#docvelaw

[syxjaewon]

a zephyran timetable

@docvelaw

the first thing endymion notices when he opens his eyes is the dripping sound, the slow, draining plopping noise that his logical brain understands is a quiet inconvenience, but his immediate reactive brain hates with a vengeance, like a needle pricking him over and over and over. it’s bright enough that he winces as he opens his eyes and for a unrefined moment, he thinks he might still be on zephyr, laying in his mother’s garden, out on the lawn, the sun in the sky, the shine of it shifting the world into a blinding white, and he welcomes it, embraces that feeling because it means that none of them are dead and the palaces weren’t attacked and his people aren’t being slaughtered somewhere while he floats out into space with strangers.

the truth however, of course, settles in on him at the same time, his eyes focusing, his fingers twitching, tensing, curling, his limbs coming back to remember themselves, coming back to reassert themselves, begging to stretch and twist, as though he’s been unconscious for years. he shuts his eyes again and sees saito, harsh and unrelenting, his teeth showing as he shouts at endymion to get in the fucking pod, his fist slamming into the young prince’s face hard enough to make him queasy, to make him compliant, to kill the fight in him long enough to shove him inside the enclosed space and lock him in. he shuts his eyes and sees his soldiers, his guard, screaming and fighting as their ship is overtaken, as the walls shutter and crack, the larger warhammer vessel swallowing the front window like the mouth of a great sea monster.

he jolts himself out of it and looks around, notices that he’s not alone, not by a long shot, a mummy-looking man standing over by the cabinets, a small robot making beeping noises, and the body of another male, stretched across a mirrored gurney a few feet away from him. as soon as the doctor moves, endymion recognizes the unconscious man’s face. “galiad,” he murmurs, his throat dry and scratchy, sounding like bending wood, his tongue a ball of cotton in his mouth. the air tastes too sterile in here, thin and sticky, and he has to gulp several times just to say it again, to call him again. “galiad.”

but galiad doesn’t move, doesn’t wake up, doesn’t even twitch in endymion’s direction, completely oblivious to him, completely unaware. endymion has never seen galiad, one of the unbroken brothers, asleep before and something in him whispers that he shouldn’t be looking at him now, that it’s forbidden, that it’s unrighteous, unholy, sacrilegious. the order of monks swear off humanistic things, such as over-sleeping and over-eating, which is why galiad also looks quite thin, even by zephyran standards, which admittedly are quite high given the planet’s struggle with food shortages in recent years.

endymion tries to reach for him before realizing that the dripping that had woken him up before was an iv attached to his own arm, the needle very real inside his vein, the hookup connecting him to a bag hanging to his left. he doesn’t wish to damage anything but the urge to get out of this place, out of this room, is a strong one, and it takes every ounce of self-control his training has prepared him for, to keep himself as still as possible. “doctor,” he addresses the masked figure. “where are we? what happened?” he remembers the rough bit of his first waking, the vallurian saito had told him about, the message on the drive stick, the lies about his family being dead, but it’s all very messy and disorganized inside his head. he needs something clearer.

[syharper]

give me the news

@docvelaw​

after that one horrible, sleepless night - the sleepless part was horrible, the rest is still in debate - harper had decided that going by the ship’s doctor for a health checkup was probably not a bad idea, especially since all of her muscles had cramped up when she got out of bed in the morning, and she doesn’t quite fancy looking like some ancient grandmother grown crooked as she shuffles her way through the ship. she especially doesn’t fancy feeding her child and then having to take an hour just to get up from said position. aside from that, it seems like yala still hasn’t fully settled either, and if something’s going wrong with her baby, she needs to know.

so she’d made her way over to the med bay, remembering the time when it was inhabited by a different medic, remembering so many things about the time she’d spent here before. and then, of course, like a continuous flashback to something she wishes she could forget, there’d been the memories of the night before, of jaewon standing so close to her, of everything that had transpired. those were a little more difficult to brush aside, and so she’d still had half a mind on the images in her head when she’d walked into the med bay.

that had all changed when the doctor had turned towards her, and she’d been struck by his familiar features, temporarily stunned in surprise before rationality kicked in again. if he’s aboard a smuggling ship captained by jaewon, he most probably is no longer the man she used to know, no longer on the side he used to be on, and so the initial tension seeps out of her shoulders again. she takes another step into the med bay, smiling lightly as she takes him in, and then decides to announce herself.

