( I Must Go Seaward. ) 63!Yancy Becket ✥ Open Post

[anchorages]

❝Knot the tie and go to work, unknot the tie and go to sleep. I sleep. I dream. I wake. I sing. I get out the hammer and start knocking in the wooden pegs that affix the meaning to the landscape, the inner life to the body, the names to the things. I float too much to wander, like you, in the real world. I envy it but that’s the dealio—you’re a train and I’m a train station and when I try to guess your trajectory I end up telling my own story.❞

Comments

( TEXT. )

[anchorages]

[jockeying]

some guy just asked if i had a scary older brother he needed to worry about, so i told him i had you and that we kept you chained in the basement and fed you annoying solicitors growin up.

1/2

[anchorages]

RUDE!

2/2

[anchorages]

wait, what guy?

[jockeying]

a dude jaeger fly. he had hearts in his eyes too yancy, it was kind of cute. but now he's convinced I'd raise our kids like sloth from the goonies

this ones a phone call because I say so

[jockeying]

[ also because singing isn't properly transmitted via text message ]

Happy birthday to me,
Happy birthday to me,
Happy twenty-first biiirth-day dear Raleigh-Becket-who-is-awesome-and-has-saved-the-world-four-times
Now buy me a drink~

[ maybe she'll go into the music industry once they retire. her voice only cracked, like, three times. ]

oh no this is gonna get kawaii

[anchorages]

[There is something about her sister's voice that is completely charming, even with its little imperfections. Hearing it makes her smile.]

I got the hint, Rals.

Does this mean you'll finally try something that's NOT a fruity monstrosity now?

aw yes just as planned

[jockeying]

I'll drink fruity monstrosities if I want to and I'll take 50 shots of fireball if I want to. the point is that I can drink all that and more LEGALLY at a bar and that you're paying ol lady

( ACTION/PROSE. )

[anchorages]

[somethingreallystupid]

[If there's one thing Herc hates about traveling, it's jet lag. So as everyone in Anchorage is getting up or ending the overnight shift at 5am, Herc is blearily trying to wake himself up from thinking it's 1am the next day.

It's awkward.

He manages to get up and out of the room they provided for him and Scott, and even manages to kick Scott out of bed in the process, but he's just out of it enough to get completely lost in the hallways.

Shit.

This is the part where a reasonable person would ask for directions, but no way is Herc doing that.]

[anchorages]

[To say that she just woke up would be a gross exaggeration. Sure, she's been moving around and out of her bunk for the past three hours, but she can hardly qualify as being fully attentive, fully awake. She keeps rubbing her eyes and her mascara is smearing and her yawns are horribly aggrandized. There should be no mistaking that Yancy is not a morning person. Everyone in the Anchorage base ("the ice box," they called it) knew this to be true.

But she's up for a reason. The Australian envoy was slated for arrival today. And there's no way she'd miss that (no way she'd miss him).

When she gets to the mess hall, she's still moving a bit rigidly, hair tussled and and shoulders sore with sleep as she wrestles with the coffee machine. Damned, this thing was old! It hissed and sputtered at her and she bites back her frustrated groan. What the hell - she can recite complicated J-tech with flying colors but she can't deal with a shitty little Keurig? Bull fucking shit.

In fact, she is so engrossed with her current task at hand that she doesn't even notice him at first. He seems to blend into the muted greens and grays of the Shatterdome walls, completely bypassing her attention. Odd, considering his outline, his voice, and his presence has been on her mind for all this time. It's been months since the last time she's seen his face or felt the way the callouses on his palms move along the contours of her skin. And she's missed him. But, they both had jobs to do and the world was rushing towards its own end so any semblance of romanticism had to wait.

Yancy is used to being patient by now.]

[somethingreallystupid]

[It takes him way too long to find it, but find it he does, following his nose and the tide of people in various states of wakefulness.

