Anxiety In Real Time



Scene Title Anxiety in Real Time
Synopsis It's the same afraid I've felt before.
Date June 19, 2021

Something about the meeting with the Council of Captains had left a bad taste in Robyn Roux's mouth. Maybe it was the lack of any real resolution, maybe it was the fact that it had ever happened in the first place. She knows that the people of the Pelago are right to distrust her and hers.

That doesn't make it any less aggravating.

Particularly when she has work to do.

The Pelago
Robyn's Room

June 15th

Work that can't particularly wait for her to build relationships and forge bonds with the other denizens of ther new home, however temporary - ot not - it may end up being. Hoisting up a bad on to a chair in her room, she flips it over and begins to inspect the contents - a notebook, two pencils, a pen that somehow hadn't dried out, a knife for just in case, and some smoked fish and what was supposedly jerky in case she got hungry before she got back for her set tomorrow evening.

She has her doubts about the jerky, among other things.

The goal is simple: Track down Robyn Roux. Well, the native Robyn Roux - as much as people tell her she needs to find herself, this is not the time or the place. Nor, really, how literal she ever expected that particular piece of advice to become.

It's a small list of tasks she has ahead of her, of places to go and people to talk to:

Nadira/Kendall (again?)
The Sil(?)
Else… :(

It's not a great list, but it's somewhere to start. She doesn't have a lot of time, likely, and she doesn't want to have to argue with anyone about waiting to leave for Alaska until she can find… herself.

Not only would it get her branded as continuing to be difficult, it would open her up to a brand new array of jokes she already doesn't care for conceptually.

So, it's a place to start… tomorrow. For now, rest, and preparing herself for the places she's about to go to, and the faces she's about to see.

The Pelago

June 16th

There's too many docks scattered across the Pelago, but Robyn can't be certain what else she expected. Everything is water, of course there's what feels like a million docs. These ones reminds her of the ones around the edges of New York back home, where the houseboats are often kept.

Which, appropriately, is most of what she sees docked here. There's few people out and about, likely either out working or shunning the rain - Robyn herself regrets having to be out in the rain and wind, but this is something she needs to be doing either way.

Holding her umbrella right, it's when she finally spots one woman - and her dog - on the deck of their boat that she steps over and up to it's edge. "Excuse me, Ms., do you have a moment?"


Erin Gordon, of this world anyway, winds up and pitches an old, matted tennis ball into the sea. A well-kept Australian Shepherd follows, clearing half the distance easily airborne. She turns as the dog completes its task, the two seemingly oblivious to the weather, and regards the woman on the docks. One of the travelers, right?

“Sure.” She replies casually, turning back as the dog splashes back up onto the dock the houseboat is lashed to and bounds back up onto the deck, shaking off the saltwater in a grand display of futility. “You’re…one of the Robyns, right?”

Robyn's expression sours immediately. She's taken slightly aback; while many know there's travellers in town few folks have directly called her out on it like that. "Y-yes," she stammers out in a way that matches her surprise, before straightening her posture and adjusting something that isn't there at her neck. "Robyn Quinn," she offers, which still feels weirder to say than it should.

"I've been trying to find my counterpart, I was wondering if you had seen her at all lately?" It's an honest question at least, and hopefully one that doesn't beg deeper questions.

Erin reads the situation and softens. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. The travelers I've interacted with are kind of blase about it, but then, I tend to only see them one-on-one. Nice to meet you, Robyn Quinn. Any…” She trails off and ponders whether to make the obvious joke. “Any relation to Harley? Sorry. That was probably stupid.”

Erin steps off the deck and onto the dock, where Colin follows. His tail is wagging excitedly, the toy in his mouth a clear beacon for FRIEND TIME (which is Erin’s only complaint about him, that he is not much for being a guard dog). And he is looking at Robyn with much expectation as he drips onto the weathered wood.

“I can’t say I know her very well, to be honest. I’ve seen her around the dock here and there, but I’m fairly new to the Pelago and I tend to spend most of my time in there.” She jabs a thumb behind her at the rickety houseboat. “What I can say is that I’ll see her for a few days in a row and then she’ll disappear for a few weeks. And, from what I’ve heard through the grapevine, that she survived the Ark, but you probably know that already. In hindsight, the two things could be related.”

Colin whimpers and waggles his whole butt. He takes two steps closer to Robyn. “And,” Erin grins, “that she will sometimes Throw The Toy for Colin. He’s irresistible. What a flirt.” Erin winks sloppily too, as the messy, wet Aussie deposits the very disgusting ball, more brown than green, at Robyn’s feet and gives her the epitome of please play with me eyes.

Erin's question just bubbles up memories of Magnes trying to get Quinn to dress up as Harley Quinn, and succeeding in making her dress up as Poison Ivy. It's enough to make her skin crawl, and were she not so focused, likely force into a dissociative state until the memories went the hell away again.

"You didn't upset me," is only not a lie insofar as whatever else Erin said didn't bother her. "I'm just not used to being so directly called out on it. The idea of there being more than one of me is… well, it's a new thing for me. Sort of." It's complicated, as it feels like everything in her life is these days.

The dog, though. That very much has her attention. "Oh, you're very big and very, very wet," is said with almost what sounds like fear in Robyn's voice. She swallows, kneeling down to pick up the ball. "I've never had a dog. Just a cat, and my ex-fiancé got her in the not-divorce. So she likes your dog? I bet you don't see many animals out here anymore. Colin, huh?"

Oh, the ball is disgusting, but Robyn still curls her fingers around it, looks for an appropriate spot, and throws. Not with all of her might, but with good bit of spin and a deel hope that the dog won't immediately come back up to them and decide to shake the water off himself. "I wonder where she's going that has her gone so much… I know she's looking for her mom. That's why I'm looking for her. Otherwise I'd leave her be for the sake of both our sanity."

Colin gratefully obliges both the throw and the distance. Erin watches him swim for a bit and then turns back. “I understand. I think. I was recently told that there is another one of me out there in another universe and that fucked me up. I wasn’t really sure I wanted to know what she was up to. It doesn’t sound like she’s particularly happy, though. And I might be alone with my dog, but at least I’m living on my own terms. I’m not sure this me would really enjoy being a cop. It sounds like other me doesn’t, either. So running into a different version of myself who doesn’t even have a dog seems…troubling.”