“adrien,” she starts, but before another word can come out of her mouth, a lot of things happen at once. she sees him lunge, and it’s a frown that takes over her features next, her arm holding the baby already protectively curling a little more in on herself. then he whirls back around, gun aimed straight at her, and she reacts instinctively, ducking, reaching, holding her daughter even more closely to her chest, turning just so that if any bullet should come out of the gun, she will be hit before her daughter could ever be. but somehow, despite seeing her coming, adrien does not react in any way on time, and so she’s got his gun in her own hand before long, the muzzle of it against his forehead, her eyes going temporarily down to his robot, which is aiming something at her, the laser point of it landing on the wrapped shape of her daughter.

in all the commotion, yala of course also doesn’t stay contently asleep, and so the next sound in the room is the confused little sounds of her daughter attempting to make sense of it all. “tell your robot to stop aiming at my daughter,” she says with the calmest, most lethal of voices. her gaze stays on the robot, but she’s also keeping an eye on the doctor from her peripheral view. his expression has shifted into one of surprise now, but she doesn’t care, won’t care about anything until she is certain again that yala is safe. “if it harms her,” she spells out slowly, to make sure he will get every word of it. “you will pay for it. slowly and painfully. until your very last breath.”

[artificialautonomy]

Droid Solidarity : doc & eon

@docvelaw

Worst case scenario, Eon has a stray thought that he refuses to bury. Most of those thoughts float away quickly when he’s distracted. Ideas squashed by the captain’s barking order. But there’s no captain’s orders, just the medic station, one of the few droids, the doctor, and him. Eon remains near the entrance, familiarizing himself again with a room he had been banned from after a costly mistake. A room he will continue to be newly outlawed from because he always finds himself returning until the doctor chases him away.

“I have no intention to touch anything. Do not feel compelled to warn me.”

Mostly true to his word, Eon only leans down to greet the small droid. His hand gently resting on top, feeling the low hum of their tirelessly working core. Eon’s voice drops to a whisper.

“Is the doctor treating you well? Are you overworked?” Not that he expects the droid to leave the medical bay with him for a break. They all have their purpose on this ship. Though he cannot help but check up on the other droids just in case. He knows too well what it’s like to be used and discarded. “I can help with other things that do not involve medical procedures.” This time he speaks loud enough for the doctor. “You have a lot more patients to keep track of now. It must be overwhelming at times.”

[bade-wavewar]

Canopus

Canopus; Have you ever broken a bone?

Several. 

[syxhenry]

the clock is ticking

despite his family dying years ago, more than a decade ago, there has always been an invisible thread binding him to them, tying him to the remnants of a life once lived, to the tatters of his youth that stick to his skin as if he’s a entity running on excess fuel. he never thought he would last much longer, never thought the world between here and where the finish line would be spanned over a very large amount of space anymore. but still he kept going, driven by some sort of survival instinct, something that kept him moving, that made him want to somehow, in whatever way he could, get back at the people who destroyed his entire life.

and then things changed. he found peace in a small engine room on a beat up ship with no particular destination. he found peace within the metal-alloy plating carrying him through space. he found peace and a home in a ship that would perhaps burn to a crisp, but would never let her soul slip into oblivion if there was still a chance for henry to fix her, to put her back together and help her fly again. there’s an infinity in machines; a way to fix them over and over again, to replace parts with newer pieces until they outlive you by at least as many years as you spent working on them. this is the peace he found; the knowledge that there was one thing in the world that could not be taken from him before he would go himself.

funny, how that works.

he doesn’t think of the time when he left, doesn’t think of the crazy hunt across the galaxy until he found the person he went looking for. he doesn’t think of the months after, slowly nursing the man back to health, slowly trying to carve out a piece in the universe for the two of them. he doesn’t think of the moment when the realisation came that he’d gone and done something stupid again. he doesn’t think of the pain he felt when he packed up his things, landed their spaceship on one of the major travel hub planets in the verse and boarded something else - anything else - just to get out of there. he doesn’t think of how for a long time it felt like he left a part of him somewhere else.

at some point he ran into the doc then, two wandering souls trying to find purchase, and so they’d decided to travel together. he never asked what doc was running from, doc never asked what he was going towards. they just went, and went, and kept going. and then one day... one day they ended up on a planet doomed to head towards its own destruction, and doc had been asked to heal someone, and henry had found... something. his connection to machines, perhaps. a new challenge he couldn’t say no to, because no beaumondian engineer in their right mind could ever see a mech and decide to leave without getting a closer look. and perhaps he imagined the look on his father’s face if they would’ve seen this together, and perhaps it was just easier to lose himself in what he knew best for a while rather than to think of anything else.

