"Nah. Left a lot of that behind me," he explains as they head into Fall's End. A water tower looms overhead with the name of the town written lazily on it. A few buildings - a general store, a bar, a smattering of homes and shops - are scattered around the main road. The church is down the way.
"But everything just seems so - fucking bland. Like Dorothy before she went for a ride in that twister. Out here, it's a little less..."
"I figure that's part of the intention behind it," she admits as she keeps walking along with him, "give people the opportunity to color it in themselves."
He doesn't sound convinced. The things that haunt him are louder here, not in the Enclosure, but here in this afterlife. He doesn't have control, feels like everything is slipping out of his fingers and out of his grasp.
Lark told him that he'd end up losing control here, spilling his secrets, giving people exactly what they want.
"Told you I was in the war, didn't I?" he starts out, trailing his fingers along the top of the music box before it gets replaced in his pocket.
"Did two tours before they sent me home with a 'fuck you' for my trouble. I was the one who closed up those big graves. Pretty sure they weren’t dead, but - " He frowns as they walk. He just followed orders. A good little soldier. Stuffing the feelings down to make it work.
They pass the bar and general store but he doesn't give them a second look.
"While I was there, a buddy of mine got stuck in the desert together. IED went off, blew everyone to hell. We were two hundred kilometers from the nearest civilization and they - thought we were dead."
Jacob doesn't look at her. "Miller was his name. We walked for nearly ten days in that sand. It was - fucking endless. I knew he wasn't going to make it. He was slowing down and keeping us back. So I killed him. Used him to survive. You know what human flesh tastes like? I do."
So he doesn't understand why the Admiral would bring him back. He had been free from the nightmares and the darkness and the slog. Now he's back, with no purpose, no control, and nothing save for what he can salvage for himself.
There are, in Saga's experience, a surprising number of reasons why someone might tell you they've consumed human flesh. The fact that they're in what feels like the middle of nowhere is not lost on her; she wonders if he's even put together some of the connotations around the fact that he's a foot taller than her at least, has a hundred pounds on her, brought her to a remote location and now he's talking about killing and eating people.
She doesn't actually think so. But she doesn't miss that either.
He didn't like doing it. It was survival. But there is a reason that he doesn't miss a meal. That he carries his water with him.
Also, in this moment, she isn't a person. She's a sounding board. Someone as faceless and nameless as the people at home. He doesn't look at her, doesn't give her a designation, hasn't said her name at all.
He whistles sharply and Mae turns, returning to his side and trotting there as he walks.
"I wish I was given the choice. Just another fucking facet of my life to endure."
"That's part of it," she says, "but not all of it. What do you do if you can't leave your cabin? Do you have a cabin routine? What about if there's a dangerous situation on board? During a port?"
She spreads her hand towards him.
"You have your set routine, but setting up alternate paths for some other situations will give you guidance when you can't stick to that routine. You're still on the rails."
"Start your routine with checking the network every morning," she says, "and that tells you which routine you'll be following for the day: normal, cabin, or emergency. Normal, you've already got."
She gestures towards him.
"Cabin, you might need to find a project or a hobby that you can do in your cabin and what your plan is for Mae in that case. Emergency might include checking in with people you care about, threat assessment, and a path for 'out of my pay grade' or 'actionable'."
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A glance around.
"Why come here if you wanted to get unstuck?"
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"And I came here because I like it here."
Mae runs off ahead of them, barking at a squirrel.
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"Where is here, incidentally?"
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He gestures ahead. "That's John's church."
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He sniffs. "This is where John could get land."
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"But everything just seems so - fucking bland. Like Dorothy before she went for a ride in that twister. Out here, it's a little less..."
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He doesn't sound convinced. The things that haunt him are louder here, not in the Enclosure, but here in this afterlife. He doesn't have control, feels like everything is slipping out of his fingers and out of his grasp.
Lark told him that he'd end up losing control here, spilling his secrets, giving people exactly what they want.
"Told you I was in the war, didn't I?" he starts out, trailing his fingers along the top of the music box before it gets replaced in his pocket.
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cw: war stuff, cannibalism
They pass the bar and general store but he doesn't give them a second look.
"While I was there, a buddy of mine got stuck in the desert together. IED went off, blew everyone to hell. We were two hundred kilometers from the nearest civilization and they - thought we were dead."
Jacob doesn't look at her. "Miller was his name. We walked for nearly ten days in that sand. It was - fucking endless. I knew he wasn't going to make it. He was slowing down and keeping us back. So I killed him. Used him to survive. You know what human flesh tastes like? I do."
So he doesn't understand why the Admiral would bring him back. He had been free from the nightmares and the darkness and the slog. Now he's back, with no purpose, no control, and nothing save for what he can salvage for himself.
Re: cw: war stuff, cannibalism
She doesn't actually think so. But she doesn't miss that either.
"Do you wish he'd thought of it first?"
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Also, in this moment, she isn't a person. She's a sounding board. Someone as faceless and nameless as the people at home. He doesn't look at her, doesn't give her a designation, hasn't said her name at all.
He whistles sharply and Mae turns, returning to his side and trotting there as he walks.
"I wish I was given the choice. Just another fucking facet of my life to endure."
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"Why'd you join the military?"
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He turns to the church and walks in, leading with no expectation of following. Mae gets treats along the way for staying close.
"Military seemed like the best plan when I turned 18."
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And she follows along behind him, into the church.
"'Considering' your age, or were there extenuating circumstances?"
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He spreads out his hands, dropping into a pew.
"I told my lawyer everything. My age helped. Meant I wasn't tried as an adult."
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"Bingo."
He lets out a breath.
"Shrinks used to say that I needed to find my own structure. Make lists. Have a routine. Routine don't work here."
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She leans back, not as far, but far enough to look over.
"You're getting caught on the weird. Bring it down. Brass tacks. What can you control and what can you not control. What are your resources?"
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She might notice now at this proximity that he is unarmed.
"Got my phone with an alarm. A dog that needs walks. Job at the gym with regular shifts and a boss that might get it. That what you mean?"
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"That's part of it," she says, "but not all of it. What do you do if you can't leave your cabin? Do you have a cabin routine? What about if there's a dangerous situation on board? During a port?"
She spreads her hand towards him.
"You have your set routine, but setting up alternate paths for some other situations will give you guidance when you can't stick to that routine. You're still on the rails."
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He finally, for the first time in a while, looks at her. Sees her.
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She gestures towards him.
"Cabin, you might need to find a project or a hobby that you can do in your cabin and what your plan is for Mae in that case. Emergency might include checking in with people you care about, threat assessment, and a path for 'out of my pay grade' or 'actionable'."
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