saltburnt inbox.

[revvedup]

WELCOME TO THE SALTBURNT NETWORK

USERNAME:
guevara

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crashes into your inbox sorry it's with this

[aldhani]

[after leaving this conversation, cassian sends a text that's as quick as he's currently walking.]

I'm leaving the garden. Where are you?

you know what it's appropriate

[revvedup]

[ uh-oh. she knows that tone of text. ]

the library. what's wrong?

me again | around november 21

[aldhani]

[it's late, when cassian finishes his shift and starts the journey back to their shared room. on the chance that max might be asleep (not likely, but there's a chance, however small), he sends a text first.]

I heard what you called in.

[revvedup]

[ she is not asleep, which probably won't surprise him when he receives her response. ]

yeah?
what did you think?

text; un: g.colchestermoore (misfire)

[guinegreer]

What do you think? Too much for tonight?

[ the attachment is technically meant for gwen, after receiving a panty shot first, but apparently these phones are still glitching. ]

@fasterkillpussy

[revvedup]

[ max thinks, for a moment, that it's grace messaging her, even after sending and receiving misfires throughout the day. but closer inspection reveals that the tattoos are missing, among a couple other tells. ]

i don't know, i was told recently there's no such thing as 'too much' here.
don't think this was meant for me but you look gorgeous.

@doublebluff ; text

[temujackie]

hi, max?
my name is melissa. you don't know me, but i saw you posted something on the network a while ago about coming here from another place?

[revvedup]

hey melissa, yeah, that was me. nice to meet you.
what’s up? you had a question about it?

@andor (blanket cw for pregnancy mention)

[aldhani]

[there is an attachment that's a screenshot of this comment. followed by:]

You don't think this is something we need to worry about, do you?

[guy who is not spiraling. he is Fine.]

[revvedup]

[ oh good does that mean she gets to spiral instead? ]

i don’t know.
it wasn’t in duplicity, but who knows about here?

un: hmm

[commentary]

Why the Ninja 650?

[revvedup]

[ what ]

what?

📸 friday

[redeems]

( when Max steps out of the shower, nothing is amiss. the bathroom is full of steam, including the fogged over mirror.

either, by the fog clearing up, or from a hand swipe, the polaroid either sits, stuck to the mirror or falls off with that swipe.

when she gets a closer look, it's angelus looking every bit as friendly as he came off, in buffy's gym, in a selfie with his new bestie grace. )

@koby | post angelusgate

[kobes]

[he'd find out late, in any other circumstances, but -- there's a photo in his phone of cassian dead. so he knows.

so:] I'm so sorry, Max.

sob poor koby

[revvedup]

[ it's a while before max can bring herself to answer, even though she's not able to do much else. she scrolls through the network looking for any answer she can find on death in this place. in duplicity cassian had died, both of them had, but they'd come back without much in the way of effects. it looks like it's different here, but people aren't talking much about it publicly. she can't say she blames them.

eventually, not wanting koby to think she's blaming him for what happened, she responds: ]

did he hurt you?

voice — action @robert.plant

[cholesterol]

( what do you say to anyone? he's lost more people than he can count. people that mattered, the nameless and faceless. he's let people down. he holds a corner of guilt for partying the way he did the night before, but the house was on it. and if it was only one casualty, and the other people were saved?

well, that's a win in dean's book.

but he knows it's not a in in max's. he starts with a voicemail. )

Hey, Max, it's Dean. You need anything, I'll be there. For what it's worth, Cassian being there could have gave everyone else time so Giles couldn't bleed to death. I know that's like ice cold comfort. ( A beat. ) Look, I'm sorry, and I'm here and - yeah.

( but that doesn't feel like enough and already he thinks he basically fucked up what could've been a nice condolence call. so, he grabs two glasses, a big bottle of Wild Turkey and seeks out max's room, knocking on it with the glasses. )

[revvedup]

[ oh my god, time and place

max isn’t really in the mood to look on the bright side, so dean’s first message gets ignored (pointedly, as she responds to others on post she made when she’s feeling up to it. by the time he knocks at her door she looks sort-of pulled together (in that she’s showered and it’s been long enough since she’s broken down that her eyes are less red-rimmed and watery). she looks, for a moment, like she’s debating whether or not she wants to let him in or take the bottle and glasses from him before shutting the door in his face.

in the end, she steps aside, pushing the door open wider. ]

@wanda

[wundagores]

[wanda hovers over max's name for a long time, breath shaky. there aren't any words to say; i'm sorry that the one you love was killed when i could have stopped it isn't something anyone wants to hear, and it isn't something that will ease any of the gnawing in her chest. instead:]

I can set up the wards for you today, if you want.

[it isn't much, but it's something.]

[revvedup]

[ it’s a little while before wanda gets a response. max is still trying to cope with her own feelings, swinging wildly between being angry enough to tear something apart with her bare hands, too consumed with her own grief to feel anything, and trying to do anything she can think of to prepare for when cassian resurrects. she’s more towards the latter in the periods between when she responds to strange’s offer and wanda makes hers. ]

yes. thank you.

do you need anything from me in order to do it?

After Angelus (A.D.) (cw death, corpse, grief)

[snaggleteeth]

'Qimir' makes two trips. On the first, he hoists out a propane heater, hand pick, a few other tools redundant to the shovels she took—past experience counts for something.