She bites her lip and absently unbuttons and re-buttons the middle button of her flannel with short-fingernailed, trim but worked hands. “I think I’d probably think I was having a delusional break, but it sounds like you’ve already considered that and you certainly don’t want input from some rando. Like I said, I don’t know her that well. She seems troubled. I actually was a little worried about her, so in some way, I’m glad you’ve come around.”

A shy crimson over her cheekbones appears and then fades, as she takes one step closer and holds out her right hand. “Sorry, I’ve been terribly rude. It’s like I’ve forgotten how to schmooze in my time since leaving the university. I’m Erin.”

A small, appreciative laugh escapes from Robyn as she reaches forward and takes Erin's hand. "I lost my ability to schmooze when I started working for the government where I came from." Not entirely true, but it's a good enough sanitization of the truth. "But before that? Well, let's just say I worked in the entertainment industry. Schmoozing was in my veins."

"Ah, but you already know my name, and I already know the dogs, so I have little to offer back in return." Robyn's lips curl into a bit of a smile as she shakes her head. "I can tell you with certainty that, if you're other self from where I'm from works as a cop in NYC… she's most likely a good person. So you can hold on to that, if you want." Shoulders slag slightly, smile turning sad. "We don't always get that lucky."

And then the smile fades again, Robyn looking up at the raining sky. "I'm slowly gathering that she's been troubled for a long while. I just hope she's understanding when I finally catch up with her."

Erin cocks her head, similar to the dog by her side, and gives Robyn a sad smile. “I hope so, too. It seems like you both could use a little bit of that understanding. If you ever want a semi-anonymous ear to talk to and drink some tea with, you can feel welcome to stop by. We’re not usually this rained-on, and it’s a nice enough view of the sunrises and sunsets all the way around.”

Pulling her notebook out of her bag, Robyn regards Erin with a look of curiosity, one that lingers longer than it should. "I may take you up on that," she finally says as she scrawls down notes in the margin. "We may be here for a long while, after all." Snapping the notebook shut, she looks up and offers the other woman a small, weak smile.

"Couldn't hurt to make some friends in the meantime."

Too bad her heart is clearly not behind those words.

The Pelago

June 16th, 2021

The Cerberus III is certainly a sight to behold, the closest to a monolithic presence to be found among the ships of the Pelago. It's intimidating to be near it for Robyn, even if it isn't her exact destination today. It's just… impossible to miss on the water, and while not at all the biggest boat she's been on compared to everything else it's truly something.

But she's not around for the ship itself. She's looking for the captain of the ship. There was a feeling she has, that the captains might be some of the best people to talk to about her quarry. Talking with Erin had made it clear that, of all places, the docks seem like a good place to look.

So here she is.

Hands in pockets, she scans docks for Ryans. Like so many others, she's wary of the conversation to be had. Ben Ryans had been a hero, and more personally, one of the folks who had helped train her on Pollepel. It was good to see him seemingly still thriving here.

Even with the weather, the boat is a flurry of activity. There is always work that needs doing, repairs and upkeep that need doing. There is one thing the crew had in common was a necklace with a medallion. Nothing pretty and crudely made, it has three marks like something clawed the surface.

It’s why the crew is often referred to as Hounds.

In the center of all the activity is a tall man, leaning on the support of a cane. It was unmistakably Captain Ryans. At the moment he stands with his head together with another, looking at a clipboard. Whatever they were discussing, Ben looked deeply concerned.

“You’re that new singer! Right?” A young voice pipes up from the deck of the ship. A lanky teen stares down at Robyn.



The deep familiar rumble of Ryans’ snaps sharply sends the teen quickly back to his own task with a shouted, “Yes, sir!”

If the interaction does anything it makes the ship's captain aware of a visitor. His attention remains half on Robyn while he says to the man with the clipboard. “Go over the fuel numbers again. And tell Sheppard he’s grounded until I can talk to Lowe, we have to conserve for important missions.” Message given, he dismisses the man with a jerk of his chin. Only then does he move towards Robyn.

"'That new singer', christ." Robyn can't help but smile at that, even as she shakes her head. "Well, I guess that's better than all the other things I could be known as here." She barely wants to admit it even to herself, but she likes it. She had forgotten the joy and recognition performance could bring her… and how addictive it is.

Still, there's Ryans, putting a quick end to her momentary reverie. Her posture straightens reflexively, looking to Ryan with a muted expression. "Ahoy!" she offers him, before pausing. "Ahoy, right? I don't really know how this works, I have to admit. Just now learning how t'be a boat person."

Or whatever this is here these days.

"Ben. I was hoping you had a moment for some questions, if you'r eopen to it." Glancing around the ship, she tenses a bit. "I don't have much to offer in return, but. Maybe there's something I can help with."

The Captain gives a wave of his hand in dismissal and a reassuring smile at her uncertainty. “Most of us had to learn as well, so don’t worry about it.” He definitely didn’t seem insulted about it. “Though we don’t really use.. Ahoy.” He offers with an amused chuckle. “Just a hello suffices. At least with this ship, as I can’t speak for other captains.”

Moving to rest both hands overlapped on the cane, Ryans leans towards her a little as if truly studying her. “As for questions… Well, that is a whole other thing. It depends on the question as to whether I even know the answer. I don’t really charge for simple questions, but information like the best fishing spots or salvage locations… well, that does cost.”

Straightening again, Ben asks, “So, Traveller, what can I do for you?”

The call out is met with a further straightening of her own posture, a hand moving to where a gun or a sword may have been at her side before she made the leap to the Flood. Finding nothing, it settles against her hip with a sigh. "Right. Guess I've watched too many movies back home. Ahoy certainly felt a bit cliche." A shake of her head and a small smile crosses her face, but it falters just as fast.

