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( philip. )

                    trevor, opposite of what one would expect out of a seventeen - almost - eighteen year old boy ( nobody knows JUST HOW OLD his soul is. philip has only gotten an idea of the depth, the wise knowledge of a soul a century older than his own ), has been a rather quiet guest. probably preferred to the noise of a home with parents who fight. parents who try to force a certain way of life upon someone who could be, by all intents and purposes, their great grandparent. it would be easier on all of them if people knew the truth … but instead, philip offered out SANCTUARY to the other traveler. a junkie squatter and a high school jock shack up in secret headquarters. the beginning to a long, long story.

                    philip walks in upon an interesting sight; trevor meditates often, yes, but never with poppy … until now. a half smile tugs at one corner of his mouth. slow to approach, absorbing the scene before him, philip steps up to the counter and sets a white paper baggy down. mcdonalds. a burger for trevor, but philip decided to get CHICKEN NUGGETS this time. with something new. ranch dipping sauce. he hasn’t been brave enough to taste it yet … but he’s gotten extra for trevor too, so they can try out something new together. drink holder occupies other hand. a water and a coke. trevor can pick out which one he wants, and philip will take the left - over.

                    ❝ imposing your old habits on my poor, defenseless turtle now, huh? … i got us lunch. and a white dip. you have to at least stick your finger in it. i was reading about the ingredients online. it’s made with buttermilk. people in the twenty - first are … inventive, to say the least. ❞

           ❝meditation is a timeless art.❞ trevor didn't look up initially as he spoke, gaze fixed on poppy and finger lightly tapping at the glass, however, when the word 'lunch' hit his hears he came to attention. ( ah, youthful metabolism ). a crooked smile upturned his lips as he reached for the bag on the counter. ❝thanks.❞ the smell of ground beef ( not actually from the ground ) was one with which he was quickly familiarized, and greatly enjoyed. not many other travelers took to meat like trevor had; he was embracing the twenty-first century.

          ❝that they are,❞ he agreed in regards to this century's free and imaginative creation with food. they had the ability to be, after all. who wouldn't get inspired? setting the burger down in his lap trevor searched out the dipping sauce, tearing off the plastic cover and sticking his finger in for a sample. he was always happy to be a guinea pig for new flavors.

          naturally, it didn't take much to impress him and earn his stamp of approval, so the smile that crosses his face once the sauce has been tasted is almost immediate. one found enjoyment easily in the small things when they were used to eating protein packed, recycled, highly processed grime for over a century. ❝it's good,❞ he said, handing the small container over to philip to test for himself.

          silence spanned on for a few moments as he allowed himself to indulge in the burger ( always so satisfying to eat, but so disappointing to finish ). ❝you should try it,❞ trevor began, folding the napkin that held his burger into neat, tiny squares. ❝meditating. i can teach you.❞

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TRAVELERS

philip pearson / trevor holden text posts

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philip fits his hand inside trevor's and gives the other boy's palm a squeeze.

           bucket lists tended to get awfully long when one came up on old age. or at least they did if your life wasn't lived working towards a single goal. trevor's bucket list consisted of the mission: return to the 21st, deflect helios, celebrate. and then the helios mission passed, more missions came in, and the future as they knew it had changed.

           getting shot, perhaps, wasn't an ideal contender for belonging on one's bucket list ( probably because it normally would put an abrupt END to the list ). but getting shot, pointblank by a shotgun no less, and SURVIVING -- even without sweet nanite tech -- he could create a bucket list, add the experience, and check it off. for posterity, if nothing else.

          a life goal completed, nearly losing teammates, getting tortured, growing a spare heart inside his body, nearly dying on the floor of an old barn while chaos fell around him. he'd lived through a lot, mentally he was a fortress, and physically he was sturdier than he'd felt in a hundred years ----- but it was still a lot. even HE needed a break. ( and everyone was inclined, even insistent, that he take breaks and get rest, so there was a bonus ).

           and the best place to hide out away from it all? oddly enough, the center of their operations. for being their base it was almost always empty, save for philip and poppy. and philip and poppy were preferable company. and, trevor recalled as philip took his hand, they had more experience to share. centuries of knowledge and experiences wasn't a burden trevor would wish on most, but as a historian philip carried that burden. now both of them also shared the delightful ordeal that was getting blasted in the gut and having to recover the hard way.

trevor returned the squeeze, probably significantly weaker than it felt to him, and smiled.

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( @namedstorms | philip. )

          'i need a couch to crash on.' that's how it started. originally he intended merely for a night, long enough for GARY to cool down. since missions started coming back in his stay was extended. it was easier to be briefed quickly this way ( and apparently not uncommon for his host to be gone days at a time. his parents hadn't text or called more than twice. )

          he sat cross legged atop the counter, facing poppy's enclosure. the people of this century took everything for granted, never stopped to appreciate the little things; not even a beautiful, living thing like a TURTLE. even sitting, watching her move about or not at all for any length of time proved to be quite meditative. brown eyes barely glanced upward as another presence entered, the procurer and single occupant ( the last week withstanding ) of their base.

          ❝she's a natural.❞ he started, voice low and hands leaving from their resting place on top of his knees. his eyes followed philip a moment before looking back to poppy, tapping lightly on the glass as she crawled slowly alongside the wall.

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travelers drinking game: take one shot every time trevor is hit in the head

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Trevor Holden appreciation    [Traveler #0115] “…technically I’ll be 18 in October but, I’m kind of an old soul…”

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travelers drinking game: take one shot every time trevor is hit in the head

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                                     ❛can't trevor and philip be friends?❜                        ❛you're at least a hundred years older than me.❜

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Philip and Trevor for aliceinthesunligh.

bonus:

because i like how they look at each other :D

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I hope Poppy is okay

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Trevor and Philip not caring about sexuality.

requested by anon

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Traveler 0115: Trevor Holden, the Engineer

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