contact ♌ we were born to fuck each other one way or another

[sharpasyours]

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voice.

[regicidium]

Gods only know, [ sounds more like him, a little dry, resentful for the landscape of this place as he tries to figure that out. How far has he wandered?

The communique gives off light, but doesn't penetrate shadows. ]

I went to look at the stars. They call it the shuttle bay.

voice.

[sharpasyours]

[ Something small tightens in her chest, in her voice, for all that she cannot (could not have, before his hand—) imagine Jaime failing to overcome an obstacles so simple as misdirection. Lost means something different here. ]

They say it's safest to stay where it's lit. [ is said with wry awareness of how seldom the word safe has applied to anything her brother has done, and yet minutely softened, as if she could will it. Be safe, damn it. ]

Might it have been one of the Stark brats? Calling your name. Children are fond of jests.

voice.

[regicidium]

No.

[ That doesn't sound concrete certain, just dismissal. Certain of what it is not, uncertain of what it is.

But-- ]

Perhaps it is something of that sort. [ Fuck it. He feels at once foolish, but resigned to foolishness already. ] I'll go back the way I--

[ His voice drops away, abruptly. And then the sound of urgent foot steps, pursuit. ]

voice.

[sharpasyours]

Jaime—!

[ She hates this, this impossible little box, that she can hear his voice as clear as if he were here beside her but no amount of technology can make it so. ]

What's happening? Are you–

voice.

[regicidium]

[ One voice sounding his name from around the next corner; another, tinny, familiar, on his communique.

Only one corrects his course. ]

I have to go.

[ That's it. The line drops dead, and he doesn't pick up again. ]