"Nothing simple, but nothing profitable. Not in any tangible manner, at least." Eyes flit to the ground and then back up, bringing herself to look Ryans in the eye after a moment. "I'm looking to find Robyn Roux," she offers. "And obviously, I don't mean me." Spreading her hands in front of her, she fixes her gaze on him in a much more steely manner - just in case this is about to turn into a negotiation. "To take her home to her mother. She's rather elusive, though. So I was wondering if you had seen her or knew anyone else I could talk to."

There is a soft, thoughtful hum at the question. It’s an interesting one that Benjamin doesn’t answer right away. Fingers scratch at a cheek as he considers what he knows. “I know of her, but I haven’t had much interaction with those that came from the Ark,” Ben finally admits apologetically. “During those early days after all the conflict, the Cerberus was out to sea more than it was in port.”

It almost seems like he is going to leave it there, but does add, “Destiny…. Captain Destiny might be your best bet, if you haven’t gone to talk to her yet. I believe Edward Ray might be skulking about here somewhere, as well.” Though by his tone, Ryans might not have the best opinion of the man. “I wish I knew more for you.”

"Destiny Mas?" Because that still feels weird to say, and Ryans can probably see the way Robyn scrunches her face in annoyance. Edward Ray is the more surprising name, however, her brow furrowing. "Edward Ray is here? I never would've thought him one to know her, but… any lead is a good lead at this point."

Pulling out a small notebook, she shields the pages from the rain as she scrawls a note inside. "I'm saddened to hear she's never gotten the chance to know you," Robyn adds after a moment. "I don't make a habit of talking about… people from my world. I hate it, actually. I don't think it's fair to anyone, least of all the poor sod having to hear it." Closing the notebook and slipping it back into her bag, she looks back up a t Ryans.

"But I bet she could've learned a lot. I know I did."

“It all works out, cause I am not in the habit of asking about other worlds, unless it is about my eldest son,” Benjamin says with a gruff, but amused chuckle. “So far, none of you have seen fit to say anything about who I am over there and I’m alright with that. Don’t need to know.”

Where the Benjamin she knows was often a tough read, holding back emotions like some great secret…. This one, on the other hand, offers her a relaxed smile that deepens the lines of his face. “For what it's worth, I hope you find her.”

The face Robyn makes at the mention of his eldest son makes it clear shr doesn't know what he's talking about. Her brow stitches together. "Eldest son?" Before he can answer, she raises a hand and shakes her head. "I don't… need to know. I'm not here to poke at old wounds."

Instead, she matches his smile, shoulders relaxing a bit. "On a long enough timeline, I think it's inevitable. But hopefully, it won't take that long." Closing her notebook, she slides it back into her bag and nods. "Thank you, Ben, for narrowing down where I should go next. I appreciate it greatly."

Her reluctance for an explanation doesn't seem to bother him, finding more amusing than anything.

“A pleasure,” Ben offers in return, with a polite incline of his head, before turning his attention back to the activity behind him. Before he makes his way back to his work, he pauses and adds. “And stay safe out there, young Traveller.”

The Pelago
Lowe's Docks

June 17th
6:59 am

This sucks. It's all Robyn can think as she stares blearily out at the ocean, the morning sun reflecting against windswept waters, vision slightly hazy from lack of slate. It's far earlier than she intended to be up, but it seems in this the universe has taken to conspiring against her. At least this meant she could have an early start.

The docks have become a favourite place for people watching while she waits for ferries to come in, so long as she stays away from the water's edge as much as possible, but Robyn's eyes widen as her people watching brings into view one person she's slowly coming to know during her stay in the Pelago.


"Silas!" she calls out to him, hopping down from her perch and starting towards him. "What brings you out this early?"

The sound of a familiar voice draws Silas's attention, though it takes him a moment to decipher just who that voice belongs to. Understandable, perhaps, given that there are two possibilities for that particular voice, at the moment. "Robyn," he acknowledges. "Keeping busy. Trying to get things done; early bird gets the worm." In point of fact, for this particular enterprise being up early is more staying up early, but that's neither here nor there. "How about you? You havin' any luck?"

"Sleeping, no," Robyn answers quickly as she staves off a yawn. "Finding the people I'm looking for? Also no." Her arms fall slack at her side and she shrugs. "But I at least have a place to stay that isn't on a boat, and a means to get by and contribute. Guess I'm really destined to stay in the entertainment business for as long as I live."

Which, from the sound of it, she may not be thrilled about.

Wrinkling her nose, she looks back at him, eyes searching his for a moment. "You haven't by chance seen her around, have you? Heard of her being about?" She doesn't have to say who, she figured. There's only two people she's told Silas she would want to find, and one of them decided to be a bad idea. "I have some leads but… it's a puzzle I still haven't quite put together yet."

"Yeah? Well, it's a living, at least. There's worse things you could be doing," Silas says absently, rubbing at his chin. "I haven't run into Else lately, but I think she's still around. As to the other one…"

Silas pauses a moment, considering. "Sometimes I don't see her around for awhile, which kinda makes me think she might be crewin' on one of the boats. But… I think I saw her the other day here at Lowe's, in passing," he says, shrugging. "Didn't get a chance to talk, but I think it was her."

"Wait. Here?" Robyn seems rather surprised, eyes widening as she looks back from the docks at the building that rises above them. "I fucking- live here now. And she was right under my nose!" Huffing out a breath, there's no time for Robyn to seethe about it.

"Still, that helps. Nice to know she comes by." A hand reaches up, fingers tapping at her chin. "You're not the first person to tell me she seems to disappear for a while at times. But crewing? It makes sense, I just…" Eyes shift to the side, to look out at the water. "I figured the water would keep that from happening."

She dwells on that for only a moment before looking back up at Silas. "Else, I… I'm avoiding it. I don't- I can't." Can't what, isn't stated. "Alright. Alright! This is good information. Thank you, Silas. Where're you headed to today?"

"Well… can't be everywhere. It's a busy place," Silas says, shrugging. At her mention of the water, though, Silas nods in understanding. "Yeah. But it's the only thing I can think of to explain where she goes; you can't go very far here without a boat. Not for months at a time, anyway. Maybe she's more afraid of bein' stuck somewhere than she is of the sea." He considers that for a moment, then shrugs. "Or maybe I'm readin' too much into it."