but a planet is a planet. a planet is a sitting duck when someone’s out to target it. there is no moving in unexpected directions or hiding in unseen corners when you’re on a planet. and a planet blows up a whole lot more easily than most people think it does. 

so they left. they left and they set a new course. for the first time in the months they traveled together, henry told the doc of his home, of his baby flying out among the stars, and his wish to board her again. and so they’d followed every trail, every lead, until eventually he’d managed to pick up her signal again with his very own tracker, and they’d followed her across the black, until eventually they’d found her on this or the other planet, and henry had finally been able to put his feet back on home soil, bring himself back to safety, find peace again in the steady thrumming of her engine and the dependable rumble of her gears working.

there has always been an invisible thread binding him to his family, tying him to the remnants of a lost youth, of a time when he was still naive and innocent, when he could still afford to be naive and innocent. and then his sister walked back into his life, and contrary to what one would think would happen in the event of gaining back that which he lost, the thread snapped.

he sits with his back against the metal plating like the constant rumble of the ship will somehow chase the emptiness out of him, like serenity will be able to clear all the doubt from his mind, but she can’t. it is as if, like a ship without a pilot, he’s just floating out in the black, directionless, clueless, useless. the more serenity is coming back to full life around him as he works on her parts and tinkers on her pieces, the emptier it seems he grows, as if he’s letting his life force bleed into the ship, as if he’s giving it whatever is left of him, because what is he going to do with it anyway?

harper walked into his life, into the peace he’d carved out for himself, like a memory of everything bad that happened. rather than soothe him with her familiarity, rather than warm him with the recognition, she is an invasion on the home he’s made for himself. she is a stranger stepping into his most treasured space, but a stranger whose familiarity stabs at the softest, sorest parts of his core. a stranger who is a walking reminder suddenly, once more, of everything he has lost, of every little bit of all he once treasured that will never be the way it was again. and it was easier, he thinks, to handle the constant nagging pressure of that loss, when he wasn’t reminded of it every single time. when his sister wasn’t there with him like some caricature version of herself. it was easier when at least his memories were free from the reality of life; that nothing good can ever stay unbroken.

serenity hums all around him, steady and unchanging, but the peace he used to find here, in the heart of her, is gone. because just like his sister, just like everything good that he managed to find in his life, he now knows she, too, can be corrupted, will be corrupted, will become something entirely different from what he once knew.

it’s only a matter of time,

and the clock is ticking.

[tercrai-aloncruz-blog]

Bloodstone

Bloodstone: Who is someone you would risk your life for?

I risked it many times for Ethon, she was the little girl we protected on one of the ships I was a part of before. I think I might’ve told you. We got in this huge fight over her with a strange religious cult. And I fought for her as hard as I could, I think I wouldn’t have mind dying if it meant I could’ve saved her. 

Also, technically every time I try to defuse a situation after our cap gets us in one, I’m risking my life. So, in conclusion, I would risk it for all of you. 

[syxjaewon]

+ for all the stars we never caught +

songs for a boy he knew as “adrien”                                (a childhood love story)

come out and play     x     billie eilish

And I know it makes you nervous But I promise you, it's worth it To show 'em everything you kept inside Don't hide, don't hide, come out and play

youth     x     daughter

We are the reckless, we are the wild youth Chasing visions of our futures And if you're still breathing, you're the lucky ones 'Cause most of us are heaving through corrupted lungs Setting fire to our insides for fun

cover your tracks     x     a boy and his kite

Heart, cover your tracks The blood that you spill, will wash what you lack Soul, sew up your wounds Test out your engine, give it some room

the kids aren’t alright     x     fall out boy

And in the end, I'd do it all again I think you're my best friend I'll be yours, when it rains it pours Stay thirsty like before Don't you know that the kids aren't all, kids aren't alright

viva la vida     x     coldplay

Be my mirror, my sword and shield My missionaries in a foreign field For some reason I can't explain Once you’re gone there was never, never a honest word

in space     x     ludo

And even though I'd always dreamed of going to the stars In space, what I think about is you and me and atmosphere This place Is terrible and endless Counting moon rocks for the cause Just me in a little pod I can't wait for gravity to bring you close to me

[syxjaewon]

my nightmares are usually about losing you, i’m okay once i realize you’re here. 

he looks like shit, that’s the first thing sal notices about doc as soon as he stumbles into the navigation room at this ungodly hour, nowhere near either the official on-ship evening or morning regimen. his hair is askew, his skin pallid, the scars around and over his eyes stark and hateful in the dim lighting and sal’s own perfect eyesight. sal knows he should get him back to his room.

when doc speaks though, salathiel freezes, a lump immediately coiling in his throat, his hands clenching, his mind scrambling. it’s late, there’s no one else around, not even doc’s annoying little droid creature, and sal stands in the silence as though it will suffocate him to speak, stands poised against the breaking point of a cliff’s edge as though any acknowledgement of doc’s rawness will cast him down against the rocks. he tries to swallow but he just feels himself choking.

