[ Will probably shouldn't be anywhere near the ship's storage areas.
For starters, all the entrances to it are in steerage, in the third class hallways. To even walk through them is to gain some measure of attention because even dressed down, it's clear that Will Graham, heir to the late John Graham's railway company out in the less-tamed but still wealthy parts of the western US, doesn't belong in third class. From the simple fact that he can afford hair products to the more glaring issue of eyeglasses and the make of his shoes, Will sticks out when among the small throng of people seemingly always in the hallways down in third class.
But the benefit of his station in life is simple and one he takes full advantage of: that he doesn't have to answer to any of them. Will brushes past everyone, as he always does. Chin up but no eye contact, shoulders back but a fine tremor to them until he finally passes through the door into the storage area of the ship.
In here, it's just the myriad of things that the rich aboard the ship decided to take with them back to America. Will shuts the door behind himself and keeps walking, doesn't even start to slow down until he's trailed between the piled-high boxes and cars and wire cages long enough that he can almost forget where he is. Until it's almost possible to let go of the fact that he's trapped in a small space with hundreds - thousands - of other people.
Will sighs deeply and sinks down onto a shipment trunk, far enough in that he's collected a thin layer of dust on his shoes just from walking among everything. And here, finally isolated in a way he couldn't achieve in the spacious but very purposeful and flashy quarters he has here on the ship, Will puts his head in his hands and just breathes.
And thinks, unfortunately, of all the failed relationships that have brought him here. He's here because of his cousin - Peter - and needing to guide the teenager to a new place to live. The two are traveling together in the wake of the accident that killed Peter's parents...and Will's wife. Molly Graham had been drifting from him even before the sudden death, but the loss is a raw ache still; a loneliness Will had been lying to himself existed even before he had to pick out a coffin.
Getting away from the little aches and pains of the rest of people here is a small luxury, and one he needs after almost a solid week on board.]
The pressure from above-the culmination of confusing emotions intermingling and the sheer amount of people forced together in this small space is what urged her to. There's no alley to hide in or cats to huddle up near. It would be pointless to speak into the Fluid, when the few friends she has remember nothing and-
It was easier to move. To follow an unmarked path further and further and she almost gave up when it got worse-when the cramped quarters and passages somehow got tighter, when contact with others became compulsory because it was impossible to navigate without bumping into shoulders.
The reward though-
Is this.
Is this room, still somehow packed to the brim, but with items and trinkets and large pieces of furniture and machinery instead of people. She can still feel the hum of emotions above her-she didn't go that far down. She can get back up later. She's not trapped and-
This is what she needed. A second, a minute, where she can hide. Where she can just shove herself into a quiet corner and listen to hearts with her body instead of her ears and even now she can feel the swirling-
Sadness?
Loneliness?
It permeates the air and she twists her head to either side to find the source. It's not her. Not this time. It's close though. Strange. Familiar and safe and-
She spots him. The situation almost comically similar to how they first met-two lonely people trying to get away from everything and somehow finding each other despite it all.]
[ Will's sense of other people, while disruptive to the point of causing self-isolation as his preferred coping mechanism, isn't actually supernatural. Even his paranoia isn't enough to have him notice that someone's sneaking up near him. Not until that someone speaks.
Will makes an undignified noise of surprise, somewhere between a gasp and a grunt, not even an attempt at a word. He also jolts harshly enough that he nearly stumbles right off the trunk he's been sulking on. His fear only goes so far - he turns and sees her, thin and shorter than him and closer to a child than an adult, and she looks real unlike the strange grass-teenager he'd met the other day - but he's not sure what to replace it with. ]
...Yeah. [ Not a ground-breaking response. He swallows, brows drawing together in confusion. ] Are you-- alone? [ Because children shouldn't be alone. Not even ones that give Will a sense of...
It's not deja vu. He's not yet really plagued by the sense that this place is wrong. But there's something here that he can't place - Will wonders if it's just paranoia about wherever her parents must be, and having to interact with them when they arrive. ]
[It's easy to read the mood surrounding them-she surprised him, despite his relative ease picking her out of an empty alleyway last time. There's something different and while she can't sleuth it out with so few words between them, she's met so many people who have lost their true memories by now that-
While she can't be sure, not until he says it, she has a sneaking suspicion some variation of that is happening here.]
I'm alone. No one came with me. I just-
[She plops down beside a large, fabric covered box and covers half her body with those dirty sheets. That's better.]
Wanted to hide again and it's quiet, so I came here.
[ Will watches her with a rapt attention he can't quite place. He knows he's always wanted children of his own, with the sort of deep ache that feels like a bone that never healed properly, but he's also used to that sensation by now. It plagues every family gathering he goes to with young relatives, whenever he sees the other branches of his family tree being a bit more successful at having their own kids. This is...different, though. And he can't quite place why...
She drags sheets over herself with a clear lack of worry for who they might belong to, and Will has a feeling this child is absolutely not in first class alongside himself. Will would never have acted that way in front of an adult at her age - what is her age, anyway? she seems small for it, whatever it is - so that must mean...
'Wanted to hide'. The thought is at once sad and relatable. Will laughs shortly, although his expression's unsure if it can relax into a smile yet. ] Well, it's a good place to hide. The kind of people who can afford to use this room are happy to leave it alone until we hit land again.