"As to me… before long I'm probably headin' back to the Second Star. I've got… a lot of work to do. Cashin' in chips where I can, trying not to get skinned too badly in the process," he says with a grimace.

"Cashin' out?" Robyn's eyebrow quirks up, regarding Silas with uncertainty. "You planin' on checkin' out yourself for a while?"" Because when someone cashing in, that's usually what's happening in her experience. "If that's the case, then best a'luck t'you, friend. If not, let me know if there's any way I can help."

But she doesn't step away from him yet, a thoughtful look on her face as she taps her finger on her chin. "There's a difference between crewing and having a way t'get around. I know she goes out t'The House Above The Sea, an' that's more than a walk for sure. Crewin' though, it…" She huffs out a breath and crosses her arms.

"I guess it doesn't matter. Thank you, Silas. Everything's fitting together, slowly."

"Checking out? I suppose you could say that," Silas says, chuckling hollowly. "The whole point of savin' up for a rainy day is being able to cash in when the rain comes," he says gravely, giving Robyn a knowing look — he knows what the future holds, after all. "Kinda hard to plan for the future when the weather forecast is as bad as it is… but you know that," he says, offering a smile that, for a moment, shows how tired he really is.

Then he nods, that tired smile fading as quickly as it'd come. "I'll take all the luck I can get… and the same goes for you lot, yeah? If you lot need any help, let me know."

Pulling a small notebook out of her bag, Robyn flips to a page near the back and scrawls something inside. "Be careful what you offer, Silas. You may not be happy when someone takes you up on it." She doesn't look at him as she offers this word of warning. "But thank you. I'm still having trouble adjusting, so… imagine I'll take you up on that before too long."

Closing the notebook, she looks back up at him with a sad smile - one that falters after a moment. "Wait. I know what? That th' weather is shit? You don't need t'be an atmokinetic to gather that." Her eyes narrow. "What're you playing at, Silas?"

That sudden suspicious squint sees Silas's eyes narrow in turn. "Playing?" he echoes, his voice low and slow and rough.

He studies Robyn for a moment longer. "I'm not playing at anything," he says at last, a hint of a scowl on his face. He shakes his head. "Whatever. If you have any other questions, ask 'em. Otherwise… time's wastin', and I've got work to do," he says dismissively.

It wasn't entirely suspicion, but she continues to watch him with narrowed eyes, head tilting slightly. "Sorry. I didn't mean to offend. I find myself a bit jumpy at some things as of late. I feel like there's a lot of things I should know that I don't." Closing her notebook, she slides it back into her bag,

"I won't trouble you further. Thank you, though. You've been more help than I think you realize."

Silas nods tiredly. "No worries," he says. He nods again, once, then turns and takes his leave; there is more work to be done, after all.

The Pelago

June 17th

The main docks of the Pelago are always a strange sight to Robyn, more so than anything else in the Pelago. Seeing all the boats lined up felt like being on vacation with her parents when she was a child. She hadn't liked the water then anymore than she does now, but she'd loved the sight of the docks.

Some things never change.

This is different from stepping aboard Erin's houseboat, though, with what she surmised was a very different sort of person. A Captain, the exact kind of person it had been made clear she needed to be on her best behaviour around - or at the very least, not be a nuisance.

As she steps up to the Featherweight, the best she can hope for is that she doesn't come off that way.

"Ahoy!" she calls up as she finally spots a figure out aboard the deck, immediately cringing and waiting for someone to laugh at her. "Is Captain Mas about? I'd like to speak with her, if possible."


The clomping of boots sounds from the opposite side of the boat, the person they belong to hidden by the wheelhouse above. A youthful voice answers her back. “Ahoy!” The bootfalls grow louder until the shape of a plucky blonde in a sunny yellow rain slicker rounds the corner. “At your service!”

The young woman squints through the drizzle and the mist that permeates the space between them and tilts her head. “Rhubarb? Why so formal? You know you can—” She pauses and leans back slowly. “Ohh!”

With a wave of her fingerless-gloved hand, she beckons Robyn forward. “You’d better come inside!” She scurries to the wheelhouse and pulls open the door, waiting to be joined.

That's not a request Robyn immediately follows through on, instead she stands there dumbfounded. "R-Rhubarb?" she is clearly taken aback by this - it's not hard to tell it's a nickname, probably even an affectionate one, but, well…

It's certainly not one she's heard before.

It takes a moment before her feet seem willing to move again, bringing her on deck and to follow after Destiny. "That, uh. That's a new one," she offers with a weak smile. "You don't mind me stopping by, do you?"

The captain shakes her head quickly. “No, no.” She closes the door behind them, shutting out the wind and the rain. “Have a seat. I can make some tea below?”

The wheelhouse is surprisingly spacious. The radio and wheel are up front, naturally, and further back is a card table and a shelf built into the wall with some beat up board game boxes held in place behind old netting. There’s space for four chairs around the table, though currently it’s pushed in so there’s only two there, and one extra chair toward the aft among some crates of what must be commonly needed supplies, given the lack of dust and the scratches on the floor from what appears to be frequent movement.

Destiny pulls off her hood and shakes her shoulder length blonde hair out. The jacket sounds a sigh as she slips it off her arms and hangs it from a hook by the door. She turns around and smiles, friendly. “You’re the other Robyn,” she says without shock or animosity. “You came in with Richard.” So that spares an awkward introduction.

But that is definitely a younger Odessa Price that Robyn is staring at right now.

It's a slow realization, but one that makes Robyn's eyes narrow and her head tilt ever so slightly to the side. This is an unexpected wrinkle. "And you were at the Captain's meeting. Captain Mas, yes? I have to admit, I'm a bit curious about that."

She knows better than, if this is Odessa Price, to directly bring up her actual identity. She wouldn't do that to Ourania Pride in public, and she won't do it to Destiny Mas in public.

"I, uh." There's an audible swallow and a stutter to Robyn's words as she continues. "I met one, uh, a friend of yours earlier today. Crewmate? It wasn't really clear." To say that her run in with Else Kjelstrom had shaken her was a bit of an understatement, and even still Robyn isn't entirely okay and trying very hard not to show it. "She gave me the idea of stopping by, in the hopes you'd answer a few questions for, in exchange for… I guess, whatever I can provide for the information I'm looking for."