On the second, he brings Cassian.

It seemed rude to bring them both in a wheelbarrow—and ritualistically problematic to cheat, to use powers to fracture the hard, winter-frozen earth. Magic, souls, procedural rigor aren't his thing, but the stranger understands sacrifice: its weight, its taste. Rules, rules, rules. It doesn't surprise him that, long before he returns with the corpse shrouded in white linen, Max has already begun to hack up the unyielding turf. Chipping her shovel-head. The wooden haft creaks in her grip. She's very strong.

Gas heating is efficient, a burning sensation without the fleshy consequences, violent red light. She doesn't seem to notice how it limns her arms in false sunset, beads her face with sweat—a face that'd be bone-dry, otherwise. It's not long before he starts digging, too. After that, the work goes quick.

Something odd about an empty grave. Every corpse is already an active mitochondrial cave-in, a gouge-out of someone's grieving heart, a sucking hole in the living Force. The pit you dig is a house for a house with no one left inside.

"A little deeper. Forest has animals." That's as far as conversation goes.

Only a woman left outside. Standing in the skeletal garden (manor cemetery), covered in blackish salt burnt (mud sweat). Wordless, while he gently slings Cassian's body into the earth and packs up after. He doesn't have to read her mind. Agony betrays her thoughts. No need to take out his phone, either, to capture her solitary silhouette against the treeline or the hemorrhaging crater she makes in the Force. To show Cassian later if needed. Without pulling back the mantle, he'd checked Cassian's eyes were closed. In case.

Maybe she says something later. By then, he's gone.

✉️ delivery.

[begot]

[ A few days after things return to (relative) normal, an envelope finds its way to Max's door, containing a piece of pale blue card stock upon which has been written, in Amy's neat, looping hand: ]

Dear Max,

I'm writing to thank you for your help — and to say that I'm so sorry for what happened. I know there's nothing I can write here that will ease the pain; I can only hope that the world rights itself swiftly, as it only can in a place like this. Please let me know if there's anything I can do.

— Amy

1/26

[revvedup]

[ it isn’t until cassian is both returned and as close to normal as one can be after having been murdered, resurrected, and reunited with one’s soul (something max isn’t equipped to pretend to understand or learn about when things are still so fresh for them both) that she feels up to responding. honestly, she’s impressed amy’s handling things that well. it makes her wonder what kind of world she came from, but she doesn’t know her well enough to ask. ]

hi, amy. thank you.
sorry for not checking in sooner but i was trying to learn whatever i could about what would happen when he came back. [ she may have seen her post. ]

how are you both doing? are you healing up okay?

@angel

[redeems]

I'm sorry about Cassian. And Grace. And Giles. And Amy. And everything Angelus did to you and the people you love.

Angelus has no soul and that's who first came to this house.

Sorry's not enough, but it's all I got right now. If I can do anything. Ever.

[revvedup]

[ it’s a long time, at least a few hours, before max is able to respond. she debates not saying anything at all, but the longer she goes without a word the more her anger simmers. she remembers what buffy and faith had to do, how he’d tracked down koby and exploited a weakness, how he’d tricked grace. how he’d been in her and cassian’s room. images of how she found cassian flash behind her eyes, tinged in red, after she’d managed to go a few nights without seeing them.

it’s enough to spur her into responding: ]

you’re right. it’s not enough. and i don’t care.

come near me, or him, or any of them, koby included, ever again, and i’m going to kill you as many times as it takes until i get it to stick.

action

[aldhani]

[between what's appeared on the network and the way that max is staring intently at her phone, it isn't hard to know what she's thinking. cassian can practically see the gears turn in her mind — and they're best stopped, if he can.

he glances over, from the other side of the bed. says,]

It isn't worth the risk.

[his voice still can't manage to be much more than quiet, even days after coming back.]

[revvedup]

[ it's not surprising that he's seen the post too and knows, immediately, what she's thinking about, even if she's filtered her comment away from him. but she does look up at him sharply. he doesn't get a pass on wanting to suffer because he's just come back from the dead. ]

I've risked way more for way less.

@dean

[cholesterol]

You're invited to Dean Winchester's funeral. Refreshments and a small catering spread will be provided afterward. Prepared remarks and stories are encouraged.

✉️ — invitation

[rationalism]

TIME TO CELEBRATE

PLEASE JOIN US FOR A
DINNER PARTY

YOU AND A GUEST ARE INVITED TO
CELEBRATE THE EXTREMELY IMPORTANT
MILESTONE 31sᴛ BIRTHDAY OF
GRACE LE DOMAS

wine, food, & friends

FEB 23 | 6PM
COCKTAIL ATTIRE
[insert room here]

@buran (for now), event, pre-escape

[cryptofascist]

Hello, my name is Gabriel Lorca. A colleague in security told me about an upcoming special event.

Congratulations, first of all. Second, I'd like you to know that I'll be working closely with Yelena to make sure everything goes smoothly on the day.

[revvedup]

[ she's aware that this isn't the locra who'd been with them in duplicity, at least not according to michael. but his help is still appreciated. ]

thank you. and welcome aboard, so to speak.