stand_unshaken | IC Inbox

"I know," he says, hoarsely, as he trudges on. "I know. ew weeks before I came here, I woulda argued with you on that point, but I know."

It’s been novel, in a way, spending so much time with a man who looks back. One who doesn’t just make the past off-limits. Harping on him to move on almost feels cruel, so she bites it back.

“Alright, so start thinking of plans,” she informs him. “Otherwise I’ll have to come back with you and make sure you don’t become a loner.”

She spots the big long crack in the rock and crouches a bit to look at it.

"You say that like I'd mind your company."

He leans a shoulder against the rock wall and looks at her, looking at the crack.

"See how I put up with camping out first and then you decide how much you mind," she replies, playful, her attention still on the rock face. Better to dull the smile she can't resist, too. Imagine that, knowing someone almost always up for her company.

She idly wonders if she's going to get bit by a snake or a bat if she just sticks her arm in, but she supposes there's no way to know but to try.

He sees that smile and doesn't comment, but he flicks his own nose with his thumb. Sometimes he's just got a feeling like he's doing something right.

No way to know but try-- and when she reaches into that crack she's rewarded for her inquisitive mind with the feeling of cloth.

She pulls it out. She's not sure what she was expecting as far as treasure, but it certainly wasn't fabric, and she gives it a cursory look before unrolling it. Another map, this one with twiggy trees and little smoking volcanos. Geysers? Whatever the fire version of a geyser is?

She glances at Arthur sidelong.

"They got you running over to Yellowstone or something for treasure?" she asks, amused.

There's a little pouch behind it, too, which comes along a little when she pulls out the next map. Arthur crouches next to her and nods at the crack.

"Who's 'they'? Get your treasure, Tess."

It's a bracelet and a necklace from very fine material - that will disintegrate when they leave the Enclosure, but still.

“Whoever left this behind,” she replies, sticking her hand back in to get it. She empties the pouch into her palm and chuckles. “This real precious metal? Must be real.”

"Real in the sense that none of this is real, but sure," he says, trying not to wrap his head around it.

"Think this is some gang's map, and they hid bits and pieces everywhere. Not sure what happened to 'em."

Hey, count yourself lucky he's not recreating the gruesome murders he stumbled upon!

The gruesome murders would be run of the mill, at least.

“I mean it’s not cheap metal plated with something else, or plastic pearls,” she replies. She tips them back into the bag. “They must have been wiped out if they left all this unclaimed.”

"You're likely right. You have to be strong to survive intact."

He straightens up, groaning when his back cracks. Getting old. "You did good."

She pockets the bag and stands up straight again, dusting off her hands. Bizarre, touching earth.

“Wasn’t that hard,” she remarks, though she smiles. Compliments! “Smugglers use caches too. Our maps are just a bit more... legible, I guess.”

"Most people in my time can't read or write," he explains. "They gotta rely on drawing things like that."

Colour her surprised.

“Really? Huh,” she replies. “I mean, even when drawn —— buildings look a whole lot more specific than a tree.”

"Well, can't hide all your treasure in towns. How 'bout you take a picture of that map, and we can do the next step next time?"

Can in her world!

“Sure.”

Tess fishes her communicator out of her pocket to do just that. And then she thinks of something, communicator still in hand.

“Hey. Take a picture with me.”

He looks up from where he'd been putting his gloves into a pocket, now that he's no longer climbing, and looks pleasantly surprised.

"--sure. How d'you want to?"

She grins, reaching to link her free arm with his and step in close. She holds the communicator up with the other hand, selfie style.

“Say cheese.”

"I-- sure? Cheese," he says, not understanding the prompt but gladly obliging. Cameras obviously can't do this in his day and age, and he wonders what this will even look like.

But he understands the gesture. Wanting to remember a moment.

She laughs and takes the photo.

“It supposedly makes you look more natural.”

She turns the communicator so they can look at the resulting photo.

He's leaning up against her, one hand on her shoulder for balance, to look at the photo. He snorts a quick laugh when he sees it, huffing it out.

"Don't we make a fine pair?"

He still can't stop being amazed at the technology behind all of this.

“We do,” she agrees, pocketing the communicator again. It’s nice to hear him laugh, too, and she has the fleeting thought that she lucked out here in a lot of ways. “A lifetime ago I used to take these all the time.”

He grins a little and pulls away with another little clap to her shoulder.

"I can actually see why. Kinda nice, a memory like that."

"Yeah," she replies, and she smiles at him sidelong. "Used to keep thousands of pictures that way, just scroll through whenever I wanted. Not quite as personal as a journal, but it does the trick."

"I like that idea too. If I could do 'em both I'd be happy as a clam."

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