Shoulders rise and fall in a heavy sigh, her voice quiet as she speaks again. "I'm trying to find the other Robyn Roux."

Des affirms her identity with an agreeable hum, though she doesn’t shine light on that just yet. Instead, she has her own curiosity when Robyn mentions a crewmate that maybe wasn’t clearly a crewmate. Her first thought goes to Spades or Doc, but the pronoun dismisses both of them immediately. Edward, too. That really narrows it down. If it’d been Dearie, then she wouldn’t be asking where to find Rhubarb.

“You mean Else.” It isn’t a question. The lack of clarity makes sense there. “She told you to come by here and talk to me?” That’s the part she finds quizzical, but she shrugs it off and accepts it for what it is. It’s just that way with Else sometimes. Most times, frankly.

Nodding her head firmly to show she’s ready to get down to business, Des gestures to the table. “Sit, sit!” She scurries to the back and retrieves two glass bottles of water from one of the crates and comes back to the table, setting one down in front of her and the other across the way for her guest. “You said you’d barter for this information? I’ve got a proposition for you!”

"Not in… so many words?" The confusion Robyn has isn't from how to parse what Else may have said, but for the interaction happening before her. This can't be Odessa Price. Could it? She has a better opinion of the woman than most may have, but even this just seems… unreal in that context.

"But yes. Else. You know her, speaking what she means through four layers of obfuscation, two metaphors, and some sort of melodic cypher." Robyn's shoulders rise and fall in a shrug, adjusting the notebook she holds under one arm. "A need to come here was what I took from what she had to say. I hope that's what she intended."

Glancing down at the table and offered water, Robyn hesitates before moving to sit at the table. "Oh? Alright. I'm glad to find someone so cooperative. I've had some people be… less so." She's thankful for the water, pulling her glass close and taking a long sip. "Let's hear it."

The corners of Des’ eyes crinkle with mirth at the description of the singer-songwriter’s way. “She’s great, right?” Where others might be uncomfortable with the strange, Des seems to embrace it and welcome it like family. She pours the glasses like a good host and drums her unevenly cut fingernails on the table while she thinks about how to phrase her ask.

It turns out to be a simple thing. “I’ll tell you about your double if you’ll tell me about mine!” Destiny beams like the sun that’s been missing for far too long during this storm season already. “Have we got a deal?”

"For what it's worth, Ben Ryans mentioned you too. I would've been here eventually no matter what, but…" Robyn notes, but she has little time to continue that thought before she stops dead and stares at Destiny. "I don't know a Destiny Mas where I come from," she begins as she reaches down to her bag and pulls out a notebook. "I know an Odessa Price, though." Guess she's putting that one to the test. "Or, Ourania Pride, rather."

Well, at least no one can ever fuss at her about her many names.

"I've been holding to a rule," she says in a low voice as her notebook settles into her lap. "That I don't tell people about their other selves if I can help it. I don't think it's fair, or right. But if you're asking, I'll oblige. I don't know her terribly well, but I'll tell you what I can. I've known an Odessa or two across time and space, but she's the one I know best."

“Big Ben, huh?” Des utters that in a hush with the sort of reverence reserved for someone larger than life. Given the size of the vessel he commands compared to hers, maybe he is. Maybe Ben Ryans fits that bill in any universe.

The names spread out in front of her like cards in a tarot reading, Destiny can only nod at first. “Ourania Pride’s not a name I recognize, but it’s a lot closer to the rest of us than Desdemona Desjardins, I suppose.” While she emphasizes how out of keeping that nom d’emprunt was with the other versions of herselves, it’s with no bite or condemnation. They’ve all done what they had to do in order to continue living. Choosing a fake name is the least of any of their sins.

Herself included.

“But everyone of us followed a different path in the garden, had a different name. Price, Pride, Knutson, Woods…” The young woman shakes her head, smiling without apparent pain. “I’ve been a Price, shined Ruiz like a beacon,” given Mateo Ruiz emerged from the Looking Glass at Sunspot (at the Institute) sans his little sister, Robyn can guess how that worked out for her. “And now Eve passed Mas to me like a crown. The world needs a strong Mas woman, with her gone…” Such as she is or isn’t.

With a quick shake of her head, Destiny comes back to the moment. “Sorry. I don’t… talk about myself much.” Blue eyes glance away, suddenly she’s bashful. “But about her. Ourania? She was Odessa when I dreamed her. I lost my connection to her when the Ark went up. I’ve worried about her. Smiles — Silas told me she made some plan to — I don’t know, go to prison? Maybe forever?”

The look on Destiny’s face conveys one simple thought: Please tell me that didn’t happen.

Robyn is quiet for a moment, gauging Destiny as she talks, considering how she should respond. Quiet, thoughtful, and sympathetic as she huffs out a breath and leans forward. "It was, for a time," she offers quietly. "I don't really know a lot of the details, I have to admit. But I know she's not there now."

She leans back, looking up at the ceiling. "Parole. The name Ourania Pride was part of… I guess it's basically witness protection." Except not really, but Robyn doesn't know the more complicated details and doesn't want to speculate. "She doesn't look the same anymore, which is a boon for her, certainly. I only even know it's her because…"

Robyn chuckles, exhaling sharply. "Well, I work for the agency that brought her in, and now I liaison with Richard's company, where she works. It isn't my job to keep an eye on her, but… I do, occasionally." Mostly because of the other place she knows Ourania works at, a fact she's still kept to herself thus far.

"She's a good person, for what it's worth." Robyn's gaze lowers back down to Destiny and she shrugs. "I doubt I need to tell you that, but… other people might tell you she's a bad guy. And, I mean, she's made some mistakes, just like anyone else. But I've seen her work as a medic in a pro-evolved safe house, I've heard about how she helped bring Magnes and others to my world from here, and just-" Robyn smiles slightly. "She's good at heart, that's my assessment of her. Hell, she's getting married soon, I think."