[ Will hesitates for only a moment before he sits back down again, on the trunk he was using before. There's some foreign sense that mirroring is actually good, will work, and it comes from beyond Will's usual instinct to do that...
No, it must just be usual impulse. Nothing more.
What follows is perhaps standard procedure for when an adult comes across a child who's alone, but Will asks it with a captivated sincerity: ] What's your name? Mine's Will.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
titanic stuff!! cw for referenced death of several family members
For starters, all the entrances to it are in steerage, in the third class hallways. To even walk through them is to gain some measure of attention because even dressed down, it's clear that Will Graham, heir to the late John Graham's railway company out in the less-tamed but still wealthy parts of the western US, doesn't belong in third class. From the simple fact that he can afford hair products to the more glaring issue of eyeglasses and the make of his shoes, Will sticks out when among the small throng of people seemingly always in the hallways down in third class.
But the benefit of his station in life is simple and one he takes full advantage of: that he doesn't have to answer to any of them. Will brushes past everyone, as he always does. Chin up but no eye contact, shoulders back but a fine tremor to them until he finally passes through the door into the storage area of the ship.
In here, it's just the myriad of things that the rich aboard the ship decided to take with them back to America. Will shuts the door behind himself and keeps walking, doesn't even start to slow down until he's trailed between the piled-high boxes and cars and wire cages long enough that he can almost forget where he is. Until it's almost possible to let go of the fact that he's trapped in a small space with hundreds - thousands - of other people.
Will sighs deeply and sinks down onto a shipment trunk, far enough in that he's collected a thin layer of dust on his shoes just from walking among everything. And here, finally isolated in a way he couldn't achieve in the spacious but very purposeful and flashy quarters he has here on the ship, Will puts his head in his hands and just breathes.
And thinks, unfortunately, of all the failed relationships that have brought him here. He's here because of his cousin - Peter - and needing to guide the teenager to a new place to live. The two are traveling together in the wake of the accident that killed Peter's parents...and Will's wife. Molly Graham had been drifting from him even before the sudden death, but the loss is a raw ache still; a loneliness Will had been lying to himself existed even before he had to pick out a coffin.
Getting away from the little aches and pains of the rest of people here is a small luxury, and one he needs after almost a solid week on board.]
no subject
The pressure from above-the culmination of confusing emotions intermingling and the sheer amount of people forced together in this small space is what urged her to. There's no alley to hide in or cats to huddle up near. It would be pointless to speak into the Fluid, when the few friends she has remember nothing and-
It was easier to move. To follow an unmarked path further and further and she almost gave up when it got worse-when the cramped quarters and passages somehow got tighter, when contact with others became compulsory because it was impossible to navigate without bumping into shoulders.
The reward though-
Is this.
Is this room, still somehow packed to the brim, but with items and trinkets and large pieces of furniture and machinery instead of people. She can still feel the hum of emotions above her-she didn't go that far down. She can get back up later. She's not trapped and-
This is what she needed. A second, a minute, where she can hide. Where she can just shove herself into a quiet corner and listen to hearts with her body instead of her ears and even now she can feel the swirling-
Sadness?
Loneliness?
It permeates the air and she twists her head to either side to find the source. It's not her. Not this time. It's close though. Strange. Familiar and safe and-
She spots him. The situation almost comically similar to how they first met-two lonely people trying to get away from everything and somehow finding each other despite it all.]
You're here too?
no subject
Will makes an undignified noise of surprise, somewhere between a gasp and a grunt, not even an attempt at a word. He also jolts harshly enough that he nearly stumbles right off the trunk he's been sulking on. His fear only goes so far - he turns and sees her, thin and shorter than him and closer to a child than an adult, and she looks real unlike the strange grass-teenager he'd met the other day - but he's not sure what to replace it with. ]
...Yeah. [ Not a ground-breaking response. He swallows, brows drawing together in confusion. ] Are you-- alone? [ Because children shouldn't be alone. Not even ones that give Will a sense of...
It's not deja vu. He's not yet really plagued by the sense that this place is wrong. But there's something here that he can't place - Will wonders if it's just paranoia about wherever her parents must be, and having to interact with them when they arrive. ]
no subject
While she can't be sure, not until he says it, she has a sneaking suspicion some variation of that is happening here.]
I'm alone. No one came with me. I just-
[She plops down beside a large, fabric covered box and covers half her body with those dirty sheets. That's better.]
Wanted to hide again and it's quiet, so I came here.
no subject
She drags sheets over herself with a clear lack of worry for who they might belong to, and Will has a feeling this child is absolutely not in first class alongside himself. Will would never have acted that way in front of an adult at her age - what is her age, anyway? she seems small for it, whatever it is - so that must mean...
'Wanted to hide'. The thought is at once sad and relatable. Will laughs shortly, although his expression's unsure if it can relax into a smile yet. ] Well, it's a good place to hide. The kind of people who can afford to use this room are happy to leave it alone until we hit land again.
[ Will hesitates for only a moment before he sits back down again, on the trunk he was using before. There's some foreign sense that mirroring is actually good, will work, and it comes from beyond Will's usual instinct to do that...
No, it must just be usual impulse. Nothing more.
What follows is perhaps standard procedure for when an adult comes across a child who's alone, but Will asks it with a captivated sincerity: ] What's your name? Mine's Will.