He's just getting his bacon when he turns and sees her, bright shock of blonde hair shining against the dull metallic mess hall.

Against his still struggling to wake up mind, he smiles a little and wanders over to her.]

There's my girl.

[anchorages]

[The curl of his accent is so telling. She freezes and immediately straightens, her hair cascading down one shoulder (it's been a long time since she's cut it, now). Her beauty is artless but youthful and fresh.]

Herc. [His name feels dry in her throat but the moment of weakness is fleeting. Immediately, that crowd pleasing, magnanimous smile brightens her face. Her heart - thrilled and full of daring, had held its breath for a moment or two - began suddenly to beat quite wildly.] I thought you weren't getting in until later. [That's a boldfaced lie. But she was feeling a little sheepish about not realizing he was already close enough to touch.

And oh, touch. How she missed it!

Immediately, like the surge of a hurricane, she closes the distance between them, throwing her arms around his neck in a burst of spontaneity that echoed her brother's rashness. Yancy has always been an aggressive sort of girl, the sort that never learned the meaning of hesitation or reticence. Though they had agreed to keep their relationship (or...whatever it was. Let's not label it, right?) relatively placid under the public eye, Yancy decided that the strong musk of him and the solid weight of him against her chest again - even for just a few seconds - was worth breaking "the rules", temporarily.]

[somethingreallystupid]

[The hug is surprising, and he almost drops his tray, but he laughs and wraps his free arm around her waist, the smell of her hair as bright as the color as he presses his face to it.

God, he missed her. Like an ache in the chest it was, stilled only by the sight of her again. The hug's enough for now, until he gets some breakfast in him and figures out what's going on for the day and if they'll have time for some privacy at some point.]

Got in yesterday. Had just enough time to put our stuff down and get some sleep otherwise I would've looked for you earlier.

[anchorages]

Could have at least called or something. [But she's teasing him. That much is evident in the way that she worries her bottom lip, showing a brief flash of lightening-white teeth, as if she would like nothing better than to bite into the flesh above his heart, feel the pulse of him under her tongue once more.]

How's Chuckles, by the way? [Because Rangers come in pairs. Their selves have been extended into the lives of others. They are never simply "I" or "me" but "we" and "us" and "together". This is the language of their charge, of their duty. Therefore, it is par for the course that she would concern herself with the well-being of Herc's son. After all, she could sometimes tell more of him just through the way he relates to the boy. That was the trick: the revelation of the self through the mirror of someone else. Yancy knows this all too well. Nowadays, she can never be quite sure where it is that she begins and her brother ends.]

[somethingreallystupid]

[With some regret, he pulls himself away, because people are watching, and if they hold on any longer it'll look... well. He pulls away. They can catch up on those things later.

He makes a face at the nickname for his son, but only because he knows all too well what his reaction to it would be if he heard it. His face breaks into a smirk afterwards.]

If he hears you calling him that again, he's gonna punch you, and I'm not gonna stop him.

[anchorages]

[His restraint is a reminder to her and she straightens her own back, the aura of military imposed on her spine. Though there is an impulsivity to her, a childishness that she hasn't fully abdicated, Yancy knows how to control herself. She knows how best to present herself in the public eye. It's one of her many talents (and one that didn't really translate to Raleigh, unfortunately).]

He's welcome to try. [She throws a glance at him for the latter part of his playful threat, as she finally decides to sit down at a table.] But we all know he's never been able to best me in the kwoon. He's getting better though, that's for sure. [Fun fact: Yancy's also had the pleasure of arm wrestling all the Hansens on separate occasions - and winning.]

[somethingreallystupid]

[He nods, almost imperceptibly, at her posture, a silent approval.

Herc follows her to the table, slides his tray down and sits casually, poking at his breakfast with his fork as he answers, inspecting the meal.]

Cheeky bastard thinks he's already better than everyone else. Dunno where he gets that from.

( OTHER. )

[anchorages]