039 - French Apple Cream Cheese
Jun. 23rd, 2014 10:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
deadly_ned[Spam for Crichton]
[The facts were these.
Six hours, fourteen minutes, and eleven seconds ago, the lights on the Barge had gone out. Holding his breath in the middle of his dark room, the Piemaker considered what this might mean for him. In the regular, normal, sane world he arrived from, a light going out could mean anything from someone about to bring in a birthday cake lit with candles, to a neglected electricity bill. Most scenarios were generic and harmless.
This was the Barge, where every disturbance in the status quo usually met catastrophe. The Piemaker half expected to go up on deck and see a gigantic Leviathan wrapped around the ship and attempting to drag it out of the skies.
He set his hand on Digby's head and scratched the playful golden retriever's head with care. His pack was kept close, in the inevitable but still regretful promised future occurrence of being sucked out of the Barge and unceremoniously dumped onto the port authority building's roof.
Six hours later, and this was more or less how it happened.
The Piemaker stirred, shifting in the dank dark dampness of the cavern. His arm was flopped over the face of another, bare skin touching a nose, lips, eyebrows. The Piemaker tended not to pass out gracefully.
He sat up slowly, pulling his offending arm back. Why the Admiral couldn't simply dock was a challenge for another day.
He turned to address his neighbor, and....stopped.
Horrified silence came next.
For lying next to him was astronaut and friend John Crichton, whom the Piemaker had touched back ot life and who he had made sworn never to come near him again, lest Crichton lose his alive-again gift and suffer the death toll anyway.
And his hand - his bare hand - was touching Crichton's face.
The Piemaker let out a low, soft groan of regret, guilt, and misery.]
No, no no, no.
[He whispered, grasping the man by his shirt.]
Oh no. Oh god, I'm so....so sorry. John, I'm sorry.
I've...I've killed you.
[The facts were these.
Six hours, fourteen minutes, and eleven seconds ago, the lights on the Barge had gone out. Holding his breath in the middle of his dark room, the Piemaker considered what this might mean for him. In the regular, normal, sane world he arrived from, a light going out could mean anything from someone about to bring in a birthday cake lit with candles, to a neglected electricity bill. Most scenarios were generic and harmless.
This was the Barge, where every disturbance in the status quo usually met catastrophe. The Piemaker half expected to go up on deck and see a gigantic Leviathan wrapped around the ship and attempting to drag it out of the skies.
He set his hand on Digby's head and scratched the playful golden retriever's head with care. His pack was kept close, in the inevitable but still regretful promised future occurrence of being sucked out of the Barge and unceremoniously dumped onto the port authority building's roof.
Six hours later, and this was more or less how it happened.
The Piemaker stirred, shifting in the dank dark dampness of the cavern. His arm was flopped over the face of another, bare skin touching a nose, lips, eyebrows. The Piemaker tended not to pass out gracefully.
He sat up slowly, pulling his offending arm back. Why the Admiral couldn't simply dock was a challenge for another day.
He turned to address his neighbor, and....stopped.
Horrified silence came next.
For lying next to him was astronaut and friend John Crichton, whom the Piemaker had touched back ot life and who he had made sworn never to come near him again, lest Crichton lose his alive-again gift and suffer the death toll anyway.
And his hand - his bare hand - was touching Crichton's face.
The Piemaker let out a low, soft groan of regret, guilt, and misery.]
No, no no, no.
[He whispered, grasping the man by his shirt.]
Oh no. Oh god, I'm so....so sorry. John, I'm sorry.
I've...I've killed you.
(no subject)
Date: 2014-07-15 05:24 pm (UTC)Knew you could make it!
[He almost claps Ned on the shoulder but stops short just before doing it. Uh uh, bad habit to get into, even if he's safe for the moment.]
Alright. That's hurdle one. We better wind up that rope and get moving. Lot more to go before we are out if this mess.
[ooc: I'm thinking time skip if we want to keep going?]
(no subject)
Date: 2014-07-16 04:15 am (UTC)[the Piemaker gives a shaky grin at the catch, heart pounding. He nods, turning to wind up the rope]
Onward and upward.
[Before they both die horribly, is the unstated sentence]