Or already has, but Robyn's been too busy with her ongoing anxiety about this whole trip to notice.

Destiny, too, responds with a solemn quiet as she listens to Robyn’s assessment of her other’s situation. She wears her concern plain on her sleeve, and looks down at the table. No, she’s not, she almost says, when Robyn promises her that Odessa is a good person, like she needs to absolve her of saying something she doesn’t mean. When it turns out that Robyn has her own reasons for thinking so, reasons that have nothing to do with sparing Destiny’s feelings, the young woman lifts her head again and smiles.

“Married? Really? Did—” She grimaces faintly, but looks hopeful as she asks, “Did she marry James? James Woods?”

James Woods is a name that, at first, earns a blank stare from Robyn - at least, until a moment of recognition flashes on her face, along with a memory of paramilitary operation almost two years ago at this point. "That's a name I haven't heard in a while," she remarks in a low voice, tinged with uncertainty. Destiny's hopeful gaze doesn't go unnoticed, but there's little to be done for it now. She could lie, but with Richard with her, she knows there's little point in it.

"Ah, no. A man named… Stoltz? I can't remember his first name. I don't particularly know him." Not that that should be surprising, she barely knows Odessa as it is, and it's not like she went to the wedding.

This time, she chooses to leave out that Richard may know more.

Destiny’s smile stays in place, but she isn’t the accomplished liar her counterpart is, and she can’t hide the shift behind her eyes. “Ah! Well, I’m happy for her. And I hope she’s happy.” The smile fades then, for different reasons. “I know she usually isn’t.”

Letting out a deep breath, she shakes the emotion off and renews her smile for Robyn. “Now! What do you want to know about— well… Robyn.

A frown of her own forms across Robyn's lips, leaning back as she takes a sip of her water. "I have to admit," is said quietly, eyes no longer quite focused on Destiny, rather angled down towards the table. "I'm not… really used to people being familiar with their… other selves? Versions? Variants?"

A finger raises up, before she nods and makes a shallow point forward. "Variants. That seems like the least self centered way to conceptualise all of this."

Another sip of water, and she sets the glass back down. "I had begun to wonder if foreknowledge of my variants was… well, not wholly unique to myself, but certainly more than most people." Hands settle back into her lap, and she shakes her head. "Not that it's helping me much here, but… that's a road I can cross when I get to her. To- Roux? Most people seem to call her that, here".

Robyn wrinkles her nose and sighs. "What I need help with is finding her, I guess. More than anything." A weak smile is offered to Destiny, a pensive way to how she trails off. "No one's really sure where she hangs her hat, so to speak." She gives a small shrug, sinking a bit in her chair. "Though even if you don't know, that's fine. I'm trying to make an effort to meet more people here. Pass myself off as her sister to those who don't know better."

Des nods along, unbothered by the way Robyn grasps for a term that doesn’t insult the individual on either side of the timeline. “She’s really nice, you know. A bit like me, I think — too nice, sometimes.”

After a sip of water, the captain rests her elbow on the table, setting her chin on her hand. “Have you met Dearie yet? Hydrokinetic. Really pretty wavy hair. She and Rhubarb hang out together a bit. Nadira takes care of all the wayward sorta young people in the Pelago, really.” Destiny catches herself, lifting her head quickly to shake it. “Not that Rhubarb’s wayward. I don’t mean it like that. It’s just… a community. We all need somebody, you know?”

For a moment, Robyn looks more than a little lost as she tries to follow Destiny's train of thought, up until the name Nadira is mentioned. Ah, yes. It really does feel like all roads lead back to the House Above The Sea. "Honestly?" Robyn closes her eyes and leans back, looking up at the cabin ceiling. "I think wayward's a good word. I like it better than vagrant at least. No one knows where she actually lives. It's not with Nadira. Kendall doesn't know… though I don't think the little shit would tell me even if he did."

There's some vitriol in those words, perhaps enough to be slightly concerning.

She lingers for a moment before sighing, looking back down and smiling at Destiny. "I don't have any reason to assume this Robyn is any younger than I am, in which case I'm almost certain she's older than Nadira. Or at least the same age, I forget." Taking a deep breath, her eyes drift shut after a long moment. "I wish I knew why she doesn't want to be found."

The blonde shrugs her shoulders and gestures to herself. “Stranger things have happened,” she suggests with regards to the two Robyns being the same age or not, since she quite obviously doesn’t look to be the same age as her other selves. “But she is. Older than Dearie, I think. None of that really matters, though. Don’t have to be wayward or a kid to fit in with that crew.”

Her hands snug together around her water. “It’s not easy meeting yourself,” Des offers up unsolicited. “There’s things that are similar and things that are so different, you can’t imagine how she can be so wrong.” Shoulders hunch inward, like she’s trying to make herself smaller than she already is. “But eventually, you’ll see that she’s you. Even a broken mirror still shows a reflection.”

Robyn is quiet for a long moment, lips pressed thin as she falls quiet upon listening to Des. Her shoulder scrunch tight for a moment light she's shivering and her eyes closed, mind locked in a precarious dance of thoughts and opinions she desperately wishes to share, but wisely thinks better of.

"So what do you do, out here in the Pelago?" she abruptly asks, eyes still closed. If she was looking to change the topic, she's apparently just going for it. "I know you were at the meetings with other captains, but beyond being a sort of loose… governing force, I haven't seen what you all do beyond that. This place is… fascinating in how everyone has a purpose, even more so than back home. At least I have that on my side when looking for her, someone has to know what she does."

If she recognizes the shift for what it is, Des doesn’t call Robyn out on it. “Yeah. I’m one of the Council of Captains,” she confirms. “We weigh in on matters of governance and safety for the Pelago.” Given that their main threats will always come from the water, it makes sense that the ship captains would take on that role. “Me, specifically? I’m a supply runner, mostly. My ship,” she shifts a shoulder to indicate what’s around them, “may not have the most capacity, but she’s small and fast.” Perhaps not unlike her captain.

