please come to me. And I will take care of it.

[ Does Ben mean he is going to MURDER them? Does he mean he's just going to LECTURE them? It's hard to say, really. His intense expression is replaced by a small smile as he adds, much more lightly: ]

And you're not a dumbass. You're a really fast learner, I can tell that already.

[sleepyhollowed]

[Kieran knows.]

[Deep down inside, he knows.]

[He knows that he didn’t deserve any of the treatment he’d received from the stable owners. The O’Driscolls. The Van der Lindes. Any of them. He knows that there’s something inherently unfair about the way life’s unfolded for him and the decisions he’s made because of the winding, murky paths laid before his inexperienced feet. But it’s easier—so much easier—to believe otherwise. It’s easier to believe that his maltreatment is because of something he must have done horribly wrong. Because to believe otherwise would mean he’d have to face the harsh realities of human cruelty. He’d have to face that people are capable of random acts of horror and that their victims didn’t have to do anything inherently awful to land on the receiving end. He’d have to face that sometimes the world didn’t deliver justice to those who truly needed it, and that there was no rhyme or reason behind the fates of all the folks who seemed to die around him, leaving him alone to deal with the next tragedy.]

[Pretending it all didn’t matter, that the past was exactly that: the past, helped. It helped protect his all-too-gentle soul against the monolith of dread that towered over exploring such difficult, conflicting feelings. Pretending it all didn’t matter meant he didn’t have to peel back layers of the callous formed carefully around his memories and expose him to the slop of iniquity that had disguised itself as an unfettered freedom—the kind of freedom that he, like so many others in his precarious situation, had been told he should love and be grateful for by the very men who sought the same unmitigated power as the high-society elites they disparaged, yet mimicked in all but their methodology. The freedom that civilization, mired in politicians and lawmen and the true criminals who dealt in shady back alley deals, would love nothing more than to steal from him. The freedom that came from open plains, sleeping under the stars, and holding a gun to some poor bastard’s head simply because he had been in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong amount of cash in his wallet.]

[If none of that mattered, then people like Kieran, in search of a better life and failing spectacularly at that desperate struggle, wouldn’t have to look back at their own actions and how everything they’ve done—no matter how ‘right’ or ‘wrong’—had landed them in dire straights. He wouldn’t have to confront the fact that no matter what the intent was behind a decision, sometimes the end result would simply be bad. By whose standards, he couldn’t say for sure, but he’s certain that the things he thought were ‘bad’ prior to his life as an outlaw are looking pretty good. He’d been told that civilization was nothing more than its own special kind of evil designed to enslave people like him, and that to submit to its demands was a fate worse than death… but as someone who’s experienced all of the above, he knows which path he’d pick, if he were given the chance again. It’s the path that doesn’t involve him shouting at a rival gang member to leave him alone or he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot. It’s the path that wouldn’t force him to make good on that promise… or at least half of it. He wasn’t exactly known for his swift trigger finger.]

[If Kieran could do it all over again, he would never consider the outlaw life. It only led to broken promises that no level of camaraderie built upon flimsy rules disguised as reverent codes of honor could offset. Sure, some of his happiest memories could be found singing around a campfire with people he hoped would have his back during spots of potentially deadly trouble, but it paled in comparison to the days lived in terror of the bullet with your name on it. Or, in his case, the knife meant for your throat.]

[It’s that terror that awaits him if he were to try and dig through the emotions that surrounds his past. That tempest of fear and anger and shame that he keeps bottled up and locked down deep in his gut where nobody, himself included, could find them. Uncovering that would only lead to a deluge of negative emotion that has no outlet. It’s not like any of the people who’ve caused that pain (whether physical or emotional) are here to shout and scream at, nor can he can drop to his hands and knees and beg the forgiveness of the people he’d hurt—sometimes killed—in return, regardless of how much they ‘deserved’ it. No, the only person here who can shoulder the blame for that storm brewing inside of him is Kieran Duffy.]

[And, frankly, that guy’s had his ass handed to him enough already.]

[Kieran’s eyes, usually bright and vibrant green, are dull and hollow when they meet Ben’s. He nods, absorbing affirmations hat he doesn’t doubt are genuine and heart-felt. The kind of affirmations that his validation-seeking heart chased and cherished whenever the opportunity arose. It’s just nice to have someone tell him that they care, that he matters, that maybe he could handle book-learning, that there’s a possibility that he deserves better (even if he’d vehemently deny that). Scary, in its own way, but nice.]

[He smiles, and the life returns to his visage, although his voice is quiet and thick with emotion.]

Thank you.

[Kieran clears his throat.]

Fer—fer everythin’, I mean. Really. Thank you.

[The smile turns into a chuckle, half-hearted and sardonic, but meant to bring a smidgeon of levity to a heavy conversation.]

A-As far that offer, I believe ya. I’ve known plenty of fellers that don’t seem all that intimidatin’ until you cross ‘em. Then, uh, you learn real quick not to make ‘em mad ever again.

[Assuming you lived through that kind of confrontation. Not everyone did.]

Let’s hope that it doesn’t come to that, though.

[Because even if he wouldn’t think less of Ben for letting his less-than-nice side show, he knows that if that were to ever happen, it’s entirely possible that Ben would think less of himself. That’s just how good people work.]

[benhargreeves]

Let's hope.

[ And now that he's heard Kieran's story and has a little more context of the way he's been treated and the kind of thing he might believe is not only possible but also not unlikely from the people around him, but meets his eyes and reassures, gravely: ]

You don't ever have to worry about - crossing me, or making me mad. Klaus makes me mad every single day but I love him, and I'd never. Ever. Ever hurt him.

[ Okay look Ben HAS punched Klaus once or twice but they're siblings and that hardly counts - plus they were in very extreme moments. Ben had never tried to frighten Klaus, never used his fears or secrets against him, never turned on him, never abandoned him, never wanted harm to come to him.

Ben explains, a little more concretely: ]

You'd only ever have to worry about... how intimidating I can be, if you started going around just hurting people around here, and weren't willing to talk it through or stop. And I can't be completely sure, obviously, but... former outlaw or not, I don't think you're gonna just start viciously attacking folks for no reason. That's not you.

[ He exhales slowly, finally picking his fork back up and digging in, glad for the company, glad today has happened, glad that he is alive again so he can have conversations like this one, even with the flaws and misunderstandings. ]