“i’m…” he wants to say that he’s here, no matter what, he wants to say that he’s not a stone to be cast across a lakeside surface, only to sink beneath the depths; he is a lighthouse in a storm, a sun burning in the vacuum of space, always shining, always reaching, always waiting. come to me. there are exactly three steps between him and doc’s body, three steps between cold loneliness and tasting which flavor of liquor is on doc’s lips, and all he can do is stare at it, blazing.

but no matter how brightly he flares, doc can’t see that.

“your nightmares are ridiculous. let’s get you back to your room.”

[syxjaewon]

@docvelaw | the law of the wild

the body of the man falls right in front of sal’s feet like an offering of blood to the god of war, and sal sneers down at it as though he really is made from ichor and gold, disdain and inhumanity. he is not a creature of mercy or patience-- he has no time for this-- but the motionless figure is not a prayer on the lips of lesser beings; it is simply a man, dust-dried in the heat of this world, dying at sal’s feet.

he’s seen many men fall and cough their last breaths before him, hacking into the dust. it’s a sight he’s keen on dealing with today.

he steps around the man and walks the few meters to his ship’s dock, the derelict gaping wide for him like a bored maw, yawning and not paying any attention to the world around it, and for a long moment, he thinks he should just forget, just ignore, just move on. the worlds spin and the suns burn and life pauses for nothing. but as he’s dropping off the bag of crystals he’s collected in the past hour of gathering, he notices doc on the other end of the room, and gets a familiar itch in his stomach.

“doc,” he sighs the name, exhausted already. “need you outside for a second. there’s a problem you gotta fix.”

[syxjaewon]

i must have loved you a lot. 

“hah!” salathiel barks with little to no mirth, the sound ricocheting out across the mess hall, more of an electric shock than an amused reaction to doc’s assessment. if they were on better terms, if they were steadier with each other and looking at him didn’t make sal want to break something with his bare hands, salathiel might actually want to hit him with something, he might actually throw one of the chair cushions directly at doc’s head, blind or no, just for the willfulness.

“fuck you, doc, i won that game last night fair and square, you didn’t let me win jack shit.” forget the casual drop of words, the teasing note of affection, the absurd idea that doc enjoys sal’s presence so much that he would, in a fit of drunken enthusiasm, allow him to win what sal assumes is the only board game doc is capable of winning and therefore capable of losing. “you’re just sore about it. maybe you need to get yourself checked by your own med droid.”

[syxjaewon]

for the first time since he's boarded the ship, valen seeks out the captain deliberately. "you and the doctor are close, yes?" there's an immediate frown to his lips as he slips into the room. the door quietly locks behind him. “then your selfishness truly knows no bounds,” he spits. the amber glow of the other's eyes is a mockery. no godkiller should have such liquid gold for sight. “the doctor is far more deserving of those eyes than you. hand them over." a beat. "or i will do it for you.”

(i’m blaming @docvelaw for this!!!!!!)

sal’s upper lip pulls back in a sneer as he hears valen’s footsteps echo closer and closer, the cadence a distinctive rhythm that sets his teeth on edge before valen even opens his mouth. when he does, sal just frowns at him for a long moment, wondering what the hell interactions he’s seen the captain and the medic have with each other that gave him the idea they were ever close. doc hates sal; everyone on this ship does, except violet and maybe leon (and that’s pending, he’s sure). “what the fuck are you saying to me right now?” 

does valen know he’s just locked himself inside the navigation room with a monster? does he know that salathiel’s blood burns hotter than the heart of a blue supergiant star, at ten thousand kelvin, blazing just beneath his skin like bomb always threatening to explode? does he know that salathiel’s father killed over a dozen surgeons to find the one who would be willing to make him these metallic gold irises, stitch them to his brain, wire them to his nervous system, affix them into the head of a toddler?

he stands up slowly, stepping around the table, one hand on the grip of his blaster that always sits at his thigh, the other wrapped around the hilt of the broad-bladed spiral dagger at his hip on the other side, his head tilting, his eyes glowing, his tone daring. “you think you can? let’s see you try.”

