My muse has been kidnapped for experimental 'research.' After months of searching, yours has finally found mine. How does your muse react to the condition mine is in?

If the Lord don’t forgive me I’d still have my baby and my babe would have me When I was kissing on my baby And she put her love down soft and sweet In the lowland plot I was free Heaven and hell were words to me

STARS. THE FINAL EXPLORE-Y PLACE. THESE ARE THE TRIP THINGS OF THE SPACEBOAT ENTERPIPES. ITS FIVE YEAR JOB THINGY: TO HANG OUT IN STRANGE NEW PLACES, TO HAVE DINNER WITH ALIENS AND SHIT, TO VAGUELY WANDER IN THAT DIRECTION LIKE NO ONE HAS DONE BEFORE.

» indie au!rp for bioshock’s atlas » multi-fandom, verse, ship & oc friendly » 7 years roleplay experience ; 2+ on tumblr » icon, gif and/or para formatting; mirrored to your replies » askbox memes, open starters and plotting always available

[clingy hug, he hides his face against George]

Daddy why are they fighting?

Oh, buddy, [George sighs, wrapping one arm around Jim and smoothing over his hair.]

They're not fighting, they're just... having a disagreement. A little misunderstanding, is all.

He sighs, looking away from (oddly enough)  the dismantled communications system from his ship splayed out before him. “Very well, c o m m u n i c a t e .”

"Uh, yeah," George clears his throat, leaning against a workbench as he runs a hand over his chin. "Okay."

He takes a slow breath and then: "What's going on with you and Jor?"

Jor nods. George was always so right. Putting everything in to just the right words. He had a way of connecting to people that Jor couldn’t match. “Well, although I do wish to talk this out, I still do not want to be the one to approach. I really think he should come to me instead…” He murmurs that last bit, like he was embarrassed to think that his frustration was still so justified.

After a little pause, he sweetly starts again, “George…” quiet, cautious in his inquiry. Jor’s hands reach his partner’s, wanting to connect, “Would you say yes?…Would you marry me?”

It's a heavy talk they're having but George still can't help the gentle smile on his lips at Jor's reply. "Stuff like this isn't fun to talk about ever. Doesn't mean you shouldn't, though." With a lick of his lips, nod of his head and flick of his brow, the blond shrugs. "Well, sitting around and worrying, waiting for someone to come around isn't exactly the adult thing to do, is it?"

But he takes Jor's hands all the same, no matter the odd bundle of emotions in his chest and keeps that smile at the sound of his name. Which falls some at the blindsiding question as he stares, sorting out a now confused, rambunctious bundle of emotions in his chest.

"Marry you... hypothetically or, you know--actually?" He pauses, but not long enough to give any doubt: "Because the answer's the same for both." The addition comes with a bright, cockeyed smile.

This is going to sound really weird, but my ferret’s on that shelf up there. Do you mind grabbing it?

A fer--ferret?...Uh.

--Is it going to bite me?

"—-Yes. Because whether or not I exaggerated how many times you’ve come back is the real point," she deadpans, a shake of her head following the statement before brown eyes move back down to her shoes, arms crossing across her chest as if maybe that’ll be the thing that helps hold her together through all of this. Because really if this keeps on, Allie knows she’ll give into anything partly from hating how much he’s hurting. "Oh George," his name falls off of her lips like a prayer and before Allie can register her movements she’s crossed the room to him, a palm resting upon his cheek as she tries to look into his eyes as best she can. "I never gave up on you, I just—, I gave up on us. You and I, we were foolish to think this was going to work. But we gave it our best effort and that’s the best we could have done. It was good while it lasted, but love, sometimes there are no-win scenarios.” We’re in one.

"Okay, it's not, but it makes a difference as subtle as it is. The reasons why I've gone, why I come back makes a difference." George's voice is a little sterner-though no less vulnerable--speaking his last utterance, feeling as though assumptions are being made. Then again her arms crossing sat ill with him, if only from other uncomfortable instances a lifetime ago now.

At least until she says his name, closes that godawful space between them and touches him. George takes delight in it, in the soothing the affection gives his hurt. He even leans his head into it, shuts his eyes for a moment with sorrowful pitch of a knitted brow while a hand comes up to feel over hers. And despite the returning twinge he turns to nuzzle her palm, not daring to press a kiss or lace their fingers. "It feels like you did.

"I don't...  understand how you can give up on us but not on me too. I'm apart of us. Us, what we are now--or what we were trying to be... we can try to go back to what it was before, but it's gonna kill me, Allie." He finishes with hitching breath and trailing voice. "I'll waste away. Because you're all I have anymore and I don't feel... lost, with you."

"There’s nothing left to say, George. Everything I feel, or felt, has already been laid out to you repeatedly after the last ten times you’ve come back." Finally turning around, Allie’s eyes are sad as she shrugs. "I’m out of things to say to you and I’m not going to waste my breath on things that aren’t even going to mean anything."

"You know, that was one of the hardest things I had to deal with in the Alliance — sometimes you have to admit when you can’t win. You have to take the loss knowing you’ve tried your damnedest which is what I’ve done." There’s a sinking feeling in the former Commander’s stomach as she speaks, wondering if this is how their last conversation is going to go. Part of her wants to forgive him, wants to take him back without any argument but she knows it’ll only be a matter of time before he’s gone again. And that thought is what propels her to give up.

"That's--ten is exaggerating, a little bit." The words are wounded because he is too, heart aching with every second and aired word. George bites his lip, listening and letting her voice sink into him, slowly let it tear him apart from the inside out. Because he wants to interject, cut to the part where he tells her how he feels and work out the kinks and damage without all this agonizing knife twisting.

And then his heart catches in his throat at his next thought, when she finishes speaking. "I don't believe in no-win scenarios," George barely gets out. "Not when it doesn't look like there's an option to be had or--or, even when I fuck up so tremendously people... give up on me." Head shaking, he takes a sharp breath. "Allie--I'm sorry."

Oh my how the tables have tabled