There’s a smile for the assessment of their culture, a nod of her head. “Yeah, it’s not like where Odessa came from,” Destiny agrees. “If anyone here is a cog in the machine, it’s because the cogs are necessary. We don’t survive if we don’t rely on each other.” Which isn’t to say there aren’t haves and have-nots. The Palisades Sill is an example. It’s not, however, to the extent that her unlimited glimpse into the worlds of Odessa Woods or Robyn implies.

"Supply runner," Robyn repeats with amusement in her tone - not teasing amusement, but genuinely so. "You and I have something in common, then. I used to do… similar back where I come from, though I guess it would be more accurate to say gun runner." Leaning back in her chair, Robyn seems to relax now that the spotlight isn't on her.

"Back just after the war was the closest New York ever got to being like this. But that didn't last, for better or worse." A small smile forms on her face as she lets her shoulders slouch, reaching forward for her water and taking a long sip. "It's been returning to the old ways. It's nice, but… also a bit depressing at times." She angles her gaze more directly on Des and shakes her head. "Not that I mean to make light of things here. I think I've just acquired a taste for when things were… different, I guess. I hesitate to say simpler, but."

She's losing her way with this line of thought, letting it drift off into the air and out of mind as she finishes her glass and speaks up again. "You should come by Lowes one night. I perform there almost nightly to pay my way." She chuckles. "I will say… this feels more like a community than anything back home does. Really makes you believe in the idea that hard times bring people together."

“If we had more guns,” Des supposed, “I’d probably run them.” Firearms and ammunition are in much shorter supply here than they were when Robyn was smuggling. She looks down at her hands, smiling faintly at Robyn’s offer to come listen. “I don’t spend my nights out,” she admits.

Then she sighs, a small frown following that. “I have responsibilities. Or…” Things have changed so much in less than a week’s time. “You know, maybe I can. Maybe I can take a night off for once.” She doesn’t have the same reason to stay on the boat all evening anymore. It’s still too strange to be freeing.

With a genuine laugh, Robyn shakes her head and leans back in her seat, scooping up her tea in one hand. "Don't feel obligated," she notes with a smirk. "It's just me and a guitar and a salvaged piano, really. Not anything ornate or special." Her shoulders rise and fall in a shrug, sinking down a bit in her seat and she takes a sip.

"I have to admit, you're much easier to talk to than I'd expected it. I've found it… hard really talking to people since we arrived. Too many.. Familiar faces, old memories. Old friends. Lost friends." Her eyes flick off to the side for a moment, almost like her mood is going to take a dip. Instead, she smiles wide. "Thank you for entertaining my wild goose chase."

Des smiles at the mention of Robyn’s setup. “I used to play piano with my brother,” she admits. “Didn’t really get to practice much after…” She raises one arm in the air, curving it around slowly before her hand swoops down, like a roller coaster car taking that big drop. Then she glides her hand in a gentle up and down motion in front of her.

She’s pantomiming a massive tidal wave and the floods that followed.

“I played a little when I was at the Ark, but it’s kind of hard to keep a piano on a ship.” She indicates their surroundings with a tilt of her head. Would there be space even if the boat was less prone to being tossed around? “So, maybe I’ll have to come see you just to see if Lowe will let me plunk out Chopsticks later.”

A small smile creeps across Robyn's face at that, leaning forward and faux-whispering conspiratorially to Des, "You're welcome to come play during one of my shows." Her smile grows, leaning back and crossing her arms as she tilts her head. "It'd certainly be a nice change of pace for a night. "I'm sure we could figure out. I love having people to play with, it's boring to perform on your own all the time."

There's genuine excitement in her voice, the kind that for just the most split of seconds makes her wonder why she ever left behind that life to begin with. At least, until reality settles back in, and her smile fades considerably, so she picks on something else to distract her. "Your brother?" She pauses, thinking for a long moment, eyes narrowed and darting back and forth like she's piecing together invisible notes in the air. "…Mateo, if I remember right?" Spoken cautiously, and with the hopes of not upsetting the other woman.

“Yeah,” Des confirms in a soft voice. “He, uhm… He left when I was still a kid. So it’s been a while.” She takes a drink of water, then smiles. “You know him then?” She shakes her head slowly. “The other one, I mean.”

Expression softening, Robyn bows her head slightly. "Apologies if I brought up any bad memories then, I didn't realise. Still, she manages a small smile. "I do know him. He married an old friend of mine, a woman named Lynette, so we've become friends over the last few years." With a small chuckle, she leans her chin against her fist, an amused expression on her face. "Ours plays piano too. He and I were supposed to record some music, as a surprise for Lynette."

She pauses a beat, looking back down at Des. "It's amazing how small this world is sometimes," she notes with a laugh that straddles a line between sarcastic and genuine. "I had no idea Mateo was your brother when I met him. But then, I didn't realise a woman I used to work with was my cousin either until a few years later. Reality is stranger than fiction sometimes, and that," she leans forward, point at Des with a wide smile. "Is the real cosmic punchline of all of this, I think."

Des’ smile renews a little. “I’ve met Lynette,” she says. “Not the Lynette from here, though. She… I think she died. Mateo went to go look for her, and that’s…” The smile fades. “Well, that’s why he went elsewhere.” It’s clear she’s struggling, but also that she’s used to pushing past it. “But the Mateo and Lynette that came through here seemed… Good. And their kid.” She beams. “Evie, my niece.”

Destiny misses them all profoundly, even if she’s been telling herself that they were never hers to begin with. Not her family. Someone else’s family. Someone who just was a bit like her once.

“Speaking of cousins, though,” this, it seems, may be an easier branch of the topic, “did you know that Eve and I are? Well, Mad Eve, and I.”

Oh… No, not so easy after all. She looks self-conscious before continuing. “I mean, you probably picked that up, huh? I decided to be Captain Mas when she died, to carry the name, but…” Blue eyes glance away with the same energy as if she were rolling them at her own expense. “That seems a bit weird now, considering.” She didn’t realize there’d be another Eve to take her place. “I feel like I should have chosen a different name.”

