Herc Hansen (stoptheclock) wrote in saveatlantisic, @ 2018-11-05 20:58:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log, *kristy, *laura, hercules hansen, isabela |
27 october (backdated)
HERC HANSEN ✦ ISABELA
A helicopter tour! Low Complete |
There were many parts of this world that left Isabela happily breathless. There were opportunities and experiences just waiting to be explored, and she was fueled by adrenaline and novelty. She’d met a host of beautiful people, and she’d already been introduced to a wide variety of new ways of living. The alcohol was wonderful and unique, and there were plenty of games to play and scandals to find or create. When one came from a world so different than the current, it meant that most things were new. Isabela had never flown in a helicopter before -- they didn’t exist in Thedas in any form. She was a creature of the sea, and it felt almost sacrilegious to fly. Fortunately, Isabela wasn’t much for religion in the first place. She was vocal when she was excited by something, and that meant delighted laughter and commentary as her body jostled around in the small space. “Why is it so bloody loud?” she said, grateful for the headwear and microphone within it that allowed them to speak and be heard. It’d been a while since Herc had found himself in the cockpit of a helicopter, but luckily, nothing much had stood in the way of Atlantis letting him back in. He guessed they knew that his experience meant that everything came naturally now, like riding a bicycle. It didn’t matter how long it’d been; some things, one just never forgot. He was glad, too, because it’d meant he could show Isabela something she’d never seen before. And that -- despite the fact that they were flying over Atlantis -- provided him with enough of a distraction from how he’d been feeling that he felt more normal than he had in a while. “Has to do with the rotor,” he started, but he realised she probably didn’t even know what that was. He lifted a hand and pointed upwards, making a circular motion with his finger. “The part that spins. Air pressure drops above the blades, rises below them. Makes a vortex, and every time a blade hits it, you get the sound. That’s the best I can explain without getting all technical on you.” There was certainly a case to be made that Isabela had some walls up when it came to emotions, but she’d never been one to hide her fascination or delight, and both were present in her expression now. This technology far surpassed anything Thedas could dream up. She had made to give him a curious look before he gestured, nodding in understanding. “Best you don’t get technical on me, I’m not sure I could handle myself,” she teased, offering a wink, as was standard Isabela. “Okay, what do I need to do.” Herc felt his cheeks flush, but he smiled back at her all the same. “Can’t let that happen here,” he answered. He felt sure he was leaving it open for some sort of comment back. He wasn’t if that was wise, but he couldn’t shut the door once he opened it. “Take ahold of the handle,” he told her, pointing to the other side of the t-bar in front of them. He had one hand on his end, and the thing he liked about this style was that it allowed them a little more space. He’d taken them out over an open field where there wasn’t anything to get in their way in case they needed to make a quick landing. “But gently. Remember, if we push forward, it goes forward. To the right goes right, left goes left. I’ll handle the pedals. Ready?” Isabela grinned at his flushed cheeks, because even in this moment of adrenaline she enjoyed having that impact on him. “No, no. It can wait until later. Wouldn’t want you too distracted when my life is in your hands,” she responded. She nodded at his instructions, following them and placing her hand where he’d indicated on the bar. For all of her arrogance, Isabela listened well when it came to these sorts of things. “I can do gently. It’s not my preference, usually, but I can manage it this time.” More teasing. She couldn’t resist. She offered a cheeky grin, then nodded. “I’m ready!” “Hope so,” Herc said as he bit back a laugh. “These old girls like it slow and gentle. Nice and easy.” He nudged the control slowly to the right so she could get a feel for it, and then let her take the lead. He wasn’t going to let her do much -- this wasn’t really an officially sanctioned training lesson, since normally he would have had them practice on the ground or in simulations first, and then only at a hover until he was sure. But Herc was feeling restless, and he’d always had a bit of a reckless side to him. “How’s it feel compared to a ship?” he asked after she had some time to get used to the controls. “Well, we’ll take it easy on her. For her sake,” she responded, grinning at him. She was thoughtful and almost uncharacteristically serious as she took more control of the piloting. She didn’t expect too much, of course -- she was a captain herself, and she’d have never given someone unbridled access to her ship without good training and experience. But she took these things serious. Isabela liked being good at things, but she never just assumed she would be. Plus, she was on his watch, and he would be responsible if she messed something up drastically. She wouldn’t do that to him. “Actually, not tremendously different whilst being utterly not the same,” she said, offering another grin. “The gentle touch comes into play in much the same way.” She gave him a look then. “Can you make her go faster?” “Had a feeling you might catch on quickly.” There had to be a lot of differences, though having never sailed before she took him out, Herc really couldn’t point it out to anyone. But some things remained the same -- the way you had to be in tune with how your vehicle maneuvered, the way you had to watch the horizon. Some people had it. Some people didn’t. He hummed lightly in response, thinking her question over, wondering where the line was between safe and reckless. It’d been a while since he’d been behind the controls, and he didn’t want to push himself too much. On the other hand… “Yeah, all right. Hold on.” With ease, he made the helicopter climb in altitude and then turned it towards open water. “Can’t remember the last time I flew just for fun.” Isabela felt a thrill at flying, something that was both so opposite her standard and so shockingly similar. Still, she was more enjoying watching him, and she waited eagerly for his response, mischief obvious in her expression. She could never really be accused of deterring people from recklessness, after all. She pulled her hand away as he agreed, beaming and preparing herself for something more adventurous. “By all means, Captain. Show me what you can do,” she said. Captain. He knew she was flirting by saying that. She’d been doing that all along, buttering him up, trying to make him smile, reveling in every time he looked embarrassed. He was