[syxjaewon]

@docvelaw | dust and rust go hand in hand

sal’s boots are made mostly of monster hide leather and steel. belt straps wind up the sides to keep them attached to his feet, tight and thick and reaching halfway up his shin, kept from fraying or weakening after all these years by sheer force of will. they’re heavy, durable, made with men of action in mind, for wartime excursions or mining disciplines, and sal wears them as though he is in both those occupations simultaneously; a lone soldier battling against the universe laid out against him, and a digger, chipping away at the walls of entire worlds to get precious metals that vein through society.

in short, sal’s boots thud against the hull of the ship without remorse or hesitation, so when something is trodden underfoot, there’s usually very little hope of recovery. fortunately for everyone else aboard the derelict besides salathiel however, this happens to be the one time he doesn’t decimate something simply by getting too close to it. 

when he strides out of the mess hall in a hurry, his eyes pinned backwards on the havoc his passengers are making of their breakfasts (someone is going to have to clean that mess up and it’s not gonna be him), he hears something crunch and whine, a lump just beneath his heel, so he startles and backs off it, sneering and glaring. stupid, careless little critter bug; he hates this piece of robot trash doc lets roam about the ship-- okay maybe it’s not so far from the medbay but doc knows how much sal hates pets. 

he huffs frustratedly and scoops the metal rat up by its damaged leg, letting it dangle and shaking it every time it tries to move. annoying, creepy little pile of screws. it’s bad enough having eon on board, bad enough having jedi on board, bad enough that the ship is constantly falling apart and sal is constantly exhausted and no one seems to give a shit that they’re between jobs at the moment. now he has to deal with this too.

“your rat got loose.” his voice is clipped and sharp-edged as he enters the medbay, tossing the little runt onto one of the counters along the side of the wall. “i crunched something in its leg. i would bring it all the way down to leon to have it fixed but,” he shrugs. “i don’t care enough to.”

[artificialautonomy]

♠

♠: Favourite thing to do with your muse

“I enjoy visiting the doctor, though even I can recognize the feeling is far from mutual. It’s not that either of us really needs the company. I suppose in some way I want to understand him, even if he doesn’t want me to. My favorite is-- were those short moments, when I would learn just a little bit more.”

[bade-wavewar]

10,11

10. what would your character make a scene in public about?

We all know I love making scenes in public. Preferably ones that serve as a good distraction, how else do we get things done? Joules would gladly back me up on this. I am a fantastic actor. @joules-roscoe

Also, if anyone dared to insult Baru, I would gladly cause a scene to distract people from me plunging a dagger in their throats. 

11. for what would your character give their life?

I would’ve given it for Baru. 

Nothing, I’m not known to be reckless. I am sorry, but if it comes down to choosing between myself and anything else, I’m betting on me. And I wouldn’t blame anyone for doing the same thing. We all fight for survival in this galaxy anyway. 

[bade-wavewar]

Lapis Lazuli

Lapis Lazuli: What is something about your life that you’ve been lying about?

Eeheh, nice one. What haven’t I been lying about.

Remember when I said I was going to take rest and not make my injury worse? Yay, didn’t do that. Taking it now though. Lie again.

[syxjaewon]

"it's bad enough already that he's absolutely unreliable with any task whatsoever, but now he's also shooting our own people and making me waste precious, expensive supplies on something that could've easily been avoided if he'd not turned his fucking blaster to his own crew member." he frowns deeply at where he knows the captain to be. "i don't get why you're still keeping him around, but if he harms one more crew member it's him or me you're dropping off at the next planet, godkiller."

honestly, salathiel thinks it’s funny more than anything, can’t help the grin that spreads over his features every time he thinks about valen getting shot, every time he imagines his droid doing the one thing he himself hasn’t managed to get around to yet. the one thing sal would commend eon on doing-- and here’s doc, thumping in, frustrated and boiling, about the travesty of it all.

sal leans more heavily against the table in the navigation room, his hands flat on the surface of it, his shoulders slumping and exhausted from holding up the weight of all his trespasses, all his still-wounded, still-throbbing body, and he hangs his head while he listens to doc’s rantings. “you’re not actually coming to me to complain about supplies now, are you? what, we haven’t always been tight on money? we haven’t always been making it, rough?” sal’s been living on the wired-edge of acceptable ever since his first ship fell out of the sky and broke his life into pieces. he shrugs. “maybe valen had it coming, the guy’s a dipshit, why should i care about him getting shot at a little?”

but then doc makes his final point, a blade in the centerfold of their conversation, and now salathiel does look up at him through his eyelashes, his chin still tilted downwards, gold eyes sharp and razored, angry and sunscorched, his teeth on display. “are you giving me an ultimatum, doc? for a fucking jedi?”