It's a long moment of silence as Robyn sits in quiet contemplation. It takes a lot for her not to immediately launch into a tirade about how she feels about one Eve Mas. Surprisingly, she lands on a more diplomatic response instead. "I will give you forewarning that I have… very strong opinions about Eve Mas, and it's hard for me to remain cool headed when it comes to her. I will try my best, though, because I realise it wouldn't be fair to inundate you with all of my… everything." Straightening her collar, Robyn's posture notably shifts straighter and more serious. "But long story short, regardless of what she may tell you, she and I are not friends."

With that disclaimer offered, Robyn takes a deep breath, hands settling flat into her lap. "But to answer your question, I wasn't sure what the nature of the relationship was. Our Eve would bestow her name on someone as a joke if the mood suited her, so I couldn't guess as to why you were using the moniker Captain Mas. I'm actually glad to have that question answered now."

Nostrils flare, Robyn closing her eyes as she considers her next response. "That said, if she was important to you, this Mad Eve? No, I don't think you should have picked a different name. Not if Mas feels right and is something you're comfortable with. I think that would be a reasonable way to honour her." Eyes open slowly, and she lets out a heavy exhale. "I did something similar a year back. My mother, Charlotte Roux, died during the war we had in our world. I was born Robyn Quinn, but I changed my last name to Roux to honour her. So, I get it."

A small laugh, and she crosses her arms. "Which now I get to explain to this world's version of my mother, but that's a worry for another day, I suppose."

Des looks a little stunned to realize that some of the tension she’s seen in the travelers isn’t just stress of their journey. There is, apparently, at least cracks in the foundation, if not a schism proper. “Yeah,” she murmurs. “Mas is— was my mom’s name b’fore she married my dad…” Her shoulders hunch up, unconsciously starting to feel defensive. “With my Eve gone, I thought I was going to be the last Mas woman standing, you know?”

She lets it go. The feeling is complicated enough that one conversation with a relative stranger isn’t going to bring any sense of resolution, unfortunately.

“Rhubarb never really talked about her mom, even back in the Ark,” Destiny reveals instead. “But… Charlotte Roux sounds familiar somehow.” Her eyes narrow faintly, lips pursed as she stares through the dim halls of memory that sometimes she isn’t sure is hers. “Maybe she mentioned her once or twice.” She smiles in a way she hopes is encouraging. “I’m sure she’ll understand. Moms are supposed to be good like that, right?”

"I do know. Or I get it, at least." Robyn's eyes go half lidded as she looks down at her tea, a more somber tone to her voice. "At least back home, I'm the last Roux. Maybe the last Drucker too, my cousin's been out of contact for a… long time, and my- step-father and I don't talk anymore either, so I'm not very Quinn either.."

Her eyes narrow as she thinks for a moment, and then tilts her head. "I don't know why I'm telling you this," she admits, earning a sympathetic smile from Destiny. "I have had a bit of a hard time connecting with- Odessa, the few times I have spoken to her. You are very easy to talk to, though."

Ultimately, like Destiny, she chooses to move on. "I get the impression she never mentioned much of anything, to anyone," she remarks with a grumble. "I'm still adjusting to the idea she's even alive, but like I said earlier, it's so… strange to see how little she puts out into the rest of the world."

The subject of her mother is, at first, going to be ignored. Instead, she lets out a heavy sigh and shakes her head. "I expect the woman here will be very different from the mother I knew. I have concerns about meeting her, but… yeah. Yeah, I hope she'll understand."

“She may be,” Destiny grants with a shrug of her shoulders. “But I’m betting she loves Rhubarb,” which is a gimme in the realm of suppositions, “so she’ll love you, too.” She smiles, wistful and a little sad. “I wish I had a second chance to see my mom.”

There's a long, lingering silence as Robyn falls silent, looking down at the floor of the boat. "Let's talk about something else," she again offers, lest either of them get lost in their memories, in worry, in what ifs.

More than they already are.

The Pelago
Two If By Sea

June 18th

This was certainly not where Robyn had expected to find herself when she set out on this out of investigative endeavour. Still, the stage ahead of her is already clear, the show that was happening just moments before already ended. When she'd been told that someone named Gracie had also escaped from the Ark, that seemed like as good a lead as any to follow up on.

This just wasn't where she'd expected to find them. While the dancer has only just taken up residence at the bar, she’s knocked back two shots of whiskey in quick succession, leaving the empties both overturned on the bar in front of her and to her left. Robyn makes her approach quickly but not quietly, only slowing as she reaches the dancer at the bar, her back still to Robyn.

The dancer, leaning back after just having a smoke lit for her by the dark-haired man behind the bar, takes a puff off her cigarette as Robyn makes her approach.

"Excuse me, are you Grac-"

Fuck off.


The flat, curt response from the ginger does very little to illuminate any paths to negotiation. Taken more than slightly aback, Robyn furrows her brow and frowns. She knows a dead lead when she hears it, and rather than press she instead chooses to exhale a heavy breath, roll her eyes, and try to not let the nagging familiarity of the voice bother her as she makes her way back away from the bar.

The Pelago
Robyn's Room

June 19th

Robyn huffs out a breath as she looks over her notebook again. It's with a heavy sigh that she scratches another entry off of her list, before scribbling in another one.

Nadira/Kendall (again?)
The Sil(?)
Else… :(
Gracie Wait no still Gracie. Not at night?

Grumbling to herself, she shakes her head and slips the notebook back into her satchel. Tomorrow the goal would be to track down Stef, maybe Cat or Hard. After that, finally get up the wherewithal to visit the Sil.

A part of her hopes more than a little bit that she won't find out much there, but it's never a bad idea to check everywhere she can, even if it seems exceedingly uncharacteristic of the woman she's trying to track down.

As she releases the notebook into her satchel, her fingers brush against a second notebook. There's a moment of hesitation before she pulls it out and stares at it. Else's journal is flipped open, eyes scanning over one of the songs written within before she lets out a sigh and hugs it close against her chest. The faint smile she wears doesn't last, fading as she opens her eyes and slides the notebook back into her bag.

Hopefully, tomorrow, she would get something solid. Hopefully, she wouldn't get to the point where she starts to unravel about this, building her anxiety in real time as she tries to solve the mystery of where is Robyn Roux, and who is she here?

Only time would tell.

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