sure of that. He might have been years out of practice but he knew the signs when he saw it. For many years, he would’ve brushed it off or pushed it away. He couldn’t exactly explain why he wasn’t now, beyond the freedom this new world afforded him that he hadn’t had before. New world, new life. He hadn’t imagined himself back in a helicopter, either. Who knew what else might happen? “Yes ma’am.” He gave her a little salute and then turned his attention back to the sky, willed himself to relax and let go. The helicopter soared in response, and the island whizzed by underneath them. “Better?” Isabela was definitely flirting. Isabela was always flirting, in truth, but she could feel the sadness in Herc. He deserved those opportunities to smile, and he was extra handsome with some color in his cheeks. And besides all that, this piloting business was very attractive. She grinned at his salute, settling back into her seat and letting her heart race with adrenaline as they picked up some speed. “Much. I can certainly see the appeal in this,” she responded, delighted, laughter in her voice. “It’s what drew me to this in the first place,” Herc agreed. The freedom, the adrenaline -- there was nothing like being up in the air, his hands on the controls, the wind whistling past the windows. As a young man, it’d made him feel powerful. In control, for the first time in his life. Important, when he performed missions. “This is what I did before the jaeger program,” he continued, “before everything -- before everything went wrong.” Before he’d lost his wife, and their lives had changed permanently. “I was set to retire. Then the attack on Sydney happened.” It was easier, in some ways, to talk about this here than it had been with his feet on the ground, even across text. That might have been because the bandage had already been ripped off, though. He couldn’t be sure. “No bloody clue what I would’ve done if it hadn’t. Chuck didn’t need a dad at home all the time anymore, not at ten years old.” “For the military, I assume? You don’t seem like a recreational pilot,” she said, looking at him curiously before turning her eyes back to the open sky. “Mmm, how did you end up a jaeger pilot? Did they just try options before finding matches, or did people come up believing that they were?” “Military, yes. Royal Australian Air Force.” Not that the name would mean anything specific to her, he realised. Her next question brought a small smile to his face for a moment. He’d gone believing he could do it. So many people had. They’d signed up, not knowing what they were really signing up for. Most people never made it through. “I was angry, after losing Angela. Wanted revenge. My brother and I both signed up. Moved Chuck halfway across the world so I could learn and train. Most people… yeah, they believed they were going to be chosen. They wanted to make a difference, they wanted to protect the world, they wanted glory... but it wasn’t as simple as they thought. You needed a strong enough connection to another mind, and many people never matched, no matter how many people they tested with. I got lucky. My brother and I were assigned to each other.” His smile faded. “For a time.” It didn’t mean anything specific to her, but it sounded like something to be proud of, and she nodded in response to it anyway. She listened as he spoke; Isabela really wasn’t the sort who sought out deep conversations, not usually, but something about this place and the unique people that inhabited it with her made her curious about them. She wasn’t always as apt to share her own stories, but she liked hearing from others. “For a time,” she echoed, nodding just a bit because that was a blank she could fill in. “When were you partnered with your son?” “I -- ah.” Herc’s expression darkened. He didn’t think of his brother often anymore. In fact, this was the most he’d spoken about Scott in years. Thinking about Chuck was easier, in some ways, because Herc was so damn proud. Grief-stricken, yes, but his boy, his son, was also the reason that everyone else got to live their lives in peace now. “Six years ago. He was the youngest ranger we’d had. Damn brilliant. I was getting up in years,” with that, he cast a wry smile in her direction, “and didn’t know how much longer I could hold a drift. Except with Chuck. Me and Chuck were good, so we got our girl Striker, and got six good years out of her.” He chuckled lightly and swung the helicopter back around. “Look at me, tellin’ you all this shit. I don’t know how you managed to wrangle it out of me.” “Getting up in years my ass,” she laughed, rolling her eyes at that. She liked hearing him talk about his son more than the other, she thought, because it seemed to be his preferred point of conversation. “It’s a gift, I think. I like hearing from other people,” she added with a laugh. “I find that people tend to get very lost in their grief and forget the things that once made them so happy. Like you, and flying. And fortunately, I’m just ridiculous and pushy enough to encourage a return to those things. My method of friendship is to coerce people to be happy, one way or another.” She offered a wink at that. “Well,” Herc started, but he found his words dried up in his throat for a moment. She was right. He had gotten lost in his grief. Twice now, even though he knew that the first time around had damaged his relationship with Chuck and had damaged Chuck’s emotional growth. He’d gotten so lost in his own grief that he’d forgotten that he needed to be a parent. Then, without Chuck around, there was nothing keeping him afloat. He’d been drowning a little, even out in the bush. He cleared his throat and continued, “I am old for a ranger. None of the others ever lasted this long.” They were dead, one way or another. “But I’ll agree it’s a gift.” He needed someone to push him. He and Chuck had pushed each other in ways that weren’t helpful, and Stacker had been lost in his own grief, too. “Thank you.” She’d not intended to stumble upon a great truth about him, so her head tilted a little at his response. Still, she smiled; she was glad to have been helpful. That had absolutely been her intention on the whole, after all. “Well, I can certainly agree that you’re remarkable, from what I’ve seen. You deserve peace,” she said, continuing to smile. “You don’t owe me gratitude at all, but you’re very welcome.” Herc wanted to disagree -- he didn’t feel very deserving, after all -- but he didn’t want to argue, either. Even though it seemed like he’d received a semblance of forgiveness from Chuck in the end, forgiving himself was the real challenge. He suspected it always would be. “You want another go at the controls before we head back?” he asked. He couldn’t offer much in return for her kindness beyond this new experience. It didn’t seem like nearly enough, but it’d have to do. “Yes, absolutely,” she said, beaming. “I’m ready, captain